The Qing Xuan Scholar

Within the Xishan territory, somewhere outside the cities, in a nearly desolate region. Just one or two more days of travel would lead one out of Xishan and into the borderlands between various Dynasties, which was where the Academy was located.

A young man, dressed in white silk robes of superior quality, carried a book satchel on his back. His skin was fair, lacking a healthy glow, and he appeared to be about seventeen years old. At first glance, he seemed like a scholar incapable of even tying a chicken.

The young man’s appearance was extraordinarily refined, and his figure was slender. In modern times, he would undoubtedly be a heartthrob capable of captivating all beings.

But in this chaotic era, those who relied on their looks to make a living, like this young man, were inferior even to a farmer. Fortunately, the young man was not someone who merely relied on his appearance; he was a scholar, though scholars were not highly valued in these times.

In an era of war, what earned the most respect was martial prowess.

With martial prowess, one could easily gain titles and achieve fame with a single battle. But relying on classical texts and imperial examinations was a lengthy and complicated process. Not to mention, no one currently recognized the importance of classical texts. Even if one achieved fame through scriptures, it would only be an empty reputation.

The young man carried an umbrella, holding it to shield himself from the sun as he walked slowly. Ahead of him lay a series of tents. Tents in this era came in two forms: one belonged to soldiers, and the other, without flags or any distinguishing marks, was surely a bandit encampment.

In times of war, it was best to stay safely within city walls; camping outside was akin to seeking death. The single word ‘chaos’ encapsulated the poor public order, where murder and robbery were commonplace. If not for the two types mentioned above, the last type would be those tired of living. But looking at the fearsome appearance of the people in those tents, they certainly did not belong to the third category.

*There’s no mistake,* the young man thought to himself. The bald man standing within the tent area, with a long scar running from his eye down to his chin, held a saber in his hand; he looked every bit like a bandit.

“Brat, come here if you don’t want to die!” The bald bandit said ferociously, his saber clanging.

The young man seemed utterly unafraid, walking with a calm expression. The bald bandit’s face flushed with anger, and a group of other bandits seemed simultaneously provoked; a menacing mob leaped onto their horses, chasing after the young man. Each held a saber or sword pointed at the young man.

“Are you planning to rob me?” The young man said calmly, as if in his eyes, the bandits were merely harmless passersby.

“You know we’re robbers, and you’re still not afraid?” The bald bandit saw the young man’s astute observation, but upon reflection, found it even more illogical. If he already knew they were bandits, shouldn’t he be pale, bloodless, crying out in fear, begging for mercy, and then offering money?

Something was amiss with common sense here.

“You’re not afraid?” Another bandit asked in astonishment, brandishing the sword in his hand.

“Why should I be afraid?” The young man looked at the long sword, which seemed to want to pierce his guts, with confusion.

The bandits looked at each other, speechless. *Is this guy crazy? Doesn’t he see that sword is less than a finger’s width away from plunging into his guts?*

“Not afraid?” The bandit asked again.

“No,” the young man shook his head.

“Why?” The bandit asked seriously. After all, as bandits, what made them most comfortable was seeing others display all their fear during a robbery.

“I’m just not afraid. You are merely people, and I am also a person. Why should I be afraid?” The young man explained with a smile, the book satchel on his back gently swaying.

“Haha, I know!” One bandit suddenly chuckled, making the other bandits curious.

“This brat, from childhood to adulthood, looks like he only knows how to read books, unaware of our fearsomeness,” the bandit snorted disdainfully.

“Let this brat know our fearsomeness!” The bandits said ferociously, their sabers and swords flashing with light, reflected in the young man’s eyes. The young man took it all in, strangely calm.

One bandit reached for the book satchel, laughing gleefully. He knew that for scholars, books were the most precious things, more valuable than gold or jewels, even more than their own lives.

The surrounding bandits watched the show, knowing that this bald bandit was best at teasing others, secretly thinking that in a moment, the brat before them would kneel and cry for mercy.

“I think you should let go,” Seeing that he was about to grasp the book satchel, the young man suddenly looked up at them and said indifferently.

The bald bandit suddenly felt as if struck by lightning, a chill running down his spine. He didn’t understand why he obeyed the young man so readily.

“Baldy, are you listening to that brat? Is he your father that you listen to everything he says?” The other bandits taunted.

The bald bandit’s face flushed with anger, his bald head instantly turning red. His hand reached out to the young man once more.

“Vast Righteous Qi, all evil shall not invade. Indomitable spirit, all armies shall retreat!” The young man spoke.

Suddenly, not only the bald bandit, but all the bandits, whether those surrounding the young man or those still in their tents, were suppressed by a heaven-shaking aura.

“Kneel!” The young man appeared like a Great Confucian Scholar incarnate, his mouth uttering words of law. A type of aura possessed by only a select few in the world, that was the Vast Righteous Qi, a different kind of energy from the Primordial Qi and Spiritual Qi of Daoist cultivators and martial practitioners.

