Chapter 282

In the secret grounds of the Imperial Academy, the ancient Dao of Confucianism harbors the vital essence of generations of scholars over eight hundred years, so that within the ancient Dao of Confucianism, the Gongyang Su Wang stands invincible—a consensus long established.

Yet if the vital essence of the ancient Dao of Confucianism does not stir with the movements of Heaven and Earth, it falls into stagnation.

The Sword Mad Elder Murong has challenged the Imperial Academy multiple times, yet the Gongyang Su Wang never wielded the vital essence of the Confucian ancient Dao in battle; and now, for the third time in eight hundred years, the vital essence of the Confucian ancient Dao manifests—not to slay traitors and rebels, but to sever the very Academy itself.

Among the Baijiada Sect, seven or eight out of ten coughed blood and collapsed, their primordial spirits and vital essences fused into righteous qi shattered completely; the Living Buddha of the Central Plains clasped his hands, his face filled with compassion, saying: "Amitabha, well said, well said."

The Su Yue True Immortal said:

"Su Wang, Confucianism has produced such a figure again."

Gongyang Su Wang replied: "What scholar? What Su Wang?"

"He has accomplished this feat—he is the Su Wang of this generation."

The Mo Juzi said: "Did you not regret destroying so many great Confucians and scholars' Dao hearts and righteous qi at once?"

Gongyang Su Wang said: "If their character had been forged through diligent cultivation, unshakable like Yan Hui's, Wang Tong's sword would have filled them with joy and a sense of kinship with fellow Dao-seekers—not with panic, fleeing hearts and shattering righteous qi."

Some students fell silent, feeling their own vital essence no longer suppressed; they rose and bowed deeply to the young master who leaned on the Su Wang sword, and slowly, all the students did the same, saying: "Thank you, Master."

"Thank you, Su Wang."

The young master turned aside, refusing to accept such reverence.

He did not seize this moment to consolidate his prestige and forge his own great righteous momentum; instead he said:

"Do not do this."

He looked back and answered: "I am merely a common man."

He opened his hand, and the several swords within the ancient Dao of Confucianism rose again, flying back into the Dao, their scabbards fitting snugly into place, settling firmly; the vital energy within the ancient Dao slowly dispersed, its consumption having been extreme.

The scholarly debate within the Imperial Academy ended in a way no one had anticipated.

Among the great Confucians and scholars of the myriad schools, each revered for their annotated classics, their righteous qi was utterly shattered; those who had once gained great fame solely through their "establishment of words" suddenly vanished as if erased from the world.

The atmosphere within the Imperial Academy gradually shifted.

Gongyang Su Wang tore down those walls, while Master Wang Tong severed the colossal mountain looming above the students' heads.

The world is changing; hearts yearn to depart.

The Imperial Academy is no exception.

In the past, where one went required the master's permission; now, with the great Confucians fallen from grace, the students look up and feel that nowhere in the world is off-limits—that every corner of the four directions is a place to enact one's ambitions.

Both Chen State and Ying State are undergoing change.

Chen Dingye, Jiang Wanxiang, and the Tiance Prefecture have all begun recruiting students.

Chen State offers gold, silver, and land.

Ying State offers official rank and the fulfillment of ambition.

Compared to these two great states, the Tiance Prefecture is penniless—utterly destitute; Li Guanyi cannot grant these students special land privileges, for that would create noble lineages.

The master severed the scholarly cliques; the students came to Jiangnan not to be molded into noble families. Even if Li Guanyi were to sacrifice his principles and offer special favors, official posts, gold, and silver—he is no match for Chen or Ying State.

Wen He, Wen Lingjun, and Feng Xiao still view things with equanimity.

At this moment, Li Guanyi's reputation has not yet fully manifested.

These students naturally do not know his true nature.

He is merely biding his time.

Autumn approaches; the wind grows crisp and refreshing. In Wang Tong's courtyard, wind chimes ring clear and melodious. Li Guanyi brings wine to visit his teacher; Fang Qiao welcomes him in. Inside, Second Master Du Ke is instructing many junior students.

