Everyone turned toward the voice. The speaker was a tall youth, not bad-looking save for a pair of eyes that radiated unmistakable ferocity. He looked like trouble.
His gaze was fixed on a cowering figure — a thin, shivering boy who seemed to shrink under the collective stare.
One glance was enough for the crowd to understand why the tall youth had singled him out.
The boy was only at the Cycle realm — the eighth rank!
Everyone present had crossed the threshold of the Heaven-Piercing realm to be here. They were either scions of great noble houses or prodigies who had clawed their way through fierce competition to seize a spot from the heroes gathered across Tainfu City.
And this boy? Not only was his cultivation unremarkable, but he had no elder accompanying him — clearly not from any distinguished lineage. To make matters worse, he was trembling and timorous, radiating weakness that invited contempt.
"The one asking is Gao Jing, of the Jinghai Gao clan," Chong Xuan Sheng whispered to Jiang Chen. "That Zhang fellow — I don't know him."
Jiang Chen studied the youth called Gao Jing. To be remembered specifically by Chong Xuan Sheng meant he was no ordinary fighter.
Beside Gao Jing stood another silent youth, indicating the Gao clan had secured two exploration slots for this Celestial Secret Realm. Such was the depth of the Jinghai Gao — nearly rivaling the Chong Xuan clan.
The Chong Xuan clan, foremost among the great houses of Qi, held a full three slots. As one of the next generation of core members Chong Xuan was personally grooming, the exploration team was built around him, and his opinion carried decisive weight. That was how he had managed to spare a slot for Jiang Chen.
The other person besides Jiang Chen was a deathsworn who had served at Chong Xuan Sheng's side since childhood. The deathsworn was nameless, called Fourteen.
He wore full armor, his face hidden behind a visor, and stood behind Chong Xuan Sheng without uttering a single word.
But the mere fact that he was permitted to stand there spoke volumes about the trust Chong Xuan Sheng placed in him.
The atmosphere on the field was tense.
Everyone's eyes were on the Zhang youth, waiting for him to humiliate himself.
Noble heirs refused to stand alongside nameless unknowns, and those who had fought hard for their slots resented his unearned privilege even more.
The boy hung his head and stammered, "I am... I am... of the Fengxian Zhang clan."
"What? Who are you? What Zhang?" Gao Jing was clearly intent on humiliating him. "You can't even speak properly, and you dare covet the Celestial Secret Realm? Did you buy your slot with silver?"
"No!" The Zhang youth jerked his head up, revealing a young, unlined face. "I am Zhang Yong."
"...This slot was passed down from my ancestors."
Even in his anger, he didn't dare match Gao Jing's aggression.
Then, from outside the crowd, a resonant voice rose and swept in:
*"In bed they cling, and riches long endure;* *They give their lives, yet generals go obscure!* *All under heaven praise the Shimen Li —* *But who remembers Fengxian Zhang, what they were for?"*
Silence fell over the assembly.
Gao Jing's face drained of color!
Because everyone under heaven knew: the rise of the Jinghai Gao had come only after the seductive Consort Jing had won the Emperor's favor.
Both words used "die" — one "died" in bed, the other died on the battlefield.
Yet one left behind enduring wealth and glory, while the other's name faded from memory.
This undisguised satire was a direct assault on the Gao family's honor.
Not only Gao Jing himself, but the Gao elder who had accompanied him was consumed with fury. He was about to identify the speaker and settle the matter in blood when the voice's owner appeared.
Three people walked through the gap in the crowd.
Though only three, they moved with a momentum that felt like an army.
On the far left walked a Confucian-robed man with a strikingly tall forehead. He spoke as he walked: "In the past, when the Jiang clan lost their kingdom and the imperial heir fled in exile, it was the Li and Zhang clans who joined forces to support Jiang Wujiu's restoration. First, the Zhang ancestor fought nine battles and retreated nine times, dying of exhaustion. Then the Li ancestor fired ten arrows that shattered a mighty city and broke the rebel army. Only then did Jiang Wujiu reclaim his throne!
Now the heroes' bones have crumbled and the great houses have declined. Everyone speaks of the Shimen Li's heroes — but who still remembers the Fengxian Zhang, who fought nine battles and nine retreats, whose armor was soaked in blood, to keep Jiang Wujiu safe?"
This was none other than Xu Xiangqian — the same man Jiang Chen had encountered in the You Kingdom. They had not expected to meet again here.
Everyone fell silent.
The great houses had declined, and the heroic deeds of old were being swept away by wind and rain.
With the Fengxian Zhang clan's former prestige, they should have held far more than a single slot in the Celestial Secret Realm. But generations of decline had whittled it down to just one.
And even that one slot was held by a lone Cycle-realm youth who had come entirely unaccompanied — not even an elder to watch over him.
The Zhang clan's decline was plain for all to see.
But could the descendants of heroes be insulted without cause?
The field was silent, save for Zhang Yong weeping silently.
Gao Jing shifted his attention and said through clenched teeth, "Did you write that poem?"
At that moment, Chong Xuan Sheng leaned close to Jiang Chen and murmured, "That man should be an outside helper invited by the Shimen Li. The one beside him is Li Longchuan — our second-biggest rival! Li Longchuan's uncle, Li Zhengshu, has also come. He's a renowned scholar of the Qingya Academy."
The Shimen Li truly deserved their reputation as a great clan.
The Qingya Academy was universally recognized as one of the Four Great Confucian Academies in the world.
In one hand they held Qi's mightiest noble house, and in the other, the academies of the realm.
No wonder even the arrogant Jinghai Gao treated a stranger like Xu Xiangqian with caution.
To everyone's surprise, it was Xu Xiangqian who grew angry: "I, Xu Xiangqian, am confident in my own poetic talent and would never steal another's glory! This poem was composed by my teacher, moved by genuine feeling. It was simply too fitting — I couldn't help but recite it once."
"Then who is your teacher?" the Gao elder demanded, his voice heavy with the intent to pursue retribution.
Li Zhengshu was a tall, distinguished man in middle years, his temples touched with frost but his bearing radiating charm.
At this question, he smiled gently: "Xiangqian is the disciple of my close friend Mo Ya. He came to the Celestial Secret Realm and entrusted him to my care. I trust Brother Gao will be understanding."
Though his words requested leniency, the phrases "close friend" and "entrusted to my care" made it unmistakably clear that he was standing up for Xu Xiangqian.
And the great Confucian scholar Mo Ya of Qingya Academy was famous for his swift gratitude and vengeance. Writing poems to mock or even excoriate people was nothing unusual for him. The day he stopped insulting people would be the day to be surprised.
The Gao elder's face cycled through green and white. In the end, he could only fling his sleeve in frustration: "Since he is a junior, Brother Li should keep better watch over him!"
The poem Xu Xiangqian had recited was aimed squarely at the Jinghai Gao's face.
But they could neither afford to offend the Shimen Li, nor the Qingya Academy. They had no choice but to swallow their rage.
However, while the Jinghai Gao was ready to let the matter drop, Xu Xiangqian showed no signs of stopping.
"Speaking of confidence in my own talent — I too was moved to compose!" Xu Xiangqian cleared his throat, apparently about to compose a poem on the spot.
"What are you thinking? When are you ever moved?" Li Zhengshu smiled and patted Xu Xiangqian's shoulder.
He pressed the mountain of poetic talent right back down into Xu Xiangqian's belly.
Though the Shimen Li feared neither the Jinghai Gao, there was no need to make enemies of them to the death.
"Fine, fine, fine, I'm not." Xu Xiangqian feared nothing in the world — except these damned Confucian scholars.
He was already a grown man, yet they would slap his palm without hesitation. Where was one supposed to reason with that?
And he couldn't out-argue them anyway.
He hung his head in dejection, eyes darting about, when suddenly they lit up: "Hey! Brother Jiang!"
...
...
*Author's Note: Reflections on History (No. 3)* *— Mo Ya, after drinking* *In bed they cling, and riches long endure;* *They give their lives, yet generals go obscure!* *All under heaven praise the Shimen Li —* *But who remembers Fengxian Zhang, what they were for?*