Chapter 271: The Fire Qilin

The voice was dull, like muffled thunder; Li Guanyi froze, slightly surprised, as the warm-smiling senior brother Fang Ziqiao said, "Actually, I haven't told you yet."

"We heard you came to the Academy and went looking for Master Wen He, worried you'd be at a disadvantage…"

Fang Ziqiao, Du Ke, Wei Xuancheng, and the disciples under Wang Tong stared at the boy seated there and the fallen Academy prodigy Master Wen He, falling silent, their thoughts momentarily frozen.

Who was the one at a disadvantage?!

After a long while, these Confucian disciples, nominally of the same sect as Li Guanyi, thought: No, not surprising at all—Fire Qilin!

Yes, not surprising at all—the Fire Qilin of this chaotic age—even Master Wen He was brought down!

This makes perfect sense!

The disciples barely rationalized the behavior of this "Fourth Senior Brother"; Fang Ziqiao's smile remained unchanged as he gently said, "On the road, we met His Excellency Gongyang Su Wang; His Excellency's Lin Wang heard you had come and visited the Fire Qilin."

As he spoke, a Qilin walked in slowly, its scales now pale like those of an ancient crimson dragon, one of its horns broken, the fracture clean as if sliced by a sword—yet despite its divine nature, it could not regrow.

Its eyes were golden, not the aggressive, fiery gold of a Fire Qilin in rage, but a mellow, tempered gold worn smooth by time.

Like an ancient crimson dragon, though lesser, it radiated a vast, overwhelming aura.

Just as an ancient crimson dragon would, it spoke in human speech.

"You are Li Guanyi."

Li Guanyi rose and bowed, saying, "Disciple of the Daoist Patriarch Wen Yuan, disciple of Master Wang Tong of the Confucian school, Academy student Li Guanyi, pays his respects to the elder."

The old Qilin's expression softened considerably: "A well-mannered child… come…" He opened his mouth slightly, and a stream of light emerged—a bamboo scroll, brimming with the grand, righteous qi of Confucianism, landing before Li Guanyi.

It was a scroll recording the cultivation method of 【Shi】.

A secret art unique to the Confucian school.

The old Qilin said, "A ruler must be a ruler, a minister a minister, a father a father, a son a son."

"A junior must behave as a junior; an elder must embody the manner of an elder."

"This is what accords with the Dao, what accords with propriety."

"You show me proper respect; I must respond in kind, good child."

As the old Qilin spoke, his voice was broad and gentle, never letting his battle with Elder Murong, nor the severing of his horn, nor the fact that even then a mere Grand Master, Murong Longtu's piercing sword intent had permanently crippled his horn, affect Li Guanyi in the slightest.

He had followed generations of Gongyang Su Wang and met the very first Master who founded the Confucian school.

His inner state surpassed that of the vast majority of Confucian disciples.

On Li Guanyi's shoulder, the Fire Qilin poked its head out, watching as Li Guanyi received the gift.

Fire Qilin, very happy!

What an excellent elder!

The Fire Qilin's front paws rested on Li Guanyi's shoulder, gazing up at the towering Qilin before him—the grandeur, solemnity, and the vastness of millennia of time coalesced into an aura of profound reliability among divine beasts.

"You… are the Fire Qilin."

The aged Qilin regarded the Fire Qilin.

He showed no instant anger or emotion, merely protecting the Fire Qilin's dignity before outsiders, refraining from chastising or humiliating him with the weight of seniority.

The most basic requirement of Confucian disciples in dealing with others—

Love knowing its flaws; hate knowing its virtues.

The old Qilin cherished and cared for this junior Fire Qilin, yet knew his shortcomings.

But in this chaotic age, how many Confucian disciples could still uphold this most fundamental chapter of the Book of Rites? Could such noble conduct still be passed on to future generations?

The old Qilin nodded, then turned to Li Guanyi and said:

"How long have you been here, Guanyi?"

Li Guanyi replied, "This disciple has lingered in Zhongzhou for about two months; after the autumn hunt, I'll stay a while longer, then depart."

Two months. Sixty days.

The old Qilin's voice was gentle: "Good. I am the oldest Qilin in this world. That there is another Qilin here is well. I wish to speak at length with this Fire Qilin."

"I seek your and his consent."

The Fire Qilin immediately sent a mental message to Li Guanyi: "I agree!"

The old Qilin gazed at the little one.

His front paws nearly crushed the ground, hardened by the Academy's literary qi.

Ohhh.

Having lived nearly five hundred years among humans, he still hasn't learned to speak?

The old Qilin's demeanor grew even gentler, yet in Li Guanyi's eyes, something terrible seemed to twist behind the old Qilin's back.

The scales on the old Qilin's body, bleached by time, began to redden.

The young Qilin happily extended his paw.

Li Guanyi smiled and said, "Since He agrees as well, then I entrust Him to you." He picked up the Fire Qilin; the old Qilin lowered his head, and Li Guanyi placed the little one upon him.

The old Qilin thanked him and walked away slowly with the young one.

The young Qilin was ecstatic, even wagging his tail voluntarily.

The old Qilin froze.

As if struck by a tremendous shock.

His paws sank into the Academy's hardened, literary qi-infused ground.

The aged Qilin's expression grew even gentler, his scales—long bleached by time—now blazing red, as if about to burst: "Good. Very good. Extremely good."

Fang Ziqiao watched the old Qilin depart and said, "It's so much like him."

"Like whom?"

"Nothing." Fang Ziqiao smiled. "Since you've come to the Academy, you must pay your respects to the Master. That's why I came here today."

Master Wang Tong had greatly aided Li Guanyi in Yicheng and Jiangzhou, teaching him the Way of Ten Thousand People; Li Guanyi said, "That's only proper—but Senior Brother, please wait a moment; I still have something to attend to."

A natural "senior brother" made Fang Ziqiao's smile soften slightly.

"Good."

Li Guanyi looked at Wen He, who had collapsed from the Qián Rì Zuì, and had Ling Pingyang summon a carriage; when it arrived, Li Guanyi reached out and pushed Wen He gently—though this Confucian disciple's internal qi and physique were not weak.

But Qián Rì Zuì was the number-one strongest liquor in the world, capable of intoxicating even legendary martial artists; this fellow seemed thoroughly drunk. Ling Pingyang prepared to lift Wen He onto his shoulder and said: "My Lord, since we came here to pay respects to the Master, let me take care of Master Wen He."

"I will bring him back and see to him properly."

The young top cavalry commander of the Fifth Heaven's peak, whose White Dragon Manifestation was renowned, laughed cheerfully in promise.

Li Guanyi looked at the sleeping Confucian scholar and said: "No need—I'll carry the Master to the carriage." The young Daoist picked up the sleeping Wen He and stepped out; the carriage waited outside, and many Confucian disciples had noticed the commotion and gathered to investigate.

After all, the old Qilin was too conspicuous—they saw the carriage outside, surrounded by disciples of Master Wang Tong, and as they peered curiously, they saw the plain-robed youth carrying a man out.

Li Guanyi stepped onto the carriage and carefully laid the sleeping, drunken Wen He inside.

"With the Master's aid, I gain the strength of a thousand armies."

Wen He was utterly drunk.

Inside the carriage's dark, lightless cabin, the young Daoist said:

"Master, you need not pretend to be drunk anymore. If you were merely drugged and forcibly taken, should Jiangnan fall into crisis later, others will believe you were abducted against your will—not that you volunteered your strategy."

"For a talent like you, clearly not yet loyal, my enemies will surely seek to win you over rather than kill you, won't they?"

Outside, the Confucian Academy, wind brushing over the Great Roads of the Hundred Schools, carrying eight hundred years of literary qi, rustled the tree branches; the young strategist, just now drunk, opened his eyes.

Outside, people came and went, voices noisy.

Inside the carriage, the young Daoist and the young strategist locked gazes.

On Wen He's plain, unremarkable face, those cold, tranquil eyes lent him an air of amusement—thus, Qilin and venomous serpent regarded each other.

Li Guanyi raised his hand; the token fell into Wen He's lap: "This is the token of the Qilin Army's iron cavalry from the Imperial City. If you wish to leave, they will not stop you."

"Thank you for your advice."

"I hope to see you again when I return."

"But if Master leaves, Li Guanyi will not hinder you."

The young Daoist bowed respectfully and said:

"Master, truly, you are a genius."

Wen He fell silent; the boy turned and leapt from the carriage, instructing Ling Pingyang: "Pingyang, after you bring the Master back, leave him be. Then come here and wait for me—I'm going elsewhere."

