Chapter 47: Encountering the Red Tag Once More!

Page 1/3

The moment Zhao Huaichun heard this, he chuckled slyly—crafty to the extreme, nearly on par with Qin Santai. Then he said, “You fool, you even know to curry favor with Master Chu? Fine, if you want to know, then recite a passage from the Great Compendium of Materia Medica first!”

“I spit on that! Do you really think I’m an idiot? You expect me to trade the compendium so easily?”

“Then get lost! Go, go, go—this old man needs rest!”

Without a word, Zhao Huaichun began shooing him away. This was no servant coming to work; it was clearly a scoundrel come to cause trouble at the prince’s mansion.

Xue Yuan sighed helplessly, thinking that he had to offer something before Zhao would speak. But where could he get someone to recite from the Great Compendium of Materia Medica now?

Then he noticed the two bookboys of about twelve or thirteen years old by Zhao’s side, both looking unwell. Immediately, he checked one of their status entries.

One look and the truth became clