"The Dao is empty, yet in its use it is never exhausted. How fathomless — it seems to be the ancestor of all things. Blunt its sharpness, untangle its knots, soften its glare, merge with its dust. How murky — it seems to be present. I do not know whose child it is; it seems to precede even the Lord-on-High."
The old Daoist lecturing on the scriptures spoke in a voice so soft it was almost a whisper, yet every word landed clear in the ears of all who listened in the Scripture Hall. When he finished the final character, his eyelids drooped as if he might fall asleep at any moment, every bit the picture of a man in the last winter of his years.
Jiang Wang dared not slight him. He rose with his fellow senior disciples and bowed with grave respect before taking his leave.
For all his unremarkable appearance, he was Song Qifang, Vice-Dean of the Fenglin City Dao Academy — and before Dong A's arrival, its true Dean, rooted in Fenglin City for decades. Now past eighty, his cultivation had stalled at the Seventh-Grade realm, time and again failing to open the Heaven-Earth Gate. He had long abandoned any thought of advancement, burying himself in the scriptures and pouring his heart into teaching the Dao. For this he was deeply beloved.
When Dong A came, Song Qifang did not fight or scramble for position. He cooperated fully, letting Dong A take smooth command of the Fenglin City Dao Academy. In return, Dong A showed him the highest respect.
In all of Fenglin City, none commanded greater moral standing than Song Qifang.
Even after stepping out the gates of the Scripture Hall, Jiang Wang's heart would not settle. He remained adrift in a vast swell of feeling.
What was the Dao? Invisible, intangible, yet everywhere, inexhaustible. How does one know it, understand it, pursue it? The more he pursued, the more he understood, the more he knew — the more ignorant and small he felt.
He could only sigh: fathomless, how fathomless!
Ling He walked along reciting the lecture, as if chewing it over and over. Zhao Rucheng, who never much cared for lessons, seemed pensive too. Only Du Yehu yawned wide enough to swallow the sky, looking as though he had just caught up on his sleep.
Each term the Inner Court took in ten new disciples. Judged by the basic breathing method alone, Du Yehu's progress came right after Jiang Wang, who had manifested his Dao meridian early — a talent that could not be denied. Yet those so-called great Dao classics, he simply could not stomach. By contrast, the moment a technique class came around, he sprang to life.
The Inner Court was the true Dao Academy. Back in the Outer Court, only crude martial arts were taught, with the occasional visit from an Inner Court senior. But once admitted, there was a scripture lecture every five days and a technique class every ten — the former for the classics, the latter for practice — both taught by seasoned Daoists. At any time one could ask the masters for guidance, and the martial arts that once cost contribution points were now open to Inner Court disciples without limit.
Not that they held much appeal for them. It was not that martial arts were weak — rather, the entire cultivation world of Zhuang Kingdom took the Daoist arts as its backbone. The Fenglin City Dao Academy had gathered some martial techniques, but only as a transitional supplement for Outer Court disciples, so naturally they could not compare, and fell far short of the might of Dao arts. Thus no one would travel far to fetch what lay near.
"Senior Brother Jiang, wait!"
A voice sounded behind him. Jiang Wang turned and recognized Fang Heling, a peer who had entered the Inner Court in the same selection — a scion of the Three Great Clans of Fenglin City, and Fang Pengju's cousin.
As it happened, he should never have qualified for the Inner Court of the city academy. Yet every term, the Three Great Clans were guaranteed a seat — an unwritten rule all but set in stone. Fang Pengju's selection had been entirely proper; as for Fang Heling, who knew what the Fang family had paid in the shadows.
It was a harsh reality. Cultivation was a path beyond the mortal, yet any road walked by men was never free of tangled connections, never quite pure. Even the Fenglin City Dao Academy was no exception.
"Something on your mind?" Jiang Wang asked flatly.
"Ah, nothing really." Fang Heling, draped in a moon-white robe, cupped his hands in salute, striking a certain graceful figure. "I only came to apologize on behalf of Fang Pengju's wolfish ambition. He has been struck from the family register — the Fang family has no place for one so devoid of honor."
"He is him, and you are you. You need not apologize for him; what he did has nothing to do with you."
Jiang Wang turned and walked on. He had no mood to watch some young master put on a show.
But Fang Heling plainly felt insulted. Consider it: a scion of the Three Great Clans of Fenglin City, personally apologizing to a base-born nobody like Jiang Wang — surely Jiang Wang ought to be overwhelmed with gratitude, or at least clasp his hand and regard him with kindred warmth? Yet here was this cold shoulder!
"Now, Senior Brother Jiang, why the rush?" Fang Heling hurried a few steps, cutting in front of Jiang Wang's group, with a smile. "I forgot to mention — I took a Meridian-Opening Pill just yesterday, and my Dao meridian is now manifested."
He kept his composure, but the pride still leaked through.
"And?" Jiang Wang asked.
Fang Heling blinked, then said, "Of this term's Inner Court selection, only the two of us manifested our Dao meridians early. We ought to grow close."
He was young, after all. Though his upbringing kept him courteous, his words betrayed a disdain for all others. The heroes of the world, he implied, were only you and I.
He bore Jiang Wang no real grudge over Fang Pengju's death — had Fang Pengju lived, he would never have had this chance. It was only to uphold the Three Great Clans and keep the Inner Court seat that his father, all but certain to be the next clan head, had convinced the family to spend so dearly on a Meridian-Opening Pill. With only ten seats a year and countless eyes across Fenglin City watching, a worthier scion would have claimed it; Fang Pengju's early hold on that seat was proof enough.
"Oh."
Jiang Wang gave a single oh, stepped around Fang Heling, and went on his way.
He knew Fang Heling was the legitimate son of the Fang family's next clan head, the direct bloodline of the Three Great Clans — and that, for now, he wanted no conflict, might even call him brother to preserve the family name.
But on what grounds? Someone as outstanding as Fang Pengju had begged bitterly for a single Meridian-Opening Pill and gone unheard, until desperation curdled his heart. Then, days after his death, this Fang Heling had one. The brothers knew what Fang Heling was made of; if he had been worth a fraction, the Fang family would never have needed Fang Pengju to step forward.
Even though Fang Pengju had betrayed them and died in a single night, by what right did this clueless young master trample on him?
That Jiang Wang did not erupt on the spot was restraint itself.
Ling He, Du Yehu, and the rest had not so much as glanced his way from start to finish.
The group moved off, leaving Fang Heling standing where he was, his smile slowly freezing.
He had not expected to be ignored.
After swallowing the Meridian-Opening Pill and manifesting his Dao meridian in a single stroke, entering the Inner Court — he was still ignored!
He remembered when he first joined the Outer Court, meeting these leading figures of the Outer Court outside the academy. Eager, he had stepped up to greet his cousin's friends, to make acquaintance.
His cousin had not even seen him, and walked off arm in arm with the others into the distance.
The desolation of that moment he had never forgotten for an instant. So the first moment his meridian was steady, he came before Jiang Wang and the others.
He did not know if he wanted to prove something — but at least, you people must look at me once.
Yet nothing came of it.
Everything had clearly changed, yet it was as if nothing had.
"Jiang Wang!"
Fang Heling screamed the name in his heart.
He struggled to keep his expression under control, but his face had already gone ugly beyond bearing.