Chapter 280: The Imperial Academy Debates Dao, Yet It

The climate of Zhongzhou was drier than Jiangzhou; Zhao Da Bing felt his throat slightly parched, and the salt-roasted peanuts no longer tasted as good as before—they stuck in his throat.

He swallowed a sip of overnight strong tea to rinse his mouth, then lazily drove forward; the Xue family's carriage was less a carriage and more a caravan, here in Zhongzhou to do business, with the eldest daughter leading the group, Chen Qingyan accompanying them.

"We've reached Zhongzhou; the imperial capital isn't far now. Zhongzhou isn't as large as our Chen state—just a thousand li across. Even if we delay a bit on the road, it won't take much more time."

After traveling a while longer, though the sun wasn't scorching, walking under its full glare still wasn't pleasant; the Xue family's caravan halted at the roadside, forming a defensive circle, just as a traveling merchant was selling goods.

Someone inside the carriage spoke a few words, then Zhao Da Bing went over and stopped the traveling merchant's group, saying: "Brother, what are you selling?!"

The man was a simple fellow who replied: "I sell big dates and my own brewed liquor—cheap, rich in flavor. Old brother, want some?"

Zhao Da Bing laughed heartily: "Come on! My shopkeeper says you look tired, the sun's harsh—why not rest here? We're thirsty too from the journey. Since you've got liquor and dates, let's have a little to quench our thirst."

"What's your name, brother?"

The man said: "I'm Shi Wu. This is my son."

"His name is Shi Yisong."

He pointed to a half-grown boy over there; the child's skin had darkened slightly from Zhongzhou's sun, dressed in plain cloth, a wooden sword hanging from his belt, standing tall and proud—utterly carefree.

Zhao Da Bing laughed and invited them inside, bought the dates, and shared the liquor with everyone; the dates were crisp, quenching thirst, the liquor low in alcohol—everyone had Wu Gong, so this little drink was like water.

After a while, the merchant group came to thank the shopkeeper, but to their surprise, the shopkeeper who stepped down from the carriage was a girl of seventeen or eighteen, tall in stature, wearing a green-cloud-patterned cross-collar jacket, dozens of pleats at the waist, a horse-face skirt rippling like water, her hair tied with a hairpin—bright and charming.

Shi Wu bowed deeply with his son to thank her.

This shopkeeper, however, seemed extremely relaxed and casual—she told them to sit comfortably, had someone pay them the exact price without a single coin short, and even allowed them to share their food with Shi family's father and son, directing a caravan of two or three hundred people with perfect order.

She was a shopkeeper of great bearing and ability.

The Xue family's merchant guild had shops in Shi Wu's hometown, but such a large caravan—wasn't that only possible in a county seat? No, a prefectural capital?

Shi Wu thought to himself, while his son Shi Yisong, holding the wooden sword given by the young Daoist priest, went to find the caravan's guards, eager to see their swordplay; the guards slashed a few times, and indeed, their blades gleamed with chilling sharpness.

The guards found this stubborn, determined boy quite endearing, and said:

"How about a trade?"

"What do you think of this sword?"

He pulled out a sword—a steel blade with a sharkskin scabbard, smooth to the touch; when drawn, it gleamed coldly, clearly a fine weapon. The Xue family's caravan guards earned well, and he placed the sword down; Shi Yisong's eyes grew hungry for it.

Then he imitated the martial heroes: "Fine sword!"

The guards burst into laughter.

The guard who drew the sword said:

"How about I trade this sword for your wooden one?"

Shi Yisong hesitated, then shook his head, gripping his wooden sword and pushing the forged steel blade back, replying: "No."

The guard was curious and hadn't spoken yet when he suddenly noticed someone approaching; his face instantly turned solemn and respectful, bowing: "Shopkeeper." Shi Yisong turned instinctively and saw the woman standing there.

Shi Yisong was startled and instinctively swung his wooden sword out.

She caught it between just two fingers.

Then the woman seemed to pause slightly, her gaze falling, and she smiled faintly.

"Young brother, where did you get this sword?"

Shi Yisong answered: "A Daoist brother made it for me—we traveled together for a month. He carved it with a small knife!"

The girl smiled and said: "May I see it?"

She clearly could have used Wu Gong to snatch it away—but she asked Shi Yisong first. He thought for a moment and said: "Alright."

He let go.

