In the Jiangnan Circuit, scholars thrived like dense forests, while the common folk and impoverished scholars were akin to vines and weeds clinging to those towering trees for survival. Cutting down a few noxious weeds was no great matter, a commonly accepted truth. Yet the noble scholars, proud of their status, rarely targeted commoners directly, likely deeming it beneath their dignity. In contrast, the sons and daughters of lesser bureaucratic families, those slightly above the commoners, often acted with particular arrogance, going to great lengths to flaunt their status. The young nobles at Baoguo Temple who tormented the little beggar girl belonged precisely to this in-between class—kowtowing obsequiously to those above, where even a fart from an aristocrat smelled sweet, and looking down disdainfully on those below, finding even the finest literary works from humble origins unbearably vulgar.
These two groups, whatever else might be said of them, possessed excellent discernment. Upon seeing the poor scholar, they could instantly tell he was penniless and thus acted with complete impunity. Yet when they turned and saw the young man who claimed to be a prince, they felt a twinge of unease. After all, the fine cut and fabric of his robes, and the air of lofty superiority he exuded, could not be faked. In ancient times, the title of “prince” was reserved only for the legitimate sons of emperors and feudal lords. In the past five hundred years, as powerful clans gradually seized control of the government, the term had become somewhat diluted, and the legitimate sons of royal scions and noble families were all addressed as princes.
On the Jiangnan Circuit, the descendants of military families, aside from General Xu Gou’s children, would not dare to carry swords in public. The Longxiang General, after all, hailed from the Xu family of Gumu, not a true martial lineage. Jiangnan revered the elegance of feather fans and silk headscarves, ox-drawn carriages, and deer-tail whisks, not the swords and blades favored by lowly wandering knights. So who was this so-called prince? They couldn’t quite place him. After all, this unusually refined young man had just been seen chatting amicably with Master Tangxi and the Daoist nun Xu, so he couldn’t possibly be of ordinary birth. Yet if he were truly of noble lineage, why would he associate with that penniless wretch by the pond? In Jiangnan, there were more than a handful of individuals entitled to the title of “prince,” but none were known to carry swords.
Had he come from Beiliang? Was he a native of the northern wilderness or a traveler returning from afar?
The woman who had first confronted the little beggar girl felt a sudden brightness in her heart, not pausing to think deeply. She silently marveled at how handsome this young nobleman was. He was truly a sight to behold. If only he weren’t carrying a sword so crudely, but instead fanning himself with a feather fan or holding a deer-tail whisk, it would be even better. Secretly, she dropped the stones she had been holding and cast a flirtatious glance at this Walking with effortless grace stranger, this “prince.” Just as she was about to bow gracefully in greeting, Xu Fengnian felt a bit bored. Clearly, these people hadn’t grasped his meaning—they hadn’t connected him with the demonic figure from Beiliang who had dragged Liu Liting to his death. Otherwise, how dare this woman flirt with him so brazenly? In Jiangnan, the title of “prince” wasn’t as valuable or rare as it was in Beiliang. In great households, the eldest sons of noble families were all called princes, and no one would chase after them to dispute the title. But in Beiliang, if anyone had dared such a thing back then, Xu Fengnian would have long since sent his hounds and henchmen to pay them a visit.
Xu Fengnian smiled faintly and slowly drew his sword, ready to strike. Throwing arrows was such an elegant pastime, wasn’t it? These heads weren’t worth collecting, but their arms would do. Jiangnan was so adept at hurling insults—let them keep their tongues to curse others.
This subtle movement of Xu Fengnian’s seemed to be noticed by the poor scholar, who cried out softly, “No!”
Xu Fengnian turned his head, silently questioning with his eyes. The scholar tilted his head slightly, indicating the small girl still standing behind him, helpless and alone in Yangchun City. If he were to act now, how would the little beggar girl survive the retaliation afterward? Xu Fengnian furrowed his brow, his thumb still resting on the hilt of his sword. The belatedly enlightened sons and daughters of noble families finally came to their senses. The flirtatious woman was so frightened she took several steps back, nearly falling into the pond if not for being steadied by a young man with a triangular face, whose appearance was flattered by his servants. How impolite and barbaric it was for this brute to draw his sword at the slightest provocation!
Prince? Hah! Not bloody likely!
He must be some lowly military brat from a remote province. In Jiangnan, the term “yayin” ( Young Master) was a special designation for the sons of military families or officials. Since military camps were decorated with beast teeth and their gates were called “ya men” ( Yamen), the term “yayin” was quite fitting and soon became widespread. However, in Jiangnan, even the most powerful yayin deeply disliked this term. After all, it was a derogatory label bestowed by the scholar-officials, so how refined could it be? Only in frontier towns where feudal princes were stationed, where military men held sway and civil officials bowed their heads, did yayin have any reason to be proud.
Families were ranked by pedigree, and the sons and daughters of officials and aristocrats were similarly categorized into a hierarchy. Without even considering the capital, where officials were as numerous as cattle, the top tier in local areas included the eldest sons of powerful clans, as well as the sons of senior officials of the third rank, such as governors and censors. Next came the descendants of prefects and prominent clans, followed by the sons of lesser clans and local officials. At the very bottom were the offspring of bureaucratic families like the Gate of Servitude and Gate of Officials. The rank of one’s father was the most important factor. Even the descendants of renowned scholars and literary masters, though lacking official titles, were still superior to those from Gate of Servitude and Gate of Officials families.
If one included the capital and its surrounding areas, the situation became even more complex. There were grand secretaries, ministers of the Six Ministries, several great generals, and ancient families with deep roots. Within these groups were further divisions between those currently in power and retired officials, not to mention the hidden nobility of imperial in-laws. These powerful circles overlapped and intertwined, who could possibly untangle them all? But setting aside the capital, there was one thing everyone understood implicitly: in the local regions, no matter who you were, in the presence of the Six Feudal Princes, especially the only non-imperial prince in the empire, you had to behave yourself—like a snake coiling or a tiger crouching. Even Prince Huainan Zhao Ying, considered the most unambitious of all the princes, had a son whose status no one dared to underestimate.
Therefore, even though rumors of the Beiliang prince’s cruel behavior had filled Yangchun City recently, no one truly dared to imagine that the man standing before them was that very prince. His status was simply too lofty and extraordinary.
Xu Fengnian smirked, quietly sheathing his sword, and felt a pang of nostalgia for his days of unrestrained tyranny in Beiliang. Back then, he would walk with a falcon on one hand and a hunting dog on the other, flanked by his henchmen. Though it was far from refined, it was undeniably exhilarating. At that time, he hadn’t yet begun training in swordsmanship, and his moves were nothing but show, but after each brawl, rolling up his sleeves and delivering a few rounds of his infamous “Eighteen Kicking Techniques” was always satisfying. The group of noble youths and maidens, somewhat intimidated by the dual swords at this military brat’s waist, did not try to put on a brave front. They scattered, regrouping at a distance, whispering among themselves, convinced that this foreign nobleman was a detestable yayin who knew nothing of etiquette. Xu Fengnian didn’t bother to take offense. Otherwise, Prince Zhao Xun of Jing’an, who had been harassed into a soaked dog, would have to cry foul. There was no reason to place him on the same level as these insignificant offspring of petty officials.
Xu Fengnian jumped into the pond, bypassed the poor scholar, and reached out to help the little beggar girl up. He checked her chest with his hand—after enduring so many hardships, the prince had become somewhat of a self-taught physician. Using the Wudang sect’s Huangting technique, he slowly helped the girl dispel the internal bruising. The little beggar girl dared not move, standing there timidly. Fortunately, her complexion was no longer deathly pale. Seeing how anxious the little girl was, too afraid even to look him in the eye, Xu Fengnian didn’t know how to comfort her, so he simply said to the poor scholar, “It’s over.”
The scholar felt a great weight lifted from his shoulders, hesitated, but ultimately did not thank Xu Fengnian out loud. Princess Jing’an, seeing the prince roll up his sleeves, picked up a handful of coins—left by pilgrims as offerings—and handed them to the little beggar girl. She didn’t take them at first, glancing nervously at the scholar. Only after Zhang Ge nodded did she extend her hands, which were scarred from years of frostbite. Xu Fengnian said, “Go on, listen to the debate on kingship and hegemony, and bring her with you.”
Then the prince picked up two halves of a watermelon, climbed ashore, and without a word handed them to Princess Jing’an, saying, “You hold these.”
The princess’s face darkened. Holding half a watermelon in each hand—how undignified! But in the end, she lacked the courage to defy this ruthless brute who killed without blinking. After all, who in this world had the qualifications to challenge Prince Zhao Heng of Jing’an? And who could make a powerful feudal prince abandon a carefully laid plan? The poor scholar helped the little girl hide the coins, then took her hand and led her into Baoguo Temple. It was against the rules, but otherwise, who knew what revenge those young nobles might take out on the child? It was like giving her a small talisman for protection. Just hoped the young nobles of Yangchun would be a bit wiser. As the scholar crossed the threshold of the great temple, he saw ahead of him “Xu Dianxia” with his silk robe soaked through, and he smiled faintly, somewhat incredulously. Xu Fengnian seemed to guess his thoughts and, without turning his head, quipped as he led the way, “Don’t think I’m some decent fellow. I just hate bullies. Those people were picking on this child, so I picked on them. We’re all cut from the same cloth.”
The scholar, hearing this mocking remark, couldn’t help but laugh silently.
Princess Pei, filled with Grievance, heartily agreed.
Inside Baoguo Temple, the noise was deafening. Apart from the hundred or so scholars who could participate in the debate on kingship and hegemony, there were three or four hundred spectators, crowding every pavilion and terrace. Xu Fengnian strode directly to a relatively quiet corner and tapped the scabbard of his sword on two scholars whose reputations were relatively modest, signaling them to move and give up their mats. The scholars who had earned seats were no ordinary men. The debate on kingship and hegemony was at its most intense moment. Just as the two renowned Confucian scholars of Jiangnan were about to scold the unknown brute, they saw him make a throat-slashing gesture with his sword scabbard and reluctantly moved to squeeze onto a nearby mat with other scholars. Xu Fengnian brazenly took their place, then waved for the poor scholar to sit beside him. The latter didn’t hesitate, but as he sat down, his expression was dazed, as if overwhelmed by a thousand thoughts.
Xu Fengnian looked up and saw a middle-aged scholar standing far away, holding a deer-tail whisk and speaking passionately. He was tall and dignified, with a particularly flowing beard, a veritable paragon of elegance. Almost every sentence he spoke was met with thunderous applause. His tone was richly expressive, and each deliberate pause clearly allowed the audience time to applaud. Clearly, this was a scholar well-versed in the art of eloquence. Xu Fengnian, indifferent to the debate on kingship and hegemony and certainly not skilled in it, naturally felt nothing as he listened. But the poor scholar, sitting cross-legged, closed his eyes and murmured, “Righteousness and profit, kingship and hegemony—our predecessors in past dynasties could not fully clarify these concepts. Our current dynasty unified the land, and first the two chancellors of the Shangyin Academy discussed the principles of heavenly reason and human desires. Later, the schools of Yao, Lu, and Zhu each presented their views, finally clarifying these matters and preventing scholars of our generation from being lost in confusion. Yuan Honghu, who prides himself as a pure Confucian scholar, upholds kingship and denounces hegemony, condemning the idea of combining righteousness with profit and kingship with hegemony. He believes that such a pragmatic mindset will only erode the foundations of Confucianism, ultimately abandoning the path of kingship for the path of hegemony, and then descending into the Overbearing of Legalism.”
Though Xu Fengnian was an outsider, he could still grasp the general idea. He turned and asked, “So this fellow is arguing that heavenly reason supports kingship, believing that kingship and hegemony are fundamentally different?”
The poor scholar opened his eyes and sighed, “Yuan Honghu has always insisted that the Golden Age of ancient times was the Golden Age of kingship, while the Golden Age of today is merely the The Age of Decline of hegemony. He believes that people today are too focused on practical gain, a trend that must not be encouraged, or great calamity will follow.”
Xu Fengnian laughed, “With such rhetoric, doesn’t he fear the wrath of the capital?”
The scholar shook his head, “Whether this view is right or wrong, it is sincerely held. Regardless of whether the court takes offense, how can scholars be silenced for this? I personally favor the idea that success in practical matters is itself morality, and the achievement of beneficial results is itself heavenly reason. But I also admire Yuan Honghu’s scholarship and foresight. Though he detests unchecked personal profit, he does not entirely reject profit that benefits the people. As he said, even if one retreats again and again, acknowledging that kingship and hegemony cannot be separated, in five hundred years there may no longer be any true Confucian scholars left, only petty, profit-driven individuals. Therefore, Yuan Honghu once nearly drank himself to death in the Litaoting Pavilion, crying out that our generation should weep for the five hundred years to come. I cannot stand those empty talkers who bare their chests and let their hair down, but I deeply empathize with Yuan Honghu’s drunkenness and tears.”
Xu Fengnian was unconvinced, “You scholars are always worrying about the country and the people, but how many of you have lived as moral saints your whole lives? How many of you have ever touched a coin? Do you even know how much a steamed bun costs?”
The poor scholar smiled, “Great Confucian Yuan Honghu may not know, but I do.”
This time, it was Xu Fengnian’s turn to be speechless.
The two were so engrossed in their conversation that they didn’t notice the wine drifting along the winding stream, slowly approaching them. A beautiful maid, graceful and poised, arrived with the white jade wine cup. In an instant, this corner became the focus of everyone’s attention. The old scholars on the neighboring mat, who had attended countless debates but had rarely been given the chance to raise a cup, stared wide-eyed in envy. The two Confucians who had been driven away by the prince with his sword were especially jealous, wishing they could snatch the cup themselves. After all, today’s debate on kingship and hegemony was particularly significant, with Yuan Jiangyan and Yin Daolin, two of the most renowned scholars, participating. To be able to express one’s own ideas before these two great scholars was a rare opportunity indeed. Besides these two towering figures of Confucianism, there was also Cheng Jia, a master of rationalism who stood shoulder to shoulder with Yao Bai Feng. This old man had engaged in written debates with Yao Bai Feng, and every letter he wrote was widely circulated throughout the land. Chengzi once described himself as slow-witted and dull, spending his entire life dwelling on textual meanings, a subtle critique of Yao Bai Feng’s broad and free interpretation of the classics. Who among the Confucian scholars of Jiangnan would not smile knowingly at this? Although Yao Bai Feng’s reply—adding not a single word, nor removing a single character, asking why future generations would need to interpret the classics—was also full of hidden meaning, the scholars of Jiangnan clearly favored Chengzi’s teachings, believing that even if Yao Bai Feng’s scholarship was superior, Chengzi’s moral standing was higher.
Today’s debate on kingship and hegemony gathered three contemporary sages from both Confucianism and Buddhism, drawing hundreds of scholars from afar to Yangchun City. However, Chengzi had always preferred scholarly pursuits over socializing, and many local scholars had never even seen him in person, despite decades of longing.
As the beautiful maid approached with the wine, Xu Fengnian, who had been bored out of his mind, opened his eyes wide. He was good at cursing like a fishwife, and during his three years of wandering, he had learned many refined ways to insult people without using vulgar language. Unfortunately, when it came to serious philosophical debate, he was completely out of his depth. So he didn’t stand up but instead nudged the poor scholar beside him with his sword scabbard.
Xu Fengnian watched in surprise as the poor scholar, far from being intimidated, stood up confidently, took the wine cup, and drank it in one gulp. After handing the cup back to the beautiful maid, he declared loudly, “If it benefits the world, righteousness must bring profit. If it helps the people, the Dao must bring merit. Therefore, hegemony is rooted in kingship!”
A great uproar erupted within Baoguo Temple.
Mutterings such as “This fellow is merely seeking attention” and “This brat is just spouting empty talk” filled the air, filled with scorn and anger. Far away, Yuan Jiangyan, the foremost Confucian scholar of Jiangdong, and the monk Yin Daolin exchanged glances and smiled, clearly unimpressed. They merely thought another pragmatic youngster had joined the fray. But the next sentence—“After twenty-five years of hardship, I have come to realize that all the Confucian scholars of today who claim to have attained sincerity and integrity are in fact numb and insensitive”—left the two esteemed scholars stunned. This young man truly spoke without fear of death! An old man sitting nearby, who had been shaking his head all along, suddenly burst into laughter upon hearing this. The following words from the audacious scholar were even more outrageous, directly targeting Yuan Honghu, the number one scholar of Jiangdong: “If you ignore profit entirely, what good is crying over five hundred years from now? If the people today go hungry, who will you cry to then?”
Yuan Jiangyan did not get angry but laughed instead, not feigning magnanimity, but genuinely amused. However, his seat was far from the others, so no one could see the subtle changes in his expression.
The abbot of Baoguo Temple, Yin Daolin, murmured softly, “It’s an odd theory, but it’s interesting. Let’s see if he has the real talent to back it up.”
Yuan Jiangyan nodded.
