"Eventually, a scholar from White Deer Academy ascended to the position of Grand Secretary. Unlike his predecessors, he abandoned their convictions and pledged himself to Emperor Renzong. Enduring the scorn of his peers, he resolved the matter for the throne. The tumultuous Succession Dispute was finally laid to rest."
"Because of this, White Deer Academy earned Renzong's enmity. He realized that the academy's existence threatened imperial authority. It was then that Cheng Hui proposed establishing the Imperial Academy, so the court could cultivate its own scholars."
"And so began the decline of Confucianism."
This was the origin of the rivalry between White Deer Academy and the Imperial Academy over Confucian orthodoxy.
The Imperial Academy was a state institution; White Deer Academy was private. How could a private school possibly contend with a state one? Understanding dawned on Xu Qian.
Xu Xinnian finished speaking, then adopted a testing tone: "What are your thoughts, Brother... on the Succession Dispute, I mean. Not the academic side."
*He thinks I can't handle the academic discussion because I'm an uneducated brute?* Xu Qian's mind churned, but he smiled. "On the surface it was about succession. In truth, it was a struggle for power."
"To enact their ambitions, scholars must wield authority. But the total power in any kingdom is fixed. When you seize more, others lose. The ultimate form of factional warfare is to hollow out the emperor's authority and become the uncrowned king."
Xu Xinnian had posed the question casually, but his expression changed dramatically upon hearing this.
Xu Qian glanced at him sideways. "What, am I wrong?"
*Very much right, but these words should not be spoken so freely.* Xu Xinnian drew a deep breath. "Continue."
Xu Qian nodded. "No matter how formidable the Confucian dragon-slaying art may be, imperial power remains supreme. 'Master the literary and martial arts, then sell them to the ruler's court' — that single saying says everything. Throughout history, whether virtuous or corrupt, no powerful minister has met a good end."
Holding the reins of government is only temporary. In the end, every powerful minister is purged, because a subject remains a subject. In his previous life, Xu Qian had read enough history to know that uncrowned kings were plentiful — not one ended well.
*Cao Cao doesn't count. The collapse of imperial authority during wartime is a different matter entirely.*
Xu Xinnian pressed urgently: "Is there any way to break free?"
This was knowledge the academy would never teach.
"No solution." Xu Qian shook his head with a sigh. "The court is a battlefield. Winning factional struggles brings momentary pleasure — and a funeral pyre for your entire family."
His words were bizarre, yet his eyes seemed to carry a thousand years of history. Xu Xinnian stared, momentarily stunned.
"However, I do have one idea." Xu Qian shifted his tone.
"Please, Brother."
"Grand Confucian Master Qian's story is a living example. When you can influence a nation's fortune, you cease to be a scholar who depends on imperial authority and become a power that stands on equal footing with the throne."
Xu Xinnian's eyes brightened. But before his joy could fully surface, Xu Qian added with practiced nonchalance: "Er Lang is remarkably clever. A pupil worthy of teaching."
Xu Xinnian finally caught on — *I was the one testing him!*
Xu Qian fell silent, turning a question over in his mind. White Deer Academy may have been cut off from the path of officialdom, but it remained the sacred seat of Confucian cultivation. Only the route to office had been severed.
Though Xu Xinnian had not clarified whether it was the academy's prospects in officialdom that had declined, or the entire Confucian system, Xu Qian believed it was the latter.
Consider what Er Lang had said beside the waterfall: in two hundred years, the highest rank achieved in Confucianism was the third realm.
Was it because, beyond the third realm, the Confucian system demanded one enter government service? Or did it involve the academy's fortune?
"Then what does this tablet mean? Why is it placed here?" he asked.
Xu Xinnian gazed at the inscription on the stone, his expression complicated. He sighed. "This is a continuation of the Confucian orthodoxy dispute — or rather, a part of it."
"That Second Sage, Cheng Hui, was extraordinary. After founding the Imperial Academy, he knew that to surpass White Deer Academy, he needed his own educational system. Otherwise, Imperial Academy students would still essentially be White Deer Academy students."
"So he devoted himself to studying the sage's classics, re-annotating them and infusing his own philosophy. It took thirteen years, but he created a system that surpassed its predecessor."
"'Preserve Heavenly Principle, Eradicate Human Desire'?" Xu Qian's mind stirred.
Xu Xinnian nodded. After their earlier conversation, he was now willing to discuss academic matters with his rough-edged cousin. "Second Sage Cheng believed that all things in the world follow a fundamental law called 'Principle.' Principle is the most essential thing in existence — the ultimate truth."
"All things thrive by adhering to Principle. But amid the chaos of the world, people lose themselves, lose sight of Principle."
"So one must 'preserve Heavenly Principle and eradicate human desire'?" Xu Qian prompted.
The phrase was the banner of the Imperial Academy's school of thought. How it was actually implemented, Xu Qian waited to hear.
Xu Xinnian continued: "The Second Sage annotated the sage's works and established an entire system of rules. A scholar who followed these rules would never err. They would be correct. They would be in harmony with the laws of heaven and earth."
"This system elevated loyalty, filial piety, chastity, and righteousness to the level of Heavenly Principle."
Xu Xinnian let out a bitter laugh. "'When the ruler commands the minister to die, the minister must die. When the father commands the son to perish, the son must perish. For the greater good, sacrifice your life. To preserve your virtue, march to your death.'"
Xu Qian listened in silence, then suddenly asked: "And what does Cijiu think? Is this right or wrong?"