The founder of the Confucian school was the Confucian Saint, on par with Martial Gods and Immortals.

Between the young man’s eyebrows was a purple qi, that was the Purple Qi from the East, a type of Saintly Qi, representing the aptitude of a Great Confucian Scholar of an era.

Compared to Daoist cultivators and martial practitioners, Confucian scholars were even rarer, requiring individuals with extremely high aptitude and a heart for all living beings under heaven. Those with evil thoughts could not gain the approval of Vast Righteous Qi. Among humanity’s dragons and phoenixes, only such individuals were worthy of becoming Confucian scholars.

Of course, not every Confucian scholar had the Purple Qi from the East protecting them. Only those with supreme aptitude and grand aspirations were recognized by Heaven. When Heaven recognized them, Purple Qi descended to bless them. In other words, a Confucian scholar possessing the Purple Qi from the East was a supreme genius within the Confucian school.

The terrified bandits knelt down, unable to disobey the young man’s command. They were utterly shocked; who was this young man before them, who could render them utterly incapable of resistance without even lifting a finger?

“Saints have compassion, and I too have compassion; I will not kill you,” the young man said softly.

“Thank you, Young Master, thank you, Young Master!” The bandits said, tears streaming down their faces. How could they not know that the person before them possessed noble status, not someone they could offend? Not killing them was a great kindness.

“But you will have to listen to my teachings, cleanse your evil thoughts, turn over a new leaf, and help the common people of the world,” the young man said with a gentle, relaxed smile.

The bandits appeared reverent on the surface, but scornful in their hearts. *Turn over a new leaf? Even if he can defeat us, kill us, how can he change our minds? This era is constantly at war; if we don’t become bandits, when will things ever get better?*

“Sit down!” The young man commanded. The bandits dared not disobey, dismounting their horses and carefully sitting in a long line, looking up at the young man.

The young man sat down, brushed the dust from his book satchel, and took out a book. The book was titled ‘Reclusive Scholar Bai Yun’s Collection of Poems’.

The young man opened the yellowed page and said softly:

“To uphold the Great Dao is the ninth lesson,
With ‘Loyalty’ and ‘Trust’ as its core.
A gentleman’s virtue is high,
Without arrogance, maintaining harmony throughout.
When needing to help others urgently,
Do not choose a day, do not count on fingers.
Those I help also rejoice,
For those in pain, I empathize with their bitterness.
To speak eloquently a thousand polished words,
Is not equal to a single deed performed.
To invite criticism from the world,
Is to bring upon oneself undeserved harm.
I help others with genuine generosity,
Contributing to trustworthy good deeds.
A hundred hearings are not worth one sight,
One practical action is worth a thousand empty words.
The affairs of heaven and earth often change,
Morning wind and rain, evening clear skies.
Just like a person’s life,
Morning and evening, fortune and misfortune ebb and flow.
Some matters are thus for me,
But for others, they are not the same.
When contradictory words are spoken,
Calamity will surely follow.
Ill-gotten gains brought in through the front door,
Will find a way to leave through the back.
Do not do pointless things,
Do not covet strange possessions, lest they trouble your heart later.
Do not overexert yourself,
Consider your strength and act accordingly,
Neither lazy nor greedy…”

Suddenly, from the moment the young man spoke, the surrounding plants seemed to come alive, swaying gently. They all leaned towards the young man seated at the center. From where the young man sat, the plants simultaneously grew taller at an extraordinary speed.

White clouds were blown away by a strong wind, and layers of golden clouds advanced to replace them. Then, the plants suddenly burst into full bloom, their fragrance filling the air.

“We have received immense grace from you, and have realized the meaning of life. You are truly a divine being walking the mortal realm!” Suddenly, strange phenomena occurred continuously. How could these bandits not know that the person before them possessed heaven-defying abilities? The young man’s words were like the simplest Great Dao, and the minds of the bandits, usually stained by slaughter, were suddenly cleansed, their realms loosening, on the verge of breakthrough.

“I am not a divine being; I am Qing Xuan, a humble scholar from Xishan,” the young man smiled. The Purple Qi from the East between his eyebrows disappeared, and the Vast Righteous Qi diminished almost to nothing. To create the phenomena, the young man had used these two types of Qi in resonance with the classical texts.

But to resonate into phenomena, classical texts were the primary conduit. If the classical texts were not profound, they could not induce such phenomena.

*Reclusive Scholar Bai Yun, this person is truly a Great Confucian Scholar of this era. I am still far inferior,* the young man thought to himself, putting the book back in his satchel.

At this moment, a large group of people approached; it was a cavalry troop in silver armor, with a ‘Xishan’ military banner flying above. Leading them were six young men in red robes with gold-embroidered hems, none other than Zheng Dong Lin and his group, who were on their way to the Academy.

“How interesting,” Qing Xuan Scholar looked at Zheng Dong Lin’s group.

“Look, that person!” Zheng Dong Lin also noticed the white-robed scholar looking back.