Chapter 197: Writing the Human Canon
Chapter 197: Chapter 197: Writing the Human Canon
"Gongyang Confucian..." Li Qingquan’s breathing grew ragged.
He took a step forward and bowed deeply to Yu the Scholar. When he raised his head again, his eyes were full of fervor.
"Mr. Yu, I have studied the Confucian Dao for over thirty years, yet I have long been stuck at the Cultivation Realm."
"I once heard that in ancient times, the Confucian Dao possessed a Slaughter Technique—not just the enhancement of Literary Energy or a war of words, but a fierce and mighty path that uses ’righteousness’ as its blade and ’vengeance’ as its edge."
"Hearing you utter those two words, ’Gongyang Confucian,’ set my heart pounding. I implore you, sir, please do not withhold your teachings."
Li Qingquan’s expression was fervent.
Yu the Scholar glanced at Zhu Ge, who gave a slight nod.
This Li Qingquan had previously given his all, fighting with passion, and showed none of the nasty habits Zhu Ge associated with the Confucian Family.
Therefore, he could be trusted.
"There is no need for such ceremony." Yu the Scholar made a gesture as if to help him up. "The path of the Gongyang Confucian is something I also learned from Palace Master Zhu. Today is a good opportunity to discuss it as we walk."
The column continued eastward, a long dragon of six thousand people snaking along the main road. The sounds of footsteps, wagon wheels, and the occasional whinny of a horse mingled together.
To prevent their pace from slowing too much, Yu the Scholar moved among the Confucian Scholars and began to explain the path of the Gongyang Confucian.
"The core of the Gongyang Confucian school can be summed up in a single sentence."
Yu the Scholar’s voice was not loud, yet it carried clearly to the ears of those around him. "Vengeance can be sought even after ten generations; indeed, even after a hundred."
Li Qingquan shuddered, and the expressions of the other Confucian Scholars all changed.
Nearby, the members of the Mo Family, Martial Dao practitioners, and others all pricked up their ears to listen.
’Such teachings are not to be shared lightly!’
But with Zhu Ge, it seemed the boundaries between people disappeared.
’A core teaching from the Confucian academies—and they were being allowed to listen in?’
Everyone focused their full attention, afraid they might miss a single word.
After all, anyone could study multiple paths.
Another method to fight one’s enemies meant another sliver of hope for survival.
At that moment, Yu the Scholar was slowly explaining in a clear voice:
"The Confucian Dao’s self-cultivation is not just about cultivating your own virtue; it is about cultivating the backbone of the Human Race. If you are bullied, you must fight back. If your people are killed, you must take revenge."
"If Demon Beasts slaughter our village, we must slaughter them in return! This isn’t holding a grudge—this is heavenly principle!"
"Heavenly principle..." Li Qingquan’s hands trembled slightly. The eyes of several Confucian Scholars behind him turned red, and their fists clenched so tightly their knuckles cracked.
"Mr. Yu, all that you’ve said... why have I never read of it in any of the scrolls?" Li Qingquan’s voice was a little hoarse.
"Your Palace Master Zhu has a saying." Yu the Scholar pointed to Zhu Ge. "Believe not in authority, believe not in books; believe only in what is real."
"Does it matter if it’s in the books? Does it matter if the sages spoke of it? No, it doesn’t."
"If a book told you to kill your wife and children, if a sage told you to betray your benefactor, would you obey?"
Yu the Scholar shook his head. "In the primordial beginning, who was there to pass down the Dao?"
"The world began without classics or doctrines. The paths of every school were written by people. As long as we are willing to listen and act, that becomes the principle."
"These are all your Palace Master Zhu’s ideas."
As he spoke, Yu the Scholar turned back to look at Zhu Ge and smiled. "Ah, Palace Master Zhu, you have quite the philosophy on the Confucian Dao. Why not do as I have and write a book? Try to consolidate your ideas and break through to the Second Realm, or perhaps even the Third Realm in the future?"
The Confucian Scholars and Martial Artists all turned their heads in unison to look at Zhu Ge.
The column’s pace even slowed slightly.