Wei Xuancheng, seeing Li Guanyi arrive, comes to brew tea.

Master Wang Tong is reading in the inner chamber. Seeing Li Guanyi, he smiles faintly, invites his disciple to sit, and shares tea with him. Li Guanyi takes his teacher's pulse and diagnoses him, using the Huangji Jing Shi Shu to heal him.

Master Wang Tong's Dao discourse drained much spirit, yet it did not bring him to the brink of death.

He was born with a constitution prone to self-destruction through excessive brilliance; the Grand Master of the Yin-Yang School advised him to rest, study quietly within the Academy, ignoring the world's ills—perhaps then he might live longer. If he could survive past forty, he might reach sixty.

And if he reached sixty, he might live even longer.

Yet from his travels across the land, it is clear he never heeded the Yin-Yang School's Grand Master's advice. Now, having accomplished such great deeds, he could have become renowned throughout the land, rising to lead Confucianism—or even the entire Academy.

Yet Wang Tong remains as always: reading, writing, drinking tea.

Waiting for Heaven's will.

Li Guanyi arrives, and Wang Tong chats with him about ordinary matters: today's wind is strong, each day colder than the last; autumn is near, soon oranges will be in season, the sky high and clear, new vegetables appearing.

"Fresh vegetables blanched, tossed with sesame oil and sprinkled with sesame seeds—excellent with rice."

As they spoke, the young master took a bamboo scroll, placed it on the table, and handed it to Li Guanyi. Wang Tong said:

"The world is changing, clouds and winds rising. I see students already leaving for the four corners. But I, having shattered the scholarly cliques, cannot use my own prestige to recruit talent for you."

"That would make me merely a new scholarly clique."

"The world's changes are never simply black or white. Do you remember my question about human nature being evil?"

Li Guanyi replied: "When Heaven and Earth unite, all things are born; when Yin and Yang meet, transformation begins; when nature and cultivation unite, the world is governed."

Wang Tong said: "I merely used the power of the ancient Dao of Confucianism to briefly brush away the dust upon the myriad schools. But as long as there are people, there will be selfishness, distractions. A year or ten years means nothing—but decades, centuries, problems will reemerge."

"A permanent, final solution—that is childish talk."

"A hundred years from now, two hundred years from now, the same problems will arise again."

"But do not fear. There will always be those who come after."

"Replace the old, establish the new. Today's new will become tomorrow's old. Constant renewal, constant clearing of accumulated corruption—this is how we move forward."

The Confucian theory of evil nature observes humanity's innate tendencies, yet believes education and self-discipline can lead to goodness: trees grow crooked, yet can be guided into towering straight pines; steel rusts, yet polishing makes it sharp.

So too with people.

Wang Tong said: "The things I wished to accomplish in my youth—I have done them. The path ahead is yours." His finger lightly touched the bamboo scroll, which slowly unfurled, revealing a list of names.

Fang Qiao, hailed as the student with the greatest strategic acumen.

Du Keming, renowned as the one with the boldest decisiveness.

Wei Xuancheng, with calm eyes and earnest words, cut straight to the heart.

More followed: pale gold characters glowed under the sunlight with a faint, quiet resonance: "I asked my disciples and students; two hundred thirty-seven of them are willing to join your Tiance Prefecture and share the world's fate. The remaining hundred have their own pursuits."

After a pause, Wang Tong said: "This is good."

Li Guanyi took the bamboo slip in both hands and said: "Master, will you go to Jiangnan to reside temporarily?"

Wang Tong replied with a jest: "Yesterday I dreamed that Yanzi, carrying Master's command, asked: 'Return and rest?' It must be the First Master calling me—I won't leave. If I go too far, the First Master might lose his way."

"I came here at five. I thought reading in the Imperial Academy was enough. I won't go see your Jiangnan."

