Chapter 407: The Visitor Bears Ill Intent

Chapter 407: The Visitor Bears Ill Intent

To go to the Great Sui capital's Confucian Temple and request a share of literary fortune—this touched upon the very foundation of Chen Ping'an's path of cultivation. Yet Mao Xiaodong did not rush him straight to the temple. Instead, he led Chen Ping'an along at a leisurely pace, merely chatting.

Along the way, Mao Xiaodong asked about the many sights and interesting tales Chen Ping'an had encountered during his travels. Chen Ping'an had journeyed far twice, but most of his time had been spent in deep mountains, vast forests, and along rivers and lakes, crossing peaks and fording streams. He had come across Confucian and Martial Temples not too many times. Casually, he spoke of that seemingly rough but actually talented friend, the great-bearded chivalrous wanderer Xu Yuanxia.

This man, who had left military service years ago, not only recorded the landscapes of various places but also meticulously painted the ancient wooden architecture of different nations. Mao Xiaodong remarked that this Knight Xu could very well serve as a nominal lecturer at the academy, giving lessons to the students on the grandeur of mountains and rivers and the gathering of human talent. The academy could even set aside a room specifically to hang his meticulous paintings.

Chen Ping'an promised Mao Xiaodong that he would send a letter to Xu Yuanxia, who had already returned to his homeland, inviting him to travel afar to Great Sui's Cliff Academy.

The largest Confucian Temple in Great Sui, with the highest ceremonial rank, was located in the northwestern part of the capital. Thus, the two set out from Eastern Flower Mountain and had to cross nearly half the city. During the journey, Mao Xiaodong treated Chen Ping'an to lunch at a small restaurant hidden deep in a narrow alley. Despite its location, the place was not lacking in customers—good wine needed no bush. The restaurant's homemade rice wine had a special touch.

Mao Xiaodong explained that each time the wine was brewed, the owner would not only carefully select the finest glutinous rice but also take his son out of the city to fetch water from Pine Wind Spring, sixty li from the capital. The father and son took turns carrying the water on shoulder poles, leaving at dawn and returning at dusk. That was how they brewed this rice wine that the capital's connoisseurs could not bear to put down.

When Chen Ping'an left the restaurant, he bought a large jar of rice wine. In a deserted alley, he carefully poured it into the Sword-Nurturing Gourd, which was nearly empty, and then stored the empty jar in his Close Quarter Item.

Inside the Close Quarter Item, "nothing was out of the ordinary."

Clothes and books, writing desk and offerings, pots and bowls, firewood knives and needles, herbs and flint—odds and ends.

Seeing Chen Ping'an store away the empty wine jar that wasn't even worth a few coppers, Mao Xiaodong reminded him, "Saving a little makes a lot, and sand grains pile up to form a tower—that's good. But don't be too nitpicky or too meticulous in every detail. Otherwise, either your nature will find it hard to remain clear and bright, or you'll exhaust your mind and energy. Though your physique may be strong, your spirit will be worn out."

Chen Ping'an smiled and said, "Noted."

Mao Xiaodong stroked his beard and laughed.

In truth, the one being overly meticulous was none other than him, Senior Brother Mao. But if he didn't do this—if he didn't put on a bit of a show of authority with Chen Ping'an—how else could he display the dignity of being a senior brother? His own master didn't spare him a single thought or nagging word, so Mao Xiaodong had to make up for it with his master's last disciple.

They walked for nearly another half hour until they reached the sacred place in the hearts of all scholars in Great Sui—the capital's Confucian Temple.

Confucian Temples were scattered across the Haoran world like stars strewn across the chessboard of the earth, like so many lamps of literary fortune illuminating the mortal realm.

Unless they were in extremely remote areas, even the smallest prefectures and counties were required by custom to build both Confucian and Martial Temples. Every prefect and county magistrate, upon taking office, had to visit the Confucian Temple to burn incense and pay respects to the sages, and then go to the Martial Temple to honor the heroic spirits.

Thus, even in the small town where Chen Ping'an grew up in Lizhu Cave Heaven—cut off from the world and later, after it shattered and fell, taking root in the territory of Great Li—the first major event was for the Great Li court to order the first county magistrate, Wu Yuan, to immediately prepare the sites for both temples.

Mao Xiaodong stood outside the Confucian Temple, and Chen Ping'an stood shoulder to shoulder with the old man.

Mao Xiaodong asked, "Earlier, you drank the rice wine; now you look at the Confucian Temple. Any insights gained?"

Chen Ping'an replied, "Brewing wine with fine glutinous rice leads to an endless stream of customers. This shows that the capital's common folk are not only well-fed and clothed but also have plenty of spare money. As for this Confucian Temple, I haven't seen anything yet."

Chen Ping'an had answered half correctly. Mao Xiaodong nodded, but this time he was not being deliberately cryptic. He pointed out:

"No movement at all over there. That means those fellows living inside the clay statues in Great Sui's Confucian Temple don't have much faith in your literary fortune, Chen Ping'an."

At this point, Mao Xiaodong added with some sarcasm, "Probably been too long since they've been smoked by incense—their eyesight's gone bad."

Mao Xiaodong continued, "When wandering scholars, sincere in heart, visit a Confucian Temple, if they are heavily endowed with literary fortune, the temple deities will sense it and quietly bestow a little extra fortune to enhance their literary talent as a gift. What the world calls 'a brilliant pen producing flowers' or 'heaven-sent essays,' where it seems ghosts and spirits aid the hand as the brush falls—that's the principle. But all the sages and deities in the Confucian Temple can do is add frosting to the cake. In the end, it still comes down to how deep the scholar's own effort is."

"Those willing to perform such small tricks are mostly incense-deified civil officials who became gods in their own country. In the capital Confucian Temples of various nations, the offerings to the Supreme Sage and the seventy-two accompanying Worthies are just clay statues. Of course, nothing is absolute. There are extremely rare exceptions. In the capital Confucian Temples of the nine great dynasties of the Haoran world, there is often a Great Sage sitting in one of them."

Hearing this, Chen Ping'an asked softly, "Nowadays, in the southern part of the Bao Ping Continent, they're saying Great Li is already the tenth great dynasty."

Mao Xiaodong laughed. "We'll talk about that after Great Li's new Five Sacred Mountains all appear. For now, only one—the northern sacred mountain, Piyun—can be considered legitimate. It's still too early."

Mao Xiaodong walked forward. "Come on. Let's go meet the sages of Great Sui's Confucian Temple, the backbone of the entire nation."

Chen Ping'an followed behind.

The Confucian Temple covered a vast area. Although many literati, poets, and devout pilgrims came here, it didn't feel crowded.

But when Chen Ping'an followed Mao Xiaodong to the main hall of the temple, he found that no one else was around.

It seemed the temple priest had received orders to temporarily forbid visitors and pilgrims from approaching this hall—the front hall dedicated to all under heaven and the rear hall housing the nation's sages.

The courtyard was silent, with ancient trees reaching to the sky.

An elderly scholar in wide sleeves and a tall hat, with a sword hanging at his waist, manifested in golden body from one of the clay statues in the rear hall, stepped over the threshold, and walked into the courtyard.

Mao Xiaodong and this famous forthright minister from Great Sui's history exchanged bows with clasped hands.

Before entering this courtyard, Mao Xiaodong had already told Chen Ping'an about several temple deities who were still "alive" in the capital's Confucian Temple—their life stories, literary lineages, and great achievements in their respective dynasties. He had mentioned them all.

The temple deity before them was named Yuan Gaofeng. He was one of the founding heroes of Great Sui, a Confucian general of remarkable military merit. He had abandoned his brush to join the army and followed the founding emperor of the Geyang Gao clan to conquer the empire on horseback. After dismounting, he served as Minister of Personnel and was granted the honorary title of Academician of the Martial Valor Hall. He worked tirelessly and achieved brilliant political results. After his death, he was given the posthumous honorific "Wenzheng" (Literary Rectitude). The Yuan clan was still the top noble family in Great Sui, producing talents in abundance. The current clan head had once served as Minister of Justice, resigning due to illness, and among his descendants were many outstanding figures who achieved success in officialdom, on the battlefield, and in scholarly pursuits.

Yuan Gaofeng himself was the first official in Great Sui's history to be personally awarded the posthumous title "Wenzheng" by an emperor.

Yuan Gaofeng asked, "May I ask what brings Master Mao to this place?"

Mao Xiaodong retorted, "Do you really need to ask?"

Yuan Gaofeng's expression remained unchanged. "I ask that Master Mao state his purpose plainly."

Mao Xiaodong spoke slowly, "I want to take a share of literary fortune from your Confucian Temple, and also borrow another share. Among your various ritual vessels and instruments, I roughly intend to temporarily take a zhu and a set of chime stones, along with one fu and one gui vessel each, two candlesticks—these are the shares that our Cliff Academy is entitled to—and also that blue-and-white large jar that you moved in from a local temple, which was commissioned by the censor Yan Qingguang. That's what I'm borrowing from your temple. Apart from the literary fortune contained within, the vessels themselves will, of course, be returned to you in full."

Yuan Gaofeng asked, "Why don't you just rob us, Mao Xiaodong?"

Truly a scholar turned general—straight to the point, no mincing words.

Mao Xiaodong laughed. "If I could rob you, I wouldn't be so polite."

Yuan Gaofeng sneered. "You know that, do you? From your opening remarks, with such a big mouth, one might think you, Mao Xiaodong, are already a Jade Purity realm sage of an academy."

Yuan Gaofeng then added, "But even Jade Purity might not be enough. You wouldn't succeed unless you could move the entire Eastern Flower Mountain here to the Confucian Temple. A difficult realm is one problem; moving the literary fortune of Eastern Flower Mountain with the divine power of an Immortal who can shift mountains is another difficulty—difficulty upon difficulty. Truly a test for you, Great Mountain Lord Mao."

Mao Xiaodong looked around and chuckled. "How could I move it? The mountain is bigger than the temple. Wouldn't a sudden smash over the temple reduce Great Sui's premier Confucian Temple to rubble?"

Yuan Gaofeng said sternly, "Mao Xiaodong, don't you peddle your merchant tricks here! If you want me, Yuan Gaofeng, to haggle with you, you may not care about your face, but I fear disgracing scholarly decorum! You know perfectly well what the Confucian Temple's bottom line is!"

Mao Xiaodong seemed completely unfazed.

But Chen Ping'an felt a mighty and majestic stream of vast righteous qi. Faintly, he saw streaks of multicolored light flowing, gathering and dispersing erratically, almost beginning to coalesce into something tangible.

The flow of true qi within Chen Ping'an's body grew sluggish. The Water Mansion within him, which nurtured the Water Seal lifebound object, involuntarily shut its gates tightly. The little green-clad boys inside, born from the essence of water fortune, trembled in fear.

Mao Xiaodong did nothing to stop Yuan Gaofeng's deliberate display. He let Chen Ping'an bear the pressure of this condensed literary fortune alone.

Mao Xiaodong extended his hand, pointing toward the main hall. "Let's go to the rear hall and talk in detail."

Yuan Gaofeng hesitated for a moment, then agreed.

Mao Xiaodong told Chen Ping'an to wander around the front hall but not to enter the rear hall.

As Mao Xiaodong and Yuan Gaofeng entered the rear hall, several more golden-bodied deities stepped out of their clay statues.

Chen Ping'an walked slowly through the solemn and dignified front hall. This was his first time stepping into the main hall of a national capital's Confucian Temple. On Tongye Continent, he had not followed the Yao clan to Mirage City in the Daquan Dynasty; otherwise, he would have seen it. Later, in the capital of Qingluan Kingdom, because of the prevailing debate between Buddhism and Daoism, he had no opportunity to tour. As for the capital of Nanyuan Kingdom in the Lotus Flower Blessed Land, there was no Confucian Temple with the seventy-two Worthies.

No matter how far he traveled or how closely he observed, there would always be one thing or another that he missed. It was impossible to truly see all the sights.

Time passed, and dusk approached. Chen Ping'an, alone, made almost no sound as he walked. He had already examined the statues in the front hall twice. Earlier, in the immortal book "Records of Mountains and Seas" and in various literati notebooks, travel essays, and writings from different nations, he had encountered more or less the life stories of these "Worthies" who accompanied the sacrifices in the temple. This was one of those aspects of the Haoran world's Confucianism that common folk found hard to understand: even the mountain lords of the seventy-two academies were accustomed to being called sages, so why were these great scholars, with such vast knowledge and great merits, only designated by orthodox Confucianism with the word "worthy"? After all, in the various academies, worthies were not rare, while gentlemen were much more scarce.

Mao Xiaodong returned from the rear hall. Chen Ping'an noticed that the old man's expression was not good.

Being inside the Confucian Temple, Chen Ping'an did not ask many questions.

After they walked out of the temple, Mao Xiaodong spoke up first: "Every last one of them is a stingy old cock—won't pluck a single feather. What a difficult conversation."

Chen Ping'an nodded.

Mao Xiaodong looked up at the sky. "We've had a proper tour in broad daylight. After dinner, when it gets dark, we'll go try our luck at a few other places where literary fortune gathers. This time, no dilly-dallying—quick strikes. We'll try to return to the academy before cockcrow. As for this Confucian Temple, we can't let them be so miserly. We'll come here once every day from now on."

The two crossed two main streets and found a restaurant nearby. While waiting for the food to be served, Mao Xiaodong informed Chen Ping'an via mind transmission: "The atmosphere in the Confucian Temple is off. I can understand Yuan Gaofeng being so unreasonable, but the other two Great Sui literary sages who showed up today to back him up have always been known in history for their gentle temperaments. They shouldn't be so stubborn."

Chen Ping'an poured two bowls of rice wine from the Sword-Nurturing Gourd and asked, "Could it be that Yuan Gaofeng is actually using this method to warn us? The deities of the capital's Confucian Temple must have long seen the undercurrents in Great Sui. But it's hard to choose sides—both sides are like flesh on the palm and back of the hand, involving the Gao clan's imperial fortune and literary fortune. They find it difficult to make a decision, so they just stand by and watch. Yet they don't want to see us blinded and ruin the literary lineage of Eastern Flower Academy. So they deliberately put on a black face and act against reason to make us cautious about the situation outside the temple?"

Mao Xiaodong was somewhat gratified. He smiled and said, "That's right."

Mao Xiaodong looked out the restaurant window and clicked his tongue. "I thought the other side would be more cautious—at least observe us bait dangling on the hook a bit longer. Maybe send some small fry to nibble at us when there are fewer people at night. But it hasn't even gotten dark yet, and we're not far from the temple, with crowded streets full of pedestrians, and they've already pulled out their trump card. Utterly ruthless. When did Great Sui's literati become so decisive in killing?"

Chen Ping'an slowly sipped his fragrant rice wine.

Mao Xiaodong asked with a smile, "Not nervous at all?"

Chen Ping'an set down his wine bowl. "To be honest, Master Mao, I've done my fair share of fighting and killing. I've seen a bit of the world."

Mao Xiaodong asked again, "How big a bit?"

Chen Ping'an thought for a moment and answered frankly, "I've fought an old flood dragon in the Dragon Roar Gully who guarded a small heaven. I've carried the sword of the Senior Sword Immortal of the Sword Qi Wall on my back. And I've taken a blow from the lifebound flying sword of a Flying Ascension realm cultivator."

Mao Xiaodong laughed heartily.

Chen Ping'an suppressed a smile and added a flattering remark: "And I've drunk wine at the same table as Master Mao."

Mao Xiaodong quickly picked up his large bowl. "Never mind the earlier bits. For this last one, we definitely have to have a big drink."

Chen Ping'an finished the wine in his bowl, then suddenly asked, "Can you sense roughly how many there are and their cultivation levels?"

Mao Xiaodong nodded. "Over the past few years, I've been seeming to wander around aimlessly with Little Baoping, but I've actually been working on something. I won't mention what it is yet. Anyway, within a thousand zhang of me, I know clearly about any cultivator below the Upper Five Realms and any pure martial artist below the Ninth Realm. These five assassins: one Ninth Realm Golden Core sword cultivator, one Military Dragon Gate realm cultivator, one Dragon Gate realm formation master, one Wandering realm martial artist, and one Golden Body realm martial artist."

Chen Ping'an said helplessly, "I might not be of much help."

Mao Xiaodong stood up with a smile, took the Day-Night Wandering Spirit True Form Talisman out of his sleeve, and handed it back to Chen Ping'an, who also rose. He said via mind transmission, "What kind of senior brother would waste his junior's belongings? Put it away."

Chen Ping'an hesitated.

Mao Xiaodong laughed. "What, you think the enemy's momentum is too fierce and I, Mao Xiaodong, am too arrogant? Did you forget what I said earlier? As long as no Jade Purity realm cultivator is backing them up, I can handle it."

Chen Ping'an frowned. "What if there is?"

Mao Xiaodong smiled. "Then I'd be even more relieved. If they show up here and can't kill me, it proves there are no hidden moves or killing blows prepared back at the academy."

Seeing that Mao Xiaodong showed no sign of attacking yet, Chen Ping'an silently poured another bowl of wine.

Mao Xiaodong asked curiously, "What are you doing?"

Chen Ping'an lowered his head and drank the wine in big gulps. "Learning from Zhu Lian. Drinking as punishment."

Mao Xiaodong laughed and cursed. "You little rascal! You're eagerly waiting for a Jade Purity realm cultivator to show up here, aren't you?!"

Chen Ping'an smiled faintly.

Mao Xiaodong glanced at the jade hairpin, but said nothing.