Hearing Yu the Scholar’s words, Zhu Ge was also stunned for a moment.
’Why not write a book?’
’That’s right!’
Yu the Scholar had told him before that both reading and writing books could help him generate Literary Energy.
’How could I have forgotten?’
"That makes sense." Zhu Ge nodded slightly. "I can give it a try."
Of course, he wasn’t going to just copy everything from his past life.
Adapting to local conditions was crucial.
’But how should I begin?’
’Notes from the Six Paths Palace? Or maybe New Ideas on the Confucian Dao?’
’No, neither of those sounds right.’
Just then, Yu the Scholar brought over paper and a brush.
"You have a storage-type Spiritual Artifact, so this should be enough for you to write with for now."
’I’m really doing this?’
Taking the paper and brush, Zhu Ge fell into deep thought.
But in an instant, he made his decision... He would write!
’Why not?’
’What if writing really does lead to an improvement?’
If nothing else, he did have a faint wisp of Literary Energy inside him.
It was minuscule, but it was still Literary Energy—proof that he had reached the Confucian Dao First Realm.
Under Liu Jianjian’s command, the column continued its march.
Zhu Ge sat on Mazhu’s back, supporting a sheet of paper with one hand and holding the brush in the other, his gaze fixed on the distance.
The column moved slowly along the main road, the wheels of the wagons creaking as they rolled over loose stones.
The Soldiers’ footsteps were rhythmic and powerful, like a low, steady war chant.
’What should I write?’
Countless thoughts flashed through his mind.
The philosophy, history, and literature of his past life; the sights, sounds, thoughts, and feelings of this one; the Confucian Dao that Yu the Scholar spoke of; and the things he himself had come to understand on the brink of life and death.
’Believe not in authority, believe not in books; believe only in what is real?’
’No.’
’The Four Sentences of Hengqu?’
’That’s not the Confucianism I envision.’
’The world belongs to all?’
’Not profound or down-to-earth enough.’
Zhu Ge thought and thought, and finally wrote down a single word.
"Human."
He recalled what he had said while teaching in Jianshan Village.
The very concept of ’Confucian’ was built on a ’person’ and their ’needs’.
Thus, Confucianism is what people need.
Human.
One stroke reaching out, another for support.
It was just a simple word, yet it was like a stone tossed into a calm lake, sending ripples spreading through Zhu Ge’s heart.
The wisp of Literary Energy within him suddenly pulsed.
Slightly startled, Zhu Ge continued to write.
"Humans are the spirit of all creation."
"All other things are born without Spiritual Wisdom. That is why the First Realm is called the Spirit Realm; one must awaken their Spiritual Wisdom to proceed with further cultivation."
"Humans do not."
"This is the principle by which the Human Race stands as the strongest race in the world."
"Yet the world is in chaos, other races run rampant, and the Human Race is in decline, with not even one in ten surviving. How did it come to this? It is not a natural disaster, nor is it the strength of other races. It is because humans have weakened themselves."
"The strong monopolize Cultivation Techniques, the wise hide their knowledge, the rich hoard resources, and the poor have no land on which to stand."
"The great clans and powerful families control everything. A student from a humble family who wishes to learn finds no door open to them. One who wishes to practice martial arts can find no technique. One who wishes to serve their nation can find no path."
"Thus, the talented are buried in the fields, the ambitious are trapped in their hovels, and the passionate are worn down by time. The reason Demons, Ghosts, Spirits, and Monsters dare to bully the Human Race is not because they are strong, but because we are weak. And we are not weak because we lack strength, but because we are scattered."
"A tray of scattered sand—how can it hope to withstand a raging tide...?"
As Zhu Ge wrote, he was also slowly organizing his own logic.
This wasn’t a book; it was a rough draft.
What he wanted to write about was ’Human’.
This classic work should be called ’The Human Canon’.
And yet, even though it was just a draft, it caused the faint wisp of Literary Energy in his body to surge, becoming more active than before and slowly growing stronger.
This delighted Zhu Ge, and he continued to write.
"The needs of a human can be listed as follows..."