Chapter Forty-One: Seeking Wisdom at Jixia, the Headmaster Named Jiang

Leaving the Buddhist lands of the Western Desert, the next stop for Jiang Xiuyuan and his companions was Jixia, a place renowned for its flourishing literary culture.

The Jixia Academy was less a traditional sect and more a colossal academic city standing upon a vast plain. It had no high walls or defensive arrays; its motto, "Education without discrimination, embracing all like the sea," drew Confucian scholars from the entire Eastern Territory and beyond. The architecture here was simple and elegant. Between the flying eaves and bracket sets, the air was not filled with pure spiritual energy, but with a unique aura—a blend of the scent of parchment and ink, the fervor of passionate debates, and unwavering conviction: the aura of Haoran Zhengqi, or "Noble Rectitude."

Jiang Xiuyuan and his two companions walked slowly along the academy's broad main thoroughfare paved with bluestone. Jiang Yiyi was at the age of peak curiosity; her bright eyes darted everywhere, observing the students in their Confucian robes, their calm, measured gaits, and the gentle yet upright temperament they exuded. Everything felt remarkably novel to her.

Walking beside her was Jiang Xiaobai. Dressed in crisp, sharp attire, she possessed a stunning beauty, yet her temperament was like an unsheathed sword—sharp and piercing. Her long, snow-white hair was tied high. As she walked, the long sword at her waist occasionally brushed against its scabbard, producing a crisp, metallic chime.

Before they had set out, Jiang Xiaobai had already been somewhat obsessed with the way of the sword. After witnessing the genius disciple at Heavenly Sword Mountain reshape his "Sword Heart," her obsession had deepened into a feverish intensity. Though she was now in the scholarly atmosphere of Jixia, her gaze never strayed far from the sword-bearing Confucian scholars. In her eyes, the swords carried by these scholars were not instruments of slaughter, but rather ceremonial objects—symbols of spirit—which left her both puzzled and fascinated.

"Father, the aura of the cultivators here is very strange," Jiang Xiaobai said via telepathy. "Their internal spiritual energy is heterogeneous, and their cultivation levels are generally low, yet their mental will is exceptionally concentrated, as if each of them hides an undying flame within their hearts."

Jiang Xiuyuan walked with his hands behind his back. Clad in a plain robe, his presence was so restrained that he appeared to be nothing more than an ordinary, elderly scholar. He smiled and replied, "Xiaobai, what you see is the 'Literary Heart.' Confucian cultivators do not focus solely on spiritual energy. They read the classics of the sages, understand the nature of things, distinguish good from evil, and cultivate the Haoran Zhengqi within their chests. This rectitude can ward off inner demons and provide stability to the nation; when condensed to its peak, it forms the 'Literary Heart.' Once the Literary Heart is formed, their words carry the weight of law, and every syllable is a gem of wisdom. It is also a path that leads to the heavens."

"Using literature to carry the Dao..." Jiang Xiaobai mused, her fingers loosening slightly on the hilt of her sword.

They passed through a massive archway inscribed with four characters in a bold, sweeping calligraphy: "There is no limit to learning." Behind the archway lay the outer court of the academy, where countless lecture halls were scattered like stars. The sounds of fervent reading and heated debate rose and fell in waves.

"...Therefore, the gentleman must 'revere the mandate of heaven, revere the great men, and revere the words of the sages.' The cycle of the Heavenly Dao has its own logic. We cultivators must act in accordance with the heavens; we must not presume to guess its intentions, let alone attempt to interfere with the operation of the Heavenly Dao through human effort. This would be a grave act of disrespect!" The voice of an old master, resonant as a bell, drifted out from a lecture hall named "Hall of Reverence."

Jiang Xiuyuan paused for a moment, his divine sense sweeping gently across the academy to gain a general understanding of its curriculum. He discovered that ninety percent of the learning here was concentrated on classical ethics and interpretations found in works like the *Spring and Autumn Annals*, the *Book of Rites*, and the *Commentaries on the Way*. The aim was to teach students how to cultivate themselves, regulate their families, govern the state, and comprehend the heart of heaven to become noble, virtuous gentlemen.

However, the study of the fundamental substances of the world—the laws governing wind, rain, thunder, lightning, the stars, and the internal logic of all living things—a field collectively dismissed as "the study of things" (Gewu)—was relegated to the category of "frivolous crafts" and left in the cold. There was only one lecture hall dedicated to this subject, located in the most remote corner of the outer court, and it was virtually deserted.

"Father, they don't seem to care much about the land beneath our feet or the stars above our heads," Jiang Yiyi asked, tilting her head in confusion.