The girl shopkeeper took the sword in hand, her fingers lightly brushing over the weapon, her eyes lowering, long lashes casting shadows as her gentle gaze rested on the wooden blade—near the hilt, a bold, freehand character was carved: 【Li】.

Shi Yisong mumbled: "I originally wanted a top-tier swordmaster to write this character for me, but the Daoist Li just carved it for me—what could I do? So I'll just work hard and become a mighty swordmaster myself!"

"Then this sword will become famous too!"

He said it with pride.

And childishness.

Little Stone watched the dazed girl, and for once, his stone-like head grew clever—he whispered: "Shopkeeper, do you know the Daoist Li?"

The girl shopkeeper smiled: "Yes, I know him."

She sat on a nearby stone, one hand holding the hilt, the other gently tracing the carved grooves on the wooden blade. Little Stone murmured curiously: "Daoist Li's luck is great—he has a friend like you."

"Did you grow up together?"

The girl smiled and replied: "No."

"We just played together when we were very young."

The girl added: "Why did you say that just now?"

Little Stone spoke bluntly: "Because Daoist Li is poor!" He recalled, then added solemnly: "He's really, really poor!"

The girl couldn't help but laugh softly, but Shi Yisong thought deeply, recalling for a long while, then said: "Yet even though he's this poor, eating flatbread every day, he still eats our scallions—eats the white part himself, gives me the green ends. Wears a faded blue Daoist robe, yet still carries a jade pendant."

"Yeah, he treasures that jade pendant dearly."

"At his age, that's the only valuable thing he owns."

"Yet he'd rather eat flatbread and scallions every day just to protect it."

"I wonder who gave it to him?"

This ten-year-old boy spoke these reflections with blunt honesty, but when he looked up, he saw the composed, formidable girl shopkeeper holding the wooden sword—her face bore an expression a child could not yet understand.

Shi Yisong realized.

"Oh! That jade pendant—you gave it to him?"

The Xue family's girl shopkeeper smiled: "Yes."

"I gave him this jade only so he could pawn it if he ever needed money—there's no need to keep it forever. It's not anything special."

"What are you talking about?!"

The child rebutted, pointing at the wooden sword, shouting:

"I really want that good sword just now—I know what that sword is, and I know I can never get it. Even if I spent years traveling with Father, gathering firewood for others and saving every coin, I'd use it to support the household."

"I won't buy such a fine sword."

"But I won't trade this wooden sword for it either!"

"Because this wooden sword was given to me by that Daoist Priest—it matters more to me than any sword I could ever afford in my life!"

"To Master Li, that sword must be, must be incredibly, incredibly important—not because it's valuable, but just like this wooden sword matters to me because Master Li carved it for me, stroke by stroke, that sword matters to him too."

"Because you gave it to me!"

The girl froze.

Shi Yisong froze.

Then, after thinking, he clenched his right fist and slammed it hard into his palm.

"Oh oh, I get it!"

The child pointed at the girl Shopkeeper before him and said loudly and directly:

"You like him!"

Perhaps because of the temple fair, or perhaps because of the opera he'd watched there, Little Stone spoke these words—and Shi Wu's scalp went numb. First he'd begged the young Daoist Priest to teach him swordplay, and now he'd said this to the Shopkeeper of the Xue family's merchant guild.

Even a man who'd spent his whole life doing good deeds wondered if he was cursed.

His own child spoke without restraint—Shi Yisong pulled his father aside to apologize, but the boy didn't hear the kind female Shopkeeper speak. Curious, Little Stone looked up and stole a glance.

Then he saw the beautiful girl Shopkeeper holding the wooden sword, not rebutting—her face flushed with the color of the most beautiful evening sky, even her ears turned crimson.

Shi Yisong thought.

How beautiful!

The girl returned the wooden sword to Little Stone, then answered:

"Mm."

"Yes."

She said so.

Then Little Stone felt the beautiful female Shopkeeper truly had the boldness of a martial hero—when he parted from the Xue family merchant guild, the girl Shopkeeper personally handed him a sword.

Thus the little wanderer now wore two swords at his waist.

One was the sword given by the girl Shopkeeper.

One was the sword given by the young Daoist Priest.

One blade bore the character 【Xue】, the other 【Li】—Shi Yisong laughed joyfully, his face alight, grinning widely as he crossed the two swords together, speaking with great martial spirit: "If Master Li ever bullies you—"

"I'll go find him!"

Then the girl Shopkeeper replied with a smile:

"He won't."

…………………………

The tales of the martial world surged like wind and clouds, yet intertwined quietly like two fallen leaves caught in a gust—Li Guanyi changed out of the crimson Fire Qilin-patterned battle robe and gold-threaded hairpin he'd worn upon first entering Zhongzhou; he'd originally carried the ancestral elder's ancient Song-patterned sword.

After a moment's hesitation, he set the Song-patterned sword down again.

He picked up the Chi Xiao sword, strapped it to his waist, and headed for the Zhongzhou Academy—today marked the beginning of the Academy's Dao Debate—Gongyang Su Wang had previously proposed a decision, a terrifying proposal capable of stirring the entire realm's winds and clouds.

The disciples of the Hundred Schools would emerge.

The accumulated strength of eight hundred years was finally about to be revealed to the world—even five hundred years ago, in the era of Xue Shen and the Duke of Chen, even three hundred years ago, when the heroic spirit shattered the gloom of the entire realm, the Academy had never emerged.

The world was about to change drastically.

This feeling grew more concrete, more clear—but as Feng Xiao accompanied Li Guanyi there, he held no great hope for today's debate. He took a sip of wine and said: "Lord, what do you think today's contest is really about?"

"Is it the learning of the great Confucians? The doctrines of the Gejiage Sect?"

"Of course not!"

Feng Xiao's face bore a trace of worry: "What's truly being fought over is the great tide of the realm. This debate only appears to be a literary contest—but in truth, it's the various states and powers using their influence to harvest the Academy."

"That's why the Academy never entered the world before."

"But I don't understand why Gongyang Su Wang is willing to let the Academy enter the world now—does he truly not fear the Academy being devoured? Besides, with the Hundred Schools and the great clans present, the Academy's students entering Ying or Chen states might still be balanced."

"But if they enter Jiangnan, these great Confucians and scholars, relying on the realm's virtuous populace and their own disciples, will inevitably meddle in Jiangnan's direction, acting as arrogant elders."

"Yet we cannot speak out."

"One word and we're accused of violating hierarchy and respect."

"They have their own schools, their own students, their own disciples' disciples."

Feng Xiao scratched his naturally curly hair even more disheveled—he already understood why Gongyang Su Wang had kept the Academy out of the world: he didn't want it sliced up and swallowed, nor did he want the great schools to manipulate the young, inexperienced students.

He didn't want his own students used as blades—and then discarded.

The Academy had arrived—no longer solemn as in days past, but instead bustling with voices.

Feng Xiao drank half a flask of wine, his face flushed with drunkenness; he looked up and murmured: "Lord, Ji Daochun's death made you the enemy of the great clans—and today, they're competing to seize talent. Chen and Ying states are delighted by this."

"But the great tide that Wen He and Ling Jun have crafted for you cannot yet be revealed."

"Today's debate, you will be the target of those great Confucians—don't pretend ignorance; they're sharp. Their cleverness is matched by the weight of human relationships—Ji Daochun's stubborn resolve in old age wasn't built on scheming."

"In his youth, he had great ambition. The current Minister of Literature, then poor, received books directly from Ji Daochun; Master Jiang entered the Academy on a snowy night, his body frozen stiff from snow-blocked mountains—Ji Daochun carried him back himself."

"At the time, Ji Daochun was twenty-three, unrecognized within the imperial clan—he carried the then-obscure Master Jiang through the night, and when he returned, his legs were frozen stiff."

"There were many such deeds—only to say that the Ji Daochun before fifty and the Ji Daochun after were nearly two different men. Since ancient times, those who were brilliant in youth and stubborn in old age have never been few."

"In the long scroll of history, most of the foolish men recorded there died thirty years too early—they were heaven's chosen."

"After all, those who make it into the annals were never truly incompetent."

"Too bad they lived too long—and ruined their posthumous reputation."

"He's dead, but his connections and favors have become your enemies."

"So I'd rather die drunk in a thousand-day intoxification before I grow senile."

Li Guanyi chuckled and scolded: "Still greedy for drink."

Feng Xiao scratched his head and smiled, took a sip of wine, and gazed at the gate: "I can't accompany you inside, Master. I have other matters to attend to..."

He bowed with a smile and said: "May your grace succeed."

Li Guanyi asked: "You think, with the Academy gathering ten thousand students, how many can we take with us?"

Feng Xiao replied: "Before you came to Zhongzhou, about a hundred and some."