Ling Pingyang bowed and replied: "Yes."

Ling Pingyang drove the carriage himself—smooth and swift. Wen He pressed a finger to his stomach; internal qi churned, and he vomited out the Qián Rì Zuì. By his nature, he would not be easily drugged; earlier, he had merely feigned intoxication to make Li Guanyi lower his guard.

So he could leave.

Holding the Qilin Army's waist token, Wen He fell silent for a long while, then sighed: "Very well. To have matched wits with me this far—even if merely minor tricks—is rare, and oddly entertaining."

He lay there lazily: "Perhaps it was the wine."

"Master I have finally felt that touch of intoxication."

"My mind won't turn, and I don't much want it to."

He twirled the tassel hanging from the token and said: "I'll go see. After I help you resolve this matter, I'll leave—yes, it's also a path to keep for the future."

Wen He fell quiet for a moment, staring at his palm:

"Truly… what a good chain."

………………

Li Guanyi had delivered Wen He.

He had not truly uncovered this strategist, the foremost in scheming for himself.

But Zhang Ziyong's self-created body cultivation, surpassing even the Indestructible Long Yuan, had given immediate feedback: Wen He's breath, heartbeat, and blood flow were all in the state between full wakefulness and feigned sleep.

In other words, Wen He had been awake then.

That was why he had spoken those words just now.

Li Guanyi and Fang Ziqiao and others went to pay respects to Gongyang Su Wang, then proceeded to the villa where Master Wang Tong resided; this thirty-something Confucian master, already renowned among the younger generation, smiled as he awaited his fourth true disciple's arrival.

He poured tea himself, asked Li Guanyi about his deeds in Jiangnan, and finally sighed: "Well done."

Li Guanyi replied: "All due to the Master's and Ancestor's teachings."

Master Wang Tong smiled: "Don't flatter me. What have I truly taught you? You've reached this point not because of those things alone, but because of your own efforts and those of your comrades—hold your head high with pride."

"What are your thoughts in coming to the Academy?"

Li Guanyi repeated what he had told Wen He.

Though Wen He had proposed a brilliant strategy to divide, suppress, and absorb the noble clans, they still lacked men and money. Master Wang Tong, coughing softly while covering his lips, said:

"Lack of men? Sending Academy disciples to Jiangnan is no simple matter."

Master Wang Tong whispered:

"When they come here, their minds hold many thoughts."

"If you think a single ideal can sway them, it's difficult—because whether in Chen or Ying, there are few young scholars who are learned, yet lack noble lineage."

"In this chaotic age, all states vie for talent."

"Both Ying and Chen have great Confucian Masters; many students willingly go there. Though Gongyang Su Wang praises you, the Academy is not like the secular world—rigidly hierarchical, forcing obedience."

"Su Wang's prestige can guide some, but cannot compel others to go to Jiangnan. You must persuade them…" The thirty-something master lit pine incense; its faint fragrance curled through the quiet chamber.

"Before the Son of Heaven's autumn hunt, the Academy will hold a Dao debate. Only those who can persuade them will win their following."

Li Guanyi said: "My current reputation…"

Master Wang Tong looked at his young disciple: "Less than one percent."

The Qilin's momentum is grand, but it has only existed for a year, while the other states have three-century dynasties—that's one reason; the territorial gap is immense—a thousand li versus tens of thousands of li is no small difference; the military disparity is even greater.

The difference between fifty thousand armored soldiers and five hundred thousand—or even a million—is enormous.

More than Li Guanyi expected.

Li Guanyi smiled: "There are people after all!"

"But what I want to win over are students from humble families—those who can read and understand literature."

Master Wang Tong said gently: "These students rise from humble origins and common folk, coming to the Academy to study hard and cultivate relationships with their teachers—what do you think they seek?"

Li Guanyi fell silent for a moment, then answered: "To rise above others."

The master smiled and replied: "There are several reasons, but broadly speaking, some harbor the desire—stripped of all flowery rhetoric—to be above others, while others still hold pure ideals."

"In truth, more often than not, the same person harbors both the Confucian disciple's ambition and ideal, and the wish to escape their impoverished past, join a noble house, marry a collateral branch daughter, and elevate their own status."