Li Guanyi said: "Master…"

Wang Tong said: "I'm not doing this for you, but because of you, I've finally seen the chance to sweep away the accumulated scholarly cliques in this academy. Still, when students scatter to the four corners, they'll be influenced in countless ways. The world is vast, and heroes rise everywhere."

"It's not that simple."

"The enemy of ten thousand men has one final saying."

Li Guanyi placed the bamboo slip listing Wang Tong's students into his sleeve, rose, bowed deeply with solemn reverence, and said: "Please, Master, teach me."

Wang Tong replied: "A strong state fights with soldiers; a hegemon fights with strategy; the royal way fights with righteousness; the imperial way breaks with virtue; the imperial throne fights with non-action."

A powerful state relies on its army; to achieve hegemony, one needs strategy; the noble royal way demands great righteousness.

A thousand-year emperor requires 【Virtue】, yet this 【Virtue】 is not personal morality. To achieve the throne of the Human Emperor, one needs grand momentum—naturally accomplished.

Li Guanyi, lost in thought, replied: "No need for strategy, no need for great righteousness—because the High Realm is to hold all the people of the world in one's heart, so all the people gather behind that person."

"Only the one who does not seek immortality for himself is placed highest by all under heaven. This is the High Realm of the Human Emperor, above the thousand-year emperor—his eyes see not his own achievements, but the achievements of the people themselves."

Master Wang Tong gazed at his student's reply and smiled.

"You've seen it."

Li Guanyi froze.

Such a talent can make instant judgments.

Wang Tong said nothing.

Only lowering his gaze in a smile, he extended a finger toward the sky beyond the door and said:

"The heavens and earth are vast—go."

Li Guanyi stared at Master Wang Tong, bowed, rose, and departed. Qiao Qian personally escorted him out. The autumn weather changed on a whim. As Wang Tong read, his voice remained calm and clear:

"Observe the rich by whom they associate; the poor by what they take; the successful by what they cherish; the desperate by what they do."

"Only a gentleman may speak of change."

"Those who love fame and profit are petty men! I have never seen a benevolent man who delights in fame and profit!"

The voices outside seemed to fade gradually.

An elder with silver hair walked in. Master Wang Tong, as if expecting him, lifted his gaze and smiled: "Elder Murong, you're late." The visitor was none other than Elder Murong, one of the Four Legends. He sat calmly and said:

"Debating with the Crimson Dragon took some time."

"I had no intention of coming."

"I came only because Sword Mad Murong Longtu invited me. But I'd just returned to Zhongzhou when I saw you do this—shattering the righteous qi of the Hundred Schools' great scholars. What boldness."

"Aren't you afraid future generations will bury you?"

Wang Tong laughed freely: "A gentleman hides his name—it matters not."

The silver-haired Elder Murong gazed at this young Confucian scholar.

To him, Zu Wenyuan and Wang Tong were of the same generation.

When Wang Tong was born, he had passed by and cast a divination for him.

It was Kun turning into Shi.

He advised Wang Tong's parents to send him to study—he might become a Master. But even the martial legend Elder Murong never imagined Wang Tong would reach this point, with such blazing prestige.

Wang Tong smiled: "Elder Murong was once the master of the Dao Sect centuries ago. Later, you witnessed the chaos in the Imperial Academy, recognized its corruption, refused to partake in its decay, and departed."

"Today I too see the chaos in the academy, find its filth, and find its students worthy—so I sweep away the filth for them. You are a martial legend, yet also a sage of the academy's history. Please watch: how long will this academy remain pure?"

Wang Tong did not believe in permanent solutions.

Wang Tong believed there would always be those who came after.

Elder Murong looked at Wang Tong and thought of Zu Wenyuan: in the academy, some sought to form clans and crush all beneath them—but others, like these two, also existed. Yin and yang turned, present in all things.

Elder Murong sighed softly: "Each one of you is so arrogant."

In his eyes,

Zu Wenyuan and Wang Tong were both arrogant men.

Yet their arrogance was not toward people.

They were gentle and courteous to all.

