Legacy of the Blade

A middle-aged scholar with streaks of gray in his hair stood by a young boy dressed in green. They had just left Xiang Shu and were now at the base of the temple tower. This scholar, widely regarded as the most learned teacher in the small town, appeared somewhat weary. Pointing to a plaque above them, he asked, "How would you interpret the phrase 'Dang Ren Bu Rang' (When one shouldn't yield)?"

The boy, Zhao Yao, both a student and the teacher's assistant, looked up at the plaque. Without hesitation, he answered, "In Confucian teachings, we emphasize the concept of Ren (humaneness) as the foundation of education. The four characters on this plaque mean, 'In matters of humanity and morality, we should not yield.' It suggests that while respecting teachers and traditions is essential, when it comes to issues of moral principles, we cannot afford to be overly deferential."

The scholar, Mr. Qi, raised another question: "Not yield? What if we rephrased it as 'Cannot yield'? How would that change things?"

The young boy, whose simple appearance masked a strong and commanding presence, hesitated. While he had often impressed others with his wit, his demeanor now showed humility and caution. He knew that Mr. Qi's question wasn't idle chatter but a test of his understanding. Feeling the weight of the moment, Zhao Yao deliberated carefully, unwilling to give a careless response.

Seeing his student's tense demeanor, Mr. Qi chuckled and gave the boy a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "I was just asking casually. No need to be so anxious. It seems I've been too rigid in my teaching, treating you like a statue in the Hall of Literature—always frowning, adhering to rules, and debating endlessly. It's enough to tire anyone. But now that I see your cautious approach, it might not be a bad thing after all."

Though still confused by his teacher's musings, Zhao Yao followed him as they continued their walk. They paused under another plaque that read Mo Xiang Wai Qiu (Do Not Seek Outside). Mr. Qi gazed into the distance and remarked, "Your school in Xiang Shu will soon cease to exist. Without teachers, the local families will likely close it down. Perhaps they'll repurpose it as a roadside pavilion or a shrine for pilgrims. In such cases, a monk or a priest might manage it for years, perhaps even decades, maintaining appearances for the people. But beneath the surface, a large-scale ritual or supernatural act may be performed, the likes of which could rival divine spectacles."

By now, his voice had dropped to a murmur, barely audible even to Zhao Yao, who strained to catch his words.

Mr. Qi sighed deeply and said, "Many things are veiled secrets of heaven. Yet as scholars, we must maintain appearances and principles. After all, if I, Qi Jingchun, were to flout the rules, breaking them as I please, it would be no better than a lawmaker breaking their own laws."

Gathering his courage, Zhao Yao spoke earnestly, "Teacher, I know you're no ordinary person, and this town isn't ordinary either."

Intrigued, Mr. Qi asked with a smile, "Oh? What makes you think so?"

Zhao Yao pointed to the majestic temple ahead and said, "This place, along with the Iron Chain Well in Peach Blossom Lane, the old locust tree by Lang Bridge, the peach tree in Peach Leaf Lane, and the iron swords at Transmission Bridge, all seem unusual. Even the Spring Rain and Double Ninth Festival couplets pasted each year at my house in Fortune Street are strange."

Mr. Qi interrupted, "Strange? How so? You've lived here all your life and haven't seen much of the world. What makes you think these places are different?"

Zhao Yao replied solemnly, "I've memorized the books you've taught us. The peach blossoms in Peach Leaf Lane don't match the descriptions in poetry. And why do you only teach us the basics? After mastering the classics, what's next? What do we read, and for what purpose? And what about the civil exams described in the texts? What does it mean to 'rise from plowing fields in the morning to dine with the emperor in the evening'? Why do two successive overseers avoid discussing the court, the capital, or the empire?"

Mr. Qi smiled approvingly and said, "Enough. No need for more."

Zhao Yao immediately fell silent.

Mr. Qi, his tone softer now, said, "Zhao Yao, remember to be cautious with your words and actions. As Confucian scholars often say, 'Disaster comes from the mouth.' A gentleman speaks carefully, knowing when to remain silent. As for sages—like the seventy-two masters of the academies—they are akin to Daoist immortals or Buddhist arhats. Their words hold power, shaping reality. These individuals are as distant as deities in temples, high and unattainable. Common folk rarely glimpse them."

Though Zhao Yao struggled to fully grasp his teacher's words, he nodded.

Finally, he asked, "Teacher, why are you telling me all this today?"

Mr. Qi's expression turned solemn but kind. "I, too, have a teacher. And my teacher… well, that's a story for another day. Let's just say I thought I had more time, but it seems some forces behind the scenes are unwilling to wait. I cannot take you out of this town myself. You'll have to find your own way. I've shared a few truths with you, but treat them as mere stories for now. Just remember this: the world is vast, and there will always be someone stronger, wiser, or more fortunate than you. No matter how favored you feel by destiny, never become arrogant or complacent."