"All for the sake of 【Not Letting the Family Name Fall】."

"Guanyi, have you heard of the theory of inherent human evil?"

Li Guanyi answered: "I've heard a little."

Master Wang Tong said: "Human nature is inherently evil; goodness is artificial. Some speak of the wickedness of the human heart, but that's not it—human nature is inherently evil, and only through learning and guidance can goodness emerge."

"Innate nature is wild and unruly, like jade—it cannot become an instrument without carving."

"Human nature is evil, goodness is artificial—that's the boastful saying Confucians love to repeat."

"They don't know the sages also said: When heaven and earth unite, all things are born; when yin and yang meet, transformation begins; when nature and nurture combine, the world is governed."

"When innate nature and learned cultivation unite, the world achieves great order."

"Warm, blazing ideals and dark, despondent thoughts converge to make a person—like the turning of yin and yang. I hope you do not 'abandon' these Confucian students—they will fear, they will weaken, they will crave wealth…"

"But they are also brave, blazing, and pure."

Sunlight poured through the window; Master Wang Tong's expression was gentle:

"They are all very, very good children."

"Cough… cough… cough… cough…"

Li Guanyi, watching the master who had always been unwell, rose to support him: "Teacher…" As he touched him, Li Guanyi's body tensed slightly—he felt the master's frailty. The latter waved his hand:

"I'm like this—old ailment, cough… cough… cough."

"You saw it that day."

Li Guanyi said: "Please take better care of your health, Teacher."

Wang Tong smiled: "I know."

The teacher and student finished their tea. Li Guanyi took his leave; Wang Tong saw him off and warned: "Remember to prepare. To win the hearts of students under the vast nations of Chen and Ying, you cannot rely only on your dreams."

"You understand, don't you? You must keep growing."

Li Guanyi answered: "Yes, Teacher."

Wang Tong chuckled: "Don't be so tense."

"On that day, I will help you."

Li Guanyi took his leave, thinking of what needed doing—he hoped Wen He would stay, but even if the financial problem were solved, the talent shortage remained severe; Chen and Ying, as great nations, held greater appeal for talent.

Talent—in times of chaos, the Hundred Schools emerge. Without sufficient talent, Jiangnan will fall behind again. Li Guanyi especially knew how vital talent was under this situation.

Master Wang Tong watched the boy walk far away; the latter's steps were firm.

He closed the door, coughed a few times, his expression calm. He knew Li Guanyi's path ahead would be hard—every step, a new hardship. Fang Ziqiao supported him and said: "Teacher…"

Master Wang Tong said: "After this, go with him."

Fang Ziqiao lowered his eyes and whispered: "Yes…"

He had cared so deeply for this junior brother—helping persuade Yuan Zhi to be the first to reach Jiangnan, swaying Wen Lingjun and Feng Xiao, devising strategies for Li Guanyi, often visiting Wen He—

All because of this teacher, Master Wang Tong. Otherwise, with his own nature—gentle yet distant—he would never have taken such serious interest in a junior brother he'd known so briefly.

Fang Ziqiao whispered: "At the upcoming Academy Debate, Chen and Ying will send great Confucians."

"The Gongyang Su Wang has inquired about your junior brother."

Master Wang Tong said gently: "I will go."

Fang Ziqiao's face showed reluctance; he whispered: "Teacher, let me go; Chen and Ying have Logicians, Mohists, Diplomatists, Syncretists—and many other Confucian schools. The Hundred Schools are not mere pretense."

"Yet only Original Mohism and Gongyang Confucianism support your junior brother—just a handful of schools."

"Though the Six Palace Masters favor Guanyi, they will not force their disciples to join any one school—if they did, the Academy would have perished long ago. This is a contest for the fate of the world."

"It will be harsher than any Academy Debate in the past eight hundred years."

"Back then, there might have been a hundred renowned Confucians and masters—your health…"

Master Wang Tong laughed carefree: "I am but a common man—why should I fear them?"

Inside his courtyard, at the very back hung a white paper, inscribed with ink characters in neat, free-flowing strokes, yet carrying solemn weight.

Master Wang Tong released Fang Ziqiao's hand.

He looked at the lines of poetry and whispered:

"To establish the heart of heaven and earth."

"To secure the destiny of the people."

"To carry forward the lost learning of the sages."