To everyone’s surprise, the unknown poor scholar from a humble background spoke for half an hour on the topic of kingship and hegemony, going into great detail. This was completely different from the usual practice of Confucian scholars, who valued brevity and conciseness. In typical debates on metaphysics, since the subject was inherently abstract, one had to be even more abstruse, leaving the audience completely baffled—that was the true skill. If you understood it, it was like a sudden enlightenment from the Buddhist school; if you didn’t, who cared? If debates were to be strictly logical, wouldn’t that be terribly boring? Vagueness, digressions, and ambiguity were the essence. If White Horse was not a horse, that was profound; if White Horse was a deer, that was even more profound. Among the more than a hundred scholars present and the hundreds of spectators, those with strong self-control Reluctantly listened to this unrefined fellow’s endless chatter. Those with even stronger self-control began chatting with their neighbors about more stimulating topics. Those with the weakest self-control were already yawning, and if it were winter, they would surely be lifting their robes to scratch lice—not out of rudeness, but as a display of the elegance and freedom of the literati!
Xu Fengnian narrowed his eyes, his twin swords resting on his lap, his cheek resting in his hand, and began flirting with the pretty maid who was startled by the poor scholar’s torrent of words. He smiled and said, “Sister, how about a cup of wine to reward me?”
The maid, who was pitifully adorable, was already exhausted from holding the wine Kettle and three cups, and being teased by this rogue, puffed out her cheeks and glared at him.
Xu Fengnian was undeterred, “Sister, are you tired? Sit down and rest for a while? Or maybe I can help you hold it?”
She took the opportunity to glare at him again when no one was looking.
This young master looked decent enough, but why was he so shameless!
Xu Fengnian smiled brightly and persisted, “Sister, where are you from? Where do you live? How old are you?”
Princess Jing’an wished she could dig a hole and bury the prince right there to spare him from disgracing himself in public.
Fortunately, no one was paying attention to this young nobleman who was flirting with the maid, because Yuan Jiangyan, who hadn’t publicly debated anyone in nearly ten years, had finally spoken. Yuan Honghu’s scholarship was unrivaled in Jiangdong. A little digging revealed that the scholar’s view of combining kingship and hegemony was rooted in the teachings of the Master Wang of Shangyin Academy. This Master Wang had once been on the verge of becoming the Grand Chancellor of the Academy after winning two out of three debates. He won the first debate on names and realities but lost the second on heaven and humanity. The final debate was supposed to be on kingship and hegemony, but Master Wang unexpectedly withdrew. However, it was well known that he advocated for the combination of kingship and hegemony. Yuan Jiangyan asked gravely, “The Northern Liang school of Yao only touches on Chan Buddhism, but you openly advocate for practicality. Those who follow Chan Buddhism later, when they look back, find nothing to grasp and eventually leave, realizing their mistakes. But if it’s practicality, students who study it see immediate results. If they happen to succeed, they forget righteousness for profit. How will future generations deal with this? We scholars may laugh for a moment, but future generations will weep for centuries. Is this your concept of kingship and hegemony?”
A greater uproar followed!
Yuan Honghu’s statement clearly included the eminent Buddhist monk Yin Daolin, who was seated nearby. This showed that the top scholar of Jiangdong truly took the unknown scholar seriously. Everyone’s spirits were lifted, and they sat up straighter.
As Xu Fengnian shamelessly flirted with the wine-serving maid, he also noticed an older scholar in a yellow-glazed tile pavilion high above making a threatening gesture of cracking nuts. Xu Fengnian rolled his eyes and was about to say a few more words to the maid when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a middle-aged Confucian scholar staggering toward the pavilion. The old sword master blocked the steps of the pavilion, his sword intent surging.
This was a posture of extreme readiness, one he had not shown even when facing Wu Liuding, who bore the The Primordial King in the Reed Marsh!
The prince immediately stood up.
His figure flashed again and again, weaving through the crowd like a fish.
As Xu Fengnian approached the pavilion, he saw the Confucian scholar in green robes, twenty paces from the pavilion, raise both sleeves and wave them as if to brush away dust in a gesture of utmost reverence. Then he collapsed to his knees with a thunderous crash!
The scholar wept bitterly.
He bit out each word, Word by word.
Though his voice was low, it exploded in Xu Fengnian’s ears.
“Cao Changqing, a criminal of the fallen Xichu, pays homage to the Princess!”
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