Still carrying his wooden sword, Wen Hua walked along in a disgruntled mood. After finally escaping the Northern Desert and entering the territory of Li Yang, he had originally planned to visit Bei Liang first to deliver the complete set of erotic pictures he had painstakingly saved money to buy for Xiao Nian. However, Old Huang had strictly forbidden it, insisting that if he wanted to deliver them, he should go himself. Enraged, Wen Hua, penniless and indignant, decided to walk all the way to Bei Liang. Unexpectedly, Old Huang threatened him that if he left, he would never be allowed to meet again in the capital. After a furious outburst, Wen Hua still insisted on going to Bei Liang. To his surprise, Old Huang, for once, softened his stance, saying they would meet eventually, possibly in the capital, which finally dissuaded Wen Hua from his plan.
The two bought a rickety carriage. Wen Hua, accustomed to a hard life, was quite content. However, after traveling only a few miles, he tried to persuade Old Huang not to ride in the carriage anymore. As martial artists, they should toughen their bodies through training. He suggested they walk while leading the horses. Old Huang, of course, knew that the brat just wanted to show off by riding alone, flaunting his petty sense of pride. Initially, he refused, but eventually, unable to endure Wen Hua’s incessant nagging, he reluctantly paid for a mule for him. To this day, Wen Hua, a destitute wandering swordsman with nothing but a wooden sword, still rides the mule proudly, treating it like a noble steed. He attends to the mule’s needs with great diligence, even more so than when he worked in a teahouse, which irritates Old Huang every time he sees it.
Perched on the mule, Wen Hua, with a wooden sword in hand and a carefree grin on his face, asked, “Once we reach the capital, who should I challenge to a duel? I should warn you in advance—I used to fight on stages for marriage proposals, and whenever I got beaten up, Xiao Nian would carry me away. Don’t you dare just stand there and watch if the same thing happens.”
Driving the carriage, Old Huang replied calmly, “Bai Jiangshan from the East Yue Sword Pond.”
Wen Hua sucked in a breath of cold air and chuckled, “East Yue Sword Pond? I’ve heard they’re incredibly formidable. Can I pick someone else? It’s not that I’m scared of them, but when Masters’ Duel, I should warm up a bit first, right?”
Old Huang scoffed, “Fine, how about Qi Jiajie?”
Wen Hua asked cautiously, “What’s he known for? Which of the eighteen martial arts does he specialize in?”
Old Huang replied gruffly, “The top swordsman in the capital.”
Wen Hua grinned apologetically, “Old Huang, didn’t I ask you to find someone slightly less skilled? His reputation is too big; it’s not suitable.”
Old Huang asked, “Want someone with a smaller reputation?”
Wen Hua shamelessly nodded vigorously, “Let’s take it slow, step by step. You can’t expect to eat a big man in one bite, can you?”
Old Huang nodded along, “Then how about a girl named Cuihua, a swordswoman’s maid? Would that work?”
Wen Hua couldn’t bring himself to refuse outright. Thinking it over, he figured a maid couldn’t be too fierce, so he slapped his chest proudly and said, “Sure, why not? A real man never says no!”
Old Huang gave him a sidelong glance. Wen Hua, feeling provoked, flared up in anger and shouted, “So what if I’m a greenhorn who hasn’t tasted the pleasures of the flesh? What of it?! Why don’t you find me a girl with a slim waist, big breasts, and a big butt!”
Old Huang replied calmly, “Fine, I’ll find you one.”
Wen Hua, half-hopeful and half-pleased, asked cautiously, “You’re not pulling my leg, are you? Don’t you dare give me empty promises, or I’ll resent you for the rest of my life!”
Old Huang simply chose not to respond.
After a brief moment of hopeful delight, Wen Hua asked with some melancholy, “Old Huang, what level am I at, really? You only taught me two sword techniques, and I started learning late. Can I really beat others? Be honest with me—do I at least have the third-grade cultivation level?”
Old Huang chuckled, “Third-grade?”
Hearing the chuckle, Wen Hua immediately felt a chill run down his spine. Amid his fear, he couldn’t help but miss that girl in the teahouse who, for some unknown reason, couldn’t leave. She had a bit of a temper, but she didn’t talk much, which was quite rare for a woman. Pushing her out of his mind, Wen Hua asked cautiously again, “Then surely I’ve reached the fourth grade?”
Old Huang, impatient, snapped, “What difference does it make? When you face an enemy, just strike with the first sword. If that fails, strike again with the second. If you still can’t win, just run away.”
Wen Hua did his habitual thing—rubbing his crotch—and sighed, “Damn it, back then I spent half the day chatting with Xiao Nian, brainstorming for names like ‘The Supreme Swordsman of Central Plains.’ Looks like even if I become famous in the capital, people will still mock me as ‘Wen Two Swords’ or ‘Wen Double Swords.’”
Old Huang chuckled, “Wen Two Swords or Wen Double Swords not good enough? How about ‘Wen Two Taels’? Or ‘Wen Xiao Er’?”
Wen Hua was furious and shouted, “Two Taels, Xiao Er—go to hell!”
Old Huang sighed, “Two swords aren’t enough? That’s already a lot. If Li Chungan hadn’t been held back by his Two-Sleeve Green Snake technique back then and had entered the realm of Sword Immortal by opening the Sky Gate with a single sword stroke earlier, he wouldn’t have suffered such a tragic fate. As for Deng Tai’a heading to the East Sea now, isn’t he also trying to unify ten thousand swords into one?”
Wen Hua didn’t like hearing this, “Old Huang, it’s really not fair of you to criticize these two sword deities, old and new, like this.”
The old man smiled lightly and ignored him.
Glancing at the carefree young swordsman who had just left the shelter of his home, he mused, two swords to one sword—what a vast difference between heaven and man! Would this kid really be able to cross the threshold he had set for him?
At that time, would this kid choose to become a Sword Immortal on land or chase after a fleeting dream?
※※※
The late Emperor of Li Yang once said, “All the talents of the Spring and Autumn Period have fallen into my net.”
The area outside the eastern wall of the palace city, where the six ministries and other government offices were located, was jokingly referred to by the capital’s citizens as the Zhao Family Net. High-ranking officials gathered here, and every morning and evening, when they entered and exited the offices, the carriages and horses they rode were filled with officials who had leaped over one or even several Dragon Gate. The Hanlin Academy occupied a unique place in this area, where it could maintain good relations between the six ministries, clearly showing how refined and noble those Hanlin scholars were. The chief minister Zhang Julu came from this place. After remaining unnoticed for a full twenty years, he eventually emerged victorious, giving over forty Hanlin scholars great confidence. Recently, this prestigious place had produced another official, Jin Lanting, who quickly became a close aide to the emperor, making many envious. Unfortunately, not everyone could enter this place no matter how hard they tried. However, most Hanlin scholars could eventually move on to important positions in the six ministries after spending some years there. Some had been sitting in the same position for decades without any advancement, like stubborn wooden stumps. Although they had great knowledge, they lacked the ability to convert their reputation into real official ranks and tangible wealth. At best, they could secretly earn a little extra income by writing for others. Interestingly, these additional incomes were often paid in silk or rice, as those pen-wielding scholars refused to touch gold or silver with their hands, showing how much they valued their integrity.
The Hanlin Academy rarely added new members. Jin Lanting was once an exception. After he, a senior Hanlin scholar, left the Hanlin Academy to become a court recorder, a junior Hanlin scholar from a noble family spent countless family favors to be promoted, leaving the junior position still vacant. This caused a fierce competition among the influential officials in court who had outstanding sons. It was said that the vice minister of personnel and the light cavalry general nearly came to blows after a court session. However, for the existing Hanlin scholars, these were merely amusing anecdotes for their leisure time. The only one who couldn’t find humor in this situation was Song Kelǐ. Song Laofuzi had died of anger, losing his honor in his later years. Song Er Fuzi had no choice but to resign from his position as the Right Sacrificial Official of the National University and went into seclusion, refusing to see guests. After barely gaining some advantage in his bitter struggle against the Left Sacrificial Official Lu Daolin, he suddenly collapsed, and everything became like smoke. As for Song’s young prodigy, he had not yet been affected but was also in a precarious position within the Hanlin Academy. Those who had seemed like close friends before now gradually drifted apart, their loyalty changing more quickly than a woman’s mood.
Only one figure in the Hanlin Academy, previously considered a laughingstock, had only a nodding acquaintance with Song Kelǐ. Now that the phoenix had fallen and was no longer as mighty as a chicken, he actually took the initiative to come closer. Today, he brought a bottle of mediocre apricot wine to discuss scholarship with Song Kelǐ. In the Li Yang court, only the Hanlin Academy was allowed to drink during the day, as long as it didn’t interfere with official duties. Even if one fell asleep and snored loudly, it was not a problem. A few years ago, during an unexpected winter visit by the emperor, he encountered a drunken Hanlin scholar who was mumbling poetry in his sleep. While others were too terrified to speak, the emperor, known for his diligence, simply smiled and covered the man with a fox fur coat. He candidly told the other Hanlin scholars, “I cannot allow myself to slack off, nor can I tolerate laziness among officials in other departments. But I can tolerate your arrogance and pride in your talents.” This story became a celebrated tale throughout the court and the country.
Song Kelǐ, with nothing to do, was buried in reading a book he had flipped through countless times, “The Record of Morning and Evening Knowledge.” The old Hanlin scholar, who was said to be over fifty but looked as if he were in his forties, sat down with a smile and placed the wine bottle on the desk. Song Kelǐ looked at this senior in the Hanlin Academy, who was known to be the least skilled in scheming. He couldn’t help but sigh inwardly, not feeling particularly grateful, but rather helpless. It was true that the sky was unpredictable, but his own family had also experienced sudden misfortune after a period of prosperity, leaving Song Kelǐ, who had enjoyed smooth sailing since birth, feeling lost and uncertain about his future. He had no mood for drinking. But this fellow, who was not very considerate, kept coming to drink with him every few days, and at least he didn’t talk much.
Song Kelǐ knew that he had a speech impediment, but his handwriting was unique—blunt yet possessing its own strength, completely opposite to his father’s once-popular “Imperial Song Style” calligraphy that swept the court. When the Hanlin Academy had tedious tasks, colleagues liked to pass them on to this person. Yuan Pu, the strange man with the surname Yuan, was easygoing and accepted whatever came his way. There were rumors that he had no children, nor did he, like other Hanlin scholars, often give himself many titles such as “Master” or “Hermit.” Since entering the Hanlin Academy, Song Kelǐ had never seen him inviting friends to visit a brothel or anyone coming here to ask him for help. Although a gentleman should not form factions, Yuan Pu’s complete solitude was rare indeed.
Perhaps out of self-consciousness about his speech impediment, Yuan Pu, who was already middle-aged but still held the position of junior Hanlin scholar, continued to drink alone when he saw that Song Kelǐ was not drinking. Song Kelǐ could no longer bear the man’s behavior, put down his book, and softly asked, “Secretary Yuan, forgive my bluntness, are you trying to curry favor with my family in its time of decline, hoping that when my family rises again, I will remember your kindness during these days?”
The old Hanlin scholar smiled and shook his head.
If it had been anyone else, Song Kelǐ would not have easily believed them. For some reason, seeing this man, he truly believed him. Therefore, Song Kelǐ became even more curious and couldn’t help but ask, “Then why are you inviting me to drink at this time?”
Yuan Pu, who was not eloquent, took up his brush, spread out paper, and began writing. His strokes were not heavy, nor did he deliberately pursue the effect of carving into the wood, yet his writing was steady and rhythmic. After finishing, he put down the brush, turned the paper around, and Song Kelǐ took a look: “When a common man is brave and disrespectful, he causes chaos in the forbidden places; when a scholar is brave and unrighteous, he causes chaos in the nation. A gentleman’s bravery does not lie in defeating others, but in overcoming oneself.”
Song Kelǐ said bitterly, “Are you saying I am weak? But I am insignificant and my words carry little weight. How can I turn the tide? The emperor was furious, my father not only refused to see guests at home but also remained silent even within the house. What can I do?”
The old Hanlin scholar, who looked young but was actually quite old, picked up his brush again, turned the paper which had already been left mostly blank, and continued writing another sentence.
“A scholar has three things he does not consider: when cultivating himself, he does not consider family; when governing the country, he does not consider family; when pacifying the world, he does not consider governing the country.”
Song Kelǐ pondered for a while and still shook his head, “Confucianism’s cultivation of self, management of family, governance of the country, and pacification of the world are not like bear paws and fish lips that cannot be had together.”
Yuan Pu pressed his hand on the paper and rotated it, then smiled and wrote the word “Confucianism” on the paper, gently pressing the brush, he heavily crossed out the word “ism,” and added the word “school.” Song Kelǐ nodded, not refuting.
This person then wrote another line: “The words public and private are the boundary between man and ghost.”
Song Kelǐ was not a dull person; he understood immediately and could infer the rest, “Secretary Yuan wants to say that the word public is divided into big and small? And I not only lack even a small public heart, but I also only have selfishness?”
The old Hanlin scholar nodded. Would someone who is not extremely naive and bookish be so straightforward? Scholars value reputation and face; it was so a thousand years ago, and it will still be so a thousand years later.
Song Kelǐ was struck at his weak point, and with a bitter smile, he truly wanted to get drunk and forget everything this time. He took the wine bottle and poured a full cup of wine, lifting it and drinking it all in one go.
Yuan Pu, without tiring, wrote another line: “The nature of the human heart is inherently fickle; it is not the fault of the world.”
Then he pointed to his head with the tip of his brush, and then to his heart.
Song Kelǐ asked softly, “Secretary Yuan is teaching me to keep it in my mind and let it go from my heart.”
Yuan Pu nodded with satisfaction, preparing to put down his brush. Thinking for a moment, he slowly wrote the fourth line: “The decline and fall of families and nations cannot escape the root of gradual accumulation. The rise and prosperity of families and nations depend on the merit of gradual accumulation.”
“Thank you, Master Yuan, for teaching me. Song Kelǐ will never forget this for the rest of his life.”
Song Kelǐ stood up, tears streaming down his face, and deeply bowed.
Yuan Pu did not speak, only took a sip of wine, lowered his head to gently blow on the ink until it dried, then turned the paper over, changed to a hard brush, and in tiny, neat script wrote, “Do you know who is responsible for the downfall of the Song family?”
After sitting back down, Song Kelǐ turned his head to wipe away his tears with his sleeve, took a deep breath, and calmly said, “Seeing the mountain as a mountain and the water as water. It must be Prince Jing’an Zhao Xun.”
The two junior Hanlin scholars, with a significant age difference, one writing and one speaking, created a strange and eerie atmosphere.
If you were to gain power and authority, and public and private interests were at odds, would you seek revenge?
“No!”
If you were to become a pillar of the state, and public and private interests did not conflict, would you still seek revenge?
“It depends on the circumstances and the situation. Whatever is most beneficial to the country and its people, I will do. Even if Master Yuan considers me ambitious but lacking in talent, I still wish to plan for the world. This is truly my heartfelt belief.”
A scholar has three things he does not consider; would you still shake your head at this?
“No longer.”
Yuan Pu put down his brush, rubbed the ink between his fingers, and finally spoke in a hoarse, mumbled voice, “Song Kelǐ, you understand the Reason, because you are very smart, and you grasp many things with just a little prompting. But I still have to ask you one more question: can you endure humiliation and live in obscurity for ten or twenty years?”
Song Kelǐ replied without hesitation, “If Chancellor Zhang could do it, why can’t I?”
Yuan Pu spoke with great difficulty, his words slow like an old turtle climbing, “Your father will be ordered to return home in disgrace, and he will never be allowed to serve in office again.”
Song Kelǐ’s face turned pale.
Yuan Pu continued, expressionless, slowly stabbing the knife into Song Kelǐ’s heart, “Zhang Julu was still able to lie low and accumulate strength in the Hanlin Academy, eventually receiving the favor of the old chancellor’s patronage. But you won’t even be able to remain a junior Hanlin scholar.”
Song Kelǐ’s mind went blank.
Although he knew this tragedy was only a slight possibility and certainly not something this old Hanlin scholar could predict with a single word, hearing it felt like rolling thunder in the sky.
Yuan Pu stood up, his face filled with scorn, “What scholar doesn’t know how to write a few beautiful essays, doesn’t understand a few grand of Reason, or doesn’t claim to be a talented person unrecognized? You, Song Kelǐ, should have been driven out of the Hanlin Academy long ago.”
He came with wine and left with a wave of his sleeve.
Song Kelǐ slowly stood up and softly said to Yuan Pu’s back as he crossed the threshold, “Thank you again, Master Yuan.”
That day, Yuan Pu, who had been ridiculed by countless colleagues in the Hanlin Academy as a laughingstock, knocked on a side door’s copper ring after the palace’s night curfew.
The old eunuch, who had just retired from the position of chief eunuch in the Inner Court Supervisory Office, opened the door and bowed so deeply that his hands nearly touched the ground.
He did not speak, nor did he have any attendants.
Perhaps even the veteran eunuchs of the Twelve Supervisory Offices, who had served in the palace for decades, did not know that there was a direct path from a side gate straight to the emperor’s residence in the strictly structured palace.
There was not a single soul along the way.
Yuan Pu walked as leisurely as if strolling in a courtyard, all the way to the emperor’s residence. Even when he saw the Fuzi Tianzi, who had hastily put on his robe and come down the steps, there was still no one else present.
The emperor of the Li Yang Dynasty, upon seeing Yuan Pu, who was half-mute, smiled and bowed, saying, “Greetings, Master.”
Who in the world could deserve such a bow from the Son of Heaven?
The emperor approached a few steps closer and softly asked, “Have you found the right person?”
Yuan Pu, who had cut off half his tongue, nodded slightly and said in a calm, muffled voice, “Song Kelǐ.”
The emperor of the Zhao family felt a great weight lifted from his shoulders and did not bother to ask why.
Because the person before him had once been considered both a bosom friend and a great enemy by Xun Ping, and eventually used someone else’s hand to kill Xun Ping.
In the struggle of the Eight Dragons for the throne, he supported the current emperor Zhao Jian to sit on the dragon throne, making the old Prince Jing’an Zhao Heng harbor resentment for the rest of his life.
The mastermind behind the White Robe Case.
Promoted Zhang Julu.
Secretly ordered the dismissal of the Prince of Bei Liang.
Framed Prince Jiaodong Zhao Sui.
Recommended that the Crown Prince of Bei Liang marry the emperor’s daughter.
Kept Gu Jiantang confined to the position of Minister of War for eighteen years.
Induced Old Master Song to hide a copy of the memorial.
Proposed that Prince Zhao Kai carry a bottle to the Western Regions.
Internally combining Confucianism and Legalism, outwardly favoring Daoism and rejecting Buddhism.
Caused the Son of Heaven to call himself a puppet on strings.
Left 67 chess moves by Li Yishan of Bei Liang.
Only Yuan Benxi!
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