"After the Tiance Prefecture affair, the number should reach a thousand—already a tenfold increase. Your opponents are the Chen and Ying states, boasting three hundred years of imperial lineage and eight hundred years of accumulated Confucians, Logicians, and scholarly schools. Yet you have managed to attract over a thousand students by reputation alone."

"Your reputation is already worthy of pride."

Li Guanyi nodded with a smile, tied his mount to the side, and entered through the solemn gate of the Academy. The green stone bricks glowed faintly; as he walked slowly toward the venue of the Dao Debate, the place was already packed—students layered in concentric circles around the outer edges.

In truth, those present today to listen and observe were all outstanding disciples of major schools; most students could not approach, so they transmitted the debate's progress via flying eagles to distant places, and then the 【Novelists】 among the Nine Streams spread the news through storytellers.

Li Guanyi's eyesight was sharp—he had already spotted Chen Dingye, Jiang Wanxiang, and Ji Zichang up high. They were monarchs; though present today, they did not join the debate, only watching from above.

Jiang Wanxiang's Wu Gong was high—he noticed Li Guanyi and gave a slight nod.

Chen Dingye's gaze fell upon him—calm, cold, carrying a faint chill, yet also an air unlike his usual demeanor. He lifted the wine cup on the table and raised it slightly toward Li Guanyi.

Eyes cold.

He raised the cup in toast, then tilted his head and drank.

Li Guanyi walked slowly forward. Though the students here were numerous, upon spotting him, they all froze for a moment, then stepped back in layered rows—before Li Guanyi, a clear path opened as if waves had been cleaved apart.

Two great Confucians were debating the Dao.

Their words quoted the sages, cited widely, eloquent as lotus blossoms, using the sages' words to assert their own political views.

But this debate was no longer like the old kind—aimed at refining one's own path. Now it was mostly about strengthening one's own lineage, suppressing others. If a student from a humble family did not join a school, he could not move an inch.

This situation had only slightly eased after Gongyang Su Wang ascended the Academy's throne.

When Li Guanyi arrived, the two great Confucians suddenly fell silent.

Their gazes turned together, fixed on Li Guanyi. Their prior debate had merely been idle chatter—every ounce of their attention had been on Li Guanyi all along.

This enemy of the clans. This enemy of the world.

One solemn Academy Confucian whispered: "The world's greatest villain."

His gaze locked on Li Guanyi, voice slow and low: "Do you intend to destroy the order and rules of this eight-hundred-year world? Qin Wu Hou."

He saw at a glance the goal behind Li Guanyi's actions.

From the faintest traces, he recognized the nature of this 【Enemy of the World】—in his eyes appeared Li Guanyi, the man who shattered the Red Emperor's order, and also the mighty Bai Hu Da Zong.

Thus, the former debaters turned to Li Guanyi, bowed, and named themselves.

"Cheng Rulong."

"Zhu Jingmian."

"We greet Qin Wu Hou."

Li Guanyi nodded calmly. Zhu Jingmian lifted his gaze; the old man spoke slowly:

"What does Qin Wu Hou intend?"

"I hear you wish to gather students and go south of the river, to teach the common folk to read and write?"

Li Guanyi replied coolly: "What's wrong with that?"

Zhu Jingmian shook his head: "The people may be led, but not made to understand."

"The sages said: let the people eat, drink, be warm, and housed—then they may be guided. They cannot discern; they need kings to lead them. That is the way of the sage and noble."

"Are you, Qin Wu Hou, about to hand weapons to the people?"

Above, Chen Dingye held his cup and spoke coolly: "Li Guanyi has no foundation. I've never heard of Academy Confucians uniting to challenge one man."

Ji Zichang remained silent, watching Li Guanyi with worry.

The world's order had been stagnant water. He and Li Guanyi stirred it—and now waves churned. The things long suppressed beneath that calm surface surfaced at once.

When a monarch travels, a Shi Guan follows.

Ji Zichang's royal Shi Guan picked up his brush and wrote quietly:

"Autumn of Tianqi Year Eleven: the scholars of all schools of the Academy unite against one man."

Ji Zichang clenched his fist—this was the Clan's counterstrike.

The Hundred Schools unite against one man.

Future generations reading history will immediately assume this man is evil.

The royal clan would never dare openly defy the Emperor—they strike with subtle, inescapable, all-encompassing backlash.

Chen Dingye sneered, gazing down indifferently: "Shi Guan."

The Chen state Shi Guan stepped forward.

Chen Dingye drank alone, white hair falling at his temples, his wide sleeves embroidered with Chen's patterns hanging low:

"Record."

"Autumn of Tianqi Year Eleven: the Academy, Qin Wu Hou, fights alone against the Confucians."

The Chen Shi Guan bowed in assent.

Jiang Wanxiang laughed loudly and said: "Shi Guan."

The Ying state Shi Guan stepped forward: "Your Majesty."

Jiang Wanxiang said: "Record—"

"Autumn of Tianqi Year Eleven: Qin Wu Hou fights the Academy alone."

Ji Zichang looked at the two men on either side, then suddenly lowered his gaze. At that moment, the two great Confucians below began walking forward, their voices calm and unhurried:

"Qin Wu Hou is of noble birth and wields martial glory, yet why does the gentleman not cultivate literature, why not revere the Red Emperor's Law, but instead seek to establish a new order?"

"This violates all rites—it is a failure of virtue."

Another elder spoke slowly: "Rites, law, the Way of the sovereign."

"Qin Wu Hou is a minister, yet dares to disrupt these rites and laws—his name is unjust, his words unrighteous."

"He would defy the teachings of the sages—how, then, does Qin Wu Hou believe he understands the sages' teachings better than the sages themselves?"

Li Guanyi's palm rested on Chixiao Sword; he knew he could not out-argue these two aged masters—their logic was flawless, built entirely upon preserving the order they knew.

They defended their own interests beneath this foundational order.

This condemnation has lasted eight hundred years!

Li Guanyi wanted to draw his sword, but he knew he did not care for these decaying Confucians—he sought not scholars or great masters, but the young students of the Imperial Academy; the old cling to tradition, the young rush toward the age.

Yet it is precisely these decaying ones who wield immense influence.

Li Guanyi's eyes held a faint aura; he saw a vast, towering energy rising from the elder—this was the so-called 【Vast Righteous Qi】, the convergence of these great masters' will and spirit.

Vast and boundless, not martial, yet each possessed profound methods.

At this very moment.

A step rang out, utterly out of place with the atmosphere targeting Li Guanyi; a calm voice said:

"To establish a state and govern the people, teaching comes first."

"To contemplate laws and seek virtue is enough to gain minor fame, but not enough to move the masses; to draw near the worthy and keep distance from the distant is enough to move the masses, yet still not enough to transform the people. If a gentleman wishes to transform the people and establish customs, he must begin with learning."

The two aged masters froze. Thousands on the grounds stared at the young Confucian who had walked to Li Guanyi's side—his demeanor gentle and serene: "I am the one from Guanyi's side, here to respond to you masters."

Zhu Jingmian frowned: "There is no precedent for a teacher replacing a student."

Wang Tong smiled: "Today there is."

He glanced at Li Guanyi and said gently: "You are not skilled in these matters. The Academy's debates judge the sages' teachings and Vast Righteous Qi—you are a martial cultivator, unfamiliar with this."

Zhu Jingmian said: "Today there is—truly, one who distorts the masters' words."

Wang Tong said: "Will we forever remain confined beneath the masters' names?"

Cheng Rulong spoke gravely:

"The sages' subtle meanings and great truths are hard to transmit—true understanding comes but once in a hundred years."

Wang Tong smiled: "Would the master be angry to hear such words?"

"It is man who expands the Dao—how do we know the future cannot surpass the past?"

He stepped forward and said: "Please."

Cheng Rulong and Zhu Jingmian frowned; they were of nearly equal generation to Gongyang Su Wang—how could this mere youth dare to debate them?

Yet the sovereign stood behind them—they must endure; they did not storm off, but asked:

"…You, young man, are bold. Who do you wish to debate?"

Wang Tong shook his head, raising his gaze to the distance:

"Debating one by one—how long will that take?"

"All of you, and those watching from the sidelines, waiting for opportunity—"

"Come together."

Wang Tong took half a step forward.

A surge of energy triggered; in Li Guanyi's perception, waves of Vast Literary Qi representing the Hundred Schools surged skyward, crushing all directions—before his eyes, the entire Imperial Academy seemed to shift its form!

Master Wang Tong raised his head to behold it all.

He coughed and said:

"Do not fear. Do not fear."

He lowered his hand, the young Confucian master straightened his back, and whispered:

"Merely a common man."

?? Word count slightly exceeded—seven thousand words, so I was delayed. Sorry, sorry.