These words are merely empty talk if nothing is done, but since he is walking this very path, each step he takes adds weight to the verses he recited in his youth.

"If nothing is done, these are empty words—but he walks this path. With every step, the words he once recited as a youth gain more weight."

"A skilled singer makes others follow his voice; a skilled teacher makes others follow his will."

"I very much hope he walks farther."

"Confucian disciples need not rely on Daoist numerology—Confucian disciples have their own protectors."

"But they are merely the Hundred Schools."

Master Wang Tong smiled faintly: "Let us meet the Hundred Schools of the Academy."

"The Imperial Academy has existed for eight hundred years, accumulating much filth; Su Wang and the others have struggled to keep its direction intact, yet they cannot cleanse these poisons. If Li Guanyi takes over, it will form a scholarly aristocracy akin to noble clans."

"At that time, there will be vermin in the imperial examinations."

"I will cleanse these things."

"This place, the Imperial Academy, ought to... cough cough cough..."

"It ought to be utterly clean."

………………

Li Guanyi walked quietly along the Academy's main path; it was his first time arriving here, and he truly found the scenery pleasing. The Academy disciples seemed to be in class, so the path was nearly empty. Thinking Generals Ling Pingyang would not return for some time, he felt a momentary boredom.

Li Guanyi's gaze swept across, and he paused slightly.

There, a man in his thirties, bearded and unkempt, stood out sharply.

Dressed in a long robe yet wearing a sword, he sat beside a lotus pond on one side of the Academy. Even seated on stone, his back remained straight, exuding propriety and discipline, sipping wine alone, his eyes vacant, lost in thought.

Li Guanyi, curious, walked over and said, "Brother?"

Ji Zichang slowly lifted his head, seeing a youth before him.

Ji Zichang instantly snapped awake.

Li Guanyi?!

………………

Meanwhile, Zhao Laoqi watched the Fire Qilin; the Fire Qilin stared back at the solemn Zhao Laoqi, sensing that Zhao Laoqi was about to say something—was it, was it that?!

Zhao Laoqi was considering whether to respect the child's dignity.

He wanted to teach with dignity—kind yet gentle.

Not too harshly.

The training he had previously envisioned might have been too cruel; he should not have been so...

The Master once said: Yincaishi Sect—tolerate and be patient with juniors.

Then he saw the Fire Qilin leap down, its tail flicking swiftly; after a moment's thought, it flopped onto its back, exposing its belly, adopting a cute, pleading expression.

So good, I'm such a good one.

The aged Qilin, who had once walked the world with the First Master:

"…………"

Its scaled armor flushed red with fury.

All prior gentleness, all hesitation, shattered bit by bit.

The Fire Qilin wore the expression of a dutiful junior:

"Elder, where are my good fruits?!!!"

Paused, then added:

"Meow meow meow?"

Sssshhh—CRACK!

That was the sound of Zhao Laoqi's last thread of reason snapping.

His claw shot out, seizing the young Qilin's neck, lifting it up.

The Qilin's body dangled, swaying there.

Swinging. Swinging.

Zhao Laoqi took a deep breath, then smiled—a wild, youthful grin: "Good. Excellent."

"I'll give you good fruits now!"

"How many do you want?"

The Ancient Confucians grant a second chance.

He still hoped the Fire Qilin would stop while ahead.

The Fire Qilin pondered, then waved a claw, declaring grandly:

"The more, the better!"

Zhao Laoqi: "…………"

Even the Confucian heart could no longer hold.

On Zhao Laoqi's face appeared a smile known as a snarl.

"Good."

"You are 【worthy】 of instruction!"

"Excellent. I will make sure you eat your fill."

…………

At the other end of the Academy.

Li Guanyi stepped forward, gazing at the thirty-something, bearded youth.

"Brother, hello."

Ji Zichang stared blankly at him.

The wind blew between the two.

All the feudal lords of the realm had gathered here; the King of Chen and the Emperor of Ying faced each other. Tomorrow, the banquet of the contemporary Red Emperor and Qin Wu Hou would decide the realm's future—and the two imperial edicts, still resting with the Chi Xiao Sword, slept undisturbed in the study.

Yet now, here in the Academy,

The Emperor of Zhongzhou and the young lord met for the first time.

Shifting the daily schedule back by half an hour, struggling to survive.

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