Their arrogance was toward the world, toward time and existence—they saw the world's sickness, and when they found a chance to change it, they moved without hesitation.

Wang Tong said plainly: "This is what my Confucian saying means."

"A gentleman stores his tools within himself, waiting for the right moment to act."

"But the corrupt scholars of today don't grasp the weight of this saying—they twist it as proof they should wait to become officials and rise above others. Even 'the Master established himself at thirty' is twisted by some parents into 'marry at thirty.'"

"As for arrogance—"

"What is the point of reading if a scholar has no pride?!"

"Some read for beauty, some for gold—but surely some read for the world, for the people. Or even if they read for gold and beauty, their hearts still hold a wish for the world—that too is good."

"Elder Murong, I am Wang Tong!"

Wang Tong pointed to himself—his face finally showed the arrogance befitting a young man.

Earth two transforms into Heaven one; supreme virtue dwells in low position; able to align the multitude in righteousness, one may rule.

Though possessing sovereign virtue, is it not yet the right time? You will surely comprehend the will of all under heaven.

Thus, he was named "Tong."

Wang Tong—the Tong that unites the aspirations of all under heaven!

The Dao Master smiled and nodded; for the first time since he had seen Zu Wenyuan, a trace of human warmth returned to his face. This unparalleled master of the Dao, who had long remained silent, said: "You have done better than I."

Wang Tong did not humble himself.

He simply replied: "Those who come after us will do better than all of us."

"I am not a long-lived man. Even without this matter, I fear I have little time left. Today, having met you, Master Dao, I have one request."

The Dao Master seemed to understand: "It is about your disciple?"

Wang Tong nodded calmly:

"... Yes."

………………

Fang Ziqiao escorted Li Guanyi out. His voice was calm and gentle: "After this, we will go to Jiangnan. The Master and Gongyang Su Wang will remain here, in this remnant of the Academy. As for those students who left—they come from noble families. There is nothing to be done."

Li Guanyi said: "Aren't you also from a noble family?"

Fang Ziqiao replied: "Born into a noble family, devoted to the Academy, looking toward all under heaven."

"We scholars do not read merely to utterly obey our parents."

"The greatest filial piety honors one's parents; the next avoids disgracing them; the least provides for them. Nowhere does it say one must follow one's parents' every wish." He smiled and said: "Leave me one of your Tiance Prefecture titles."

"The road ahead is long. I must still go see the Master. I won't see you off."

Li Guanyi said: "Then return, Brother."

"I will walk the road ahead alone."

Fang Ziqiao smiled: "Good." On the Academy's grand path, Li Guanyi and Fang Ziqiao parted ways. The young man walked slowly forward. Before he had gone far, he heard a clamor: "Qin Wu Hou is coming!"

Li Guanyi stopped. Ahead, a crowd of students surged toward him.

Their leader bowed and asked: "May we ask, Qin Wu Hou, how is the Master's health?"

Li Guanyi answered: "The Master's health is as it always has been. Though somewhat drained, his life is not in danger."

The student sighed in relief: "That's good. That's good."

Then he smiled and said: "I am Mao Yue. I salute you, Qin Wu Hou. The Master has shattered our chains and broken the Academy's scholarly cliques. All the scholars have left. We wish to join the Jiangnan Fire Qilin Army."

The students all chorused: "We wish to join Jiangnan!"

Li Guanyi fell silent, then said: "Thank you all, but please return home." His refusal startled the students. Then Li Guanyi smiled and said:

"I hope you will turn back, and not join Jiangnan merely because of the Master's name."

"That is not what the Master wishes."

"He does not want people to be swayed by blind reverence for great scholars. What you do, though beneficial to Li Guanyi, still contradicts what the Master truly desires."

"Li Guanyi cannot accept this."

Li Guanyi paused, then added: "Of course, if, after reflecting calmly on all this, you still wish to come to me, Li Guanyi will sweep the mat and welcome you."

Qin Wu Hou bowed slightly to the students.