Xu Xinnian froze. He stared blankly at his cousin, lips parting, but some mysterious force sealed his throat, rendering him speechless.
Xu Qian understood. That force was called *ideological imprisonment.*
"So that's why this tablet exists?" Xu Qian turned his gaze back to the inscription.
"Yes." Xu Xinnian nodded. "The rivalry between White Deer Academy and the Imperial Academy is one of scholarship, of ideas. This tablet has stood in the Second Sage's Shrine for two hundred years, and it has never fallen. As long as it stands, White Deer Academy can never surpass the Imperial Academy."
"The Dean has spent over a decade in solitary study, poring over texts, trying to refute what this tablet represents — to create a more complete, more correct philosophy. But he failed."
"Because it represents truth. It represents correctness," Xu Xian said.
"Exactly." Xu Xinnian sighed. "It's not just the Dean. Every generation of Grand Masters and teachers at the academy has struggled against this inscription. None have succeeded. How could ordinary people refute the philosophy of a Second Sage?"
"And the blank tablet beside it..." Xu Qian had a suspicion.
"The Dean placed it there. But in over a decade, he has never once set brush to it." Xu Xinnian pointed to the table beside the empty tablet. "Later, students and Grand Masters attempted to write on it, to rival the Second Sage's inscription. But every morning, the writing would be wiped away. The brush and inkstone remained, though. Perhaps the Dean still harbored a sliver of hope."
"Because of this, whenever a student feels inspired and thinks they've written something brilliant, they come here to try. But the person the Dean has been waiting for has never appeared."
"I once believed I could be that person. I wrote on the tablet too..." At this point, Xu Xinnian stopped, clearly unwilling to revisit that youthful episode in front of his cousin, lest he suffer another bout of social death.
*Loyalty unto death to repay the monarch's grace; fame that flows through the ages for all eternity.* Xu Qian stood before the inscription, silent for a moment. Then, in a low, solemn voice:
"Cijiu, let me ask you — which weighs more: the monarch, or the people of the world?"
Without hesitation, Xu Xinnian answered: "The people, naturally."
Xu Qian pressed further: "Then why do you study?"
Xu Xinnian replied instinctively: "To serve the monarch and repay the nation..."
He froze mid-sentence.
Xu Qian was unmoved. "Is leaving a mark in the histories truly the lifelong pursuit of a scholar?"
Xu Xinnian did not answer. His silence spoke volumes.
The spectacle of two White Deer Academy Grand Masters angling to poach poetry also spoke volumes.
Xu Qian let out a quiet sigh.
*When the ruler commands the minister to die, the minister must die — by what right?*
*When the father commands the son to perish, the son must perish — by what right?*
*Can't this godforsaken society have a bit more human dignity?*
Xu Qian smiled. "I'm no scholar, but I'd like to write something. Cijiu, grind the ink for me."
Xu Xinnian frowned.
Xu Qian gestured at the table. "The brush and ink are laid out — they're here for people to use. If my writing is poor, someone will wipe it away tomorrow."
Xu Xinnian considered, then went to prepare the ink. Moments later, Xu Qian stood before the blank tablet, brush in hand.
"What will you write?" his cousin asked.
"This time, I write my own words." Xu Qian snatched the brush and fixed his gaze on the empty stone.
The face of this morning's breakfast stall vendor surfaced in his mind — grimacing in agony over lost money, yet not daring to demand payment. Pathetic as a stray dog.
The corruption of Great Feng's petty officials was an age-old disease. The court was full of righteous officials who spoke of loyalty and patriotism, yet never once cast a compassionate eye upon the common folk below.
He remembered Zhou Li's arrogance, riding his horse through the streets with brazen contempt. He recalled the records of nobles' sons running roughshod through the capital with impunity.
The existence of supernatural martial power only sharpened the blades of feudal oppression, while stripping even the courage of revolt from the lowest peasants.
In his previous life, at least there had been a few great peasant uprisings. In this world, the slightest spark of rebellion was snuffed out before it could even take shape.
Xu Qian drew a deep breath and exhaled heavily. He raised the brush and wrote:
*"To establish the heart of Heaven and Earth, to secure the destiny of the living people, to carry on the lost teachings of sages past, and to bring peace to all generations yet to come."*
When he finished, a profound clarity washed over him — the pent-up frustration purged at last. He tossed the brush aside and declared: "Cijiu, this is what a scholar should do."
*CRACK!*
In Xu Xinnian's mind, it was as though a bolt of thunder split the heavens, cleaving through the fog of his consciousness and shattering the chains upon his soul.
He stared at his cousin, dazed. Or was it his imagination — did he just catch a flash of deep purple qi flickering above Xu Qian's head before vanishing?
*CRAACK!*
The stone tablet beside them suddenly emitted a sound of splitting. A massive fissure, running from top to bottom, cracked across its face.
The brothers jumped. Before they could react, the entire Second Sage's Shrine began to tremble. Dust rained from the vaulted ceiling; candlesticks toppled.
From the Second Sage's statue, a surge of pure qi erupted skyward, piercing the white clouds atop the mountain. The anomaly was visible from dozens of li away.
Xu Qian's face went white. "What happened? I... I think we've caused trouble."
"Caused trouble? What trouble?" Xu Xinnian's voice was fevered, almost manic. "This has nothing to do with us. We were never here."
With that, he clutched his head and bolted for the door, fleeing for his life.
"Hey, scholar — wait for me!" Xu Qian took off after him, thinking: *In moments like these, the scholar's survival instincts are sharper than anyone's.*