"Because of the unknown, there is fear. Because of fear, they stop," Jiang Xiuyuan explained gently. "They believe that exploring such things is focusing on the trivial while neglecting the essential, and that it would shake their faith in the 'Heavenly Dao.' But they have forgotten that the sages themselves once said: 'Investigate things, extend knowledge, make intentions sincere, and rectify the heart.' If one does not investigate things, how can one extend knowledge?"

He had already made up his mind. Jixia Academy was a good place; its profound intellectual atmosphere was the perfect soil to sow the seeds of science and critical thinking. He had no desire to overthrow the existing orthodoxy; he merely wished to graft a new branch onto this towering tree.

Half a day later, at the administration office of the outer court.

An old deacon with a goat-like beard was dozing off. On the table before him sat a wooden sign for "Lecturer Recruitment," listing various positions such as classical studies, political strategy, painting, and music. Only the entries for "Gewu Studies" and "General History" had been circled in red ink with the annotation "Urgent Need."

A gentle voice rang in his ear: "Excuse me, is this where one applies for a lecturing position?"

The old deacon opened his sleepy eyes to see a scholarly man with elegant bearing and hair like frost, though his face did not appear old. He lazily pointed at the sign: "Read it yourself. Which one do you wish to apply for?"

"I am Jiang Shanzhang, and I wish to apply for the positions of lecturer in 'Gewu Studies' and 'General History,'" Jiang Xiuyuan said with a smile.

"Hmm?" The old deacon perked up, looking Jiang Xiuyuan over carefully. "Are you sure? These two subjects are dry and dull. They neither improve one's cultivation nor help in passing the imperial examinations. The students have no interest in attending, and the salary is the lowest."

"Shanzhang does not seek fame or profit; I seek only to impart the Way and resolve doubts," Jiang Xiuyuan said calmly.

"Fine spirit!" The old deacon became interested. "However, not just anyone can be a lecturer at Jixia. According to the rules, you must give a short lecture on the spot. If I deem it acceptable, you pass."

"Very well."

The old deacon cleared his throat and assumed the posture of an examiner: "Let us start with 'General History.' Tell me, what is history?"

Jiang Xiuyuan pondered for a moment before speaking slowly: "When people read history, they often see only the rise and fall of kings and ministers, or the changing of dynasties. But in my view, history is also a series of games and compromises between man and heaven, man and earth, and man and man over the long passage of time. It is climate change that dictates the migration of civilizations; it is the emergence of iron smelting that upends the bronze dynasties; it is an insignificant plague that buries a glorious empire..."

He did not mention a single specific historical event, yet from an unprecedentedly grand perspective, he articulated the decisive roles of climate, technology, geography, and disease in the historical process. In just a few words, he constructed a magnificent and vivid view of historical time and space.

The old deacon listened, dumbfounded. He had never heard such a novel historical theory. He felt as if he were no longer in a small administrative office, but looking across the long, ancient river of time.

"...As for Gewu," Jiang Xiuyuan shifted the topic, pointing to the teacup on the table, "does the master know why the water in this cup is always level when still? Why can this wooden table float on water, while the inkstone upon it sinks?"

The old deacon replied subconsciously, "It is the way of the Heavenly Dao; such is the nature of all things."

"Indeed, it is the way of the Heavenly Dao. Gewu is the pursuit of the 'reason why' behind this 'way of nature,'" Jiang Xiuyuan smiled. "If we understand the reason why, we could build steel ships that do not sink and create flying kites that reach the nine heavens. This is not a 'frivolous craft,' but an act of conforming to the Heavenly Dao, harnessing it for our use. This is the true work of 'extending knowledge'."

When he finished, the old deacon was completely stunned. He looked at Jiang Xiuyuan with eyes full of shock and admiration. He stood up abruptly and bowed deeply to Jiang Xiuyuan: "Sir, you have great talent! This old man has been enlightened! This position belongs to no one but you! You may begin your lectures at the 'Gewu Hall' tomorrow!"

And so, Jiang Xiuyuan, under the alias Jiang Shanzhang, used his profound knowledge spanning two civilizations to effortlessly become a neglected lecturer at the Jixia Academy's outer court.

He took Jiang Yiyi and Jiang Xiaobai to settle into a quiet courtyard near the academy. Jiang Xiaobai practiced her swordplay daily, while Jiang Yiyi was filled with anticipation for the academy life about to begin.

Standing by the window, Jiang Xiuyuan gazed at the brilliantly lit Jixia Academy in the distance, a faint smile curling at the corners of his lips.