The students exchanged glances, then returned the bow. Though they left that day and Li Guanyi did not accept them, his reputation among the Academy's students and contemporary scholars rose sharply.

Yet after the students departed, the young man watched them vanish into the distance, then suddenly grinned, glanced around to ensure no one was near, and lightly slapped his own forehead, gritting his teeth:

"You—you're pretending!"

"Following the Master's fame, you could have gathered a huge wave of students for Jiangnan. Such a perfect chance! You might even save some money, you!"

"Fool! Absolute fool!"

Li Guanyi grinned bitterly and sighed deeply. He wanted to accept these students. But he felt that if he did, something inside him would be lost forever.

Li Guanyi thought he was a stubborn, awkward fellow.

He could have simply closed one eye, abandoned a part of his principles, and gained immense benefit—no one would care. Yet at the very last step, he froze. He could not do it.

"But I won't."

Li Guanyi muttered to himself.

Blending with the world, one risks sinking into corruption.

He pressed his fingertips to his brow, touched the wooden hairpin binding his hair, then pressed his sleeve—inside lay the bamboo slips written by Master Wang Tong. Removed from them were the names; one scroll remained, written in Master Wang Tong's own hand: The Twelve Strategies of Peace.

Zu Wenyuan. Wang Tong.

Li Guanyi stood quietly. Perhaps it was the autumn wind, cold and desolate, but suddenly he missed the days when he was still in Yicheng—reading with Wang Tong, studying the classics under Old Zu, practicing Wu Gong at the Xue household, where Xue Lao laughed heartily and corrected his swordplay and archery.

Brother Yue could still be seen, discussing the world together.

But these old friends, these elders—

Step by step forward, one by one arriving, one by one departing.

Time is merciless.

No one can walk the entire journey with you.

This is the tide. He was truly moving forward step by step. Some helped him. Others stopped—staying where they were, for their own will. But Li Guanyi must keep walking.

Li Guanyi suddenly understood the heroes and warlords recorded in history: young, vigorous, laughing boldly, surrounded by friends. The farther they went, the lonelier and colder they became.

Yet even in loneliness, even in coldness, one must press forward without looking back.

For if this heart falls, if one's aspiration sinks, then all those teachers, companions, and comrades who left along the way truly vanish.

So even if alone, one must walk to the end.

To refer to oneself as "the solitary one" and "the bereft one."

Because all beside you are gone.

Old Zu died to save him from Chen. The Master shattered the Academy's corruption with righteous qi, calmly awaiting his fate. The warriors of the Fire Qilin Army fell on the campaign to pacify Jiangnan. Li Guanyi felt—if one day he abandoned these foolish things,

they would be angry.

How did you end up like this?

Li Guanyi clenched his fist and murmured, "I cannot stop now, cannot turn back."

"Grand Elder, Master, fellow comrades."

"I must ultimately reach the end."

His sleeves fluttered, and suddenly the annals glowed green—growth demands a price and experience; Li Guanyi finally understood the mindset of those warlords: why a hegemon would rather slit his own throat than surrender, than turn back.

Li Guanyi felt as though he walked within a real, existing history—this great tide bore down upon him, could not be turned back, nor did he wish to turn back; he moved forward beneath this vast, overwhelming current.

As Li Guanyi walked forward, he suddenly caught a faint scent of wine, and then a mocking voice spoke:

"Qin Wu Hou, you just looked so righteous and stern, yet now you regret it? Hah! Someone saw you—how unbecoming!"

The voice was carefree, and familiar.

Li Guanyi instinctively turned his head and saw a familiar figure seated beneath a great tree said to have been planted eight hundred years ago by the Red Emperor himself.

Dressed in a dark red robe with golden embroidery, a jade belt, no longer bearded, yet still weary, he held a wine flask and forced a smile.

Emperor Ji Zichang of the Central Plain.

Li Guanyi said, "Brother Changwen, it's been a long time."

Ji Zichang paused, his expression growing even gentler: "Hahahaha, good."

"Master Yao, come, come."

"I've found something for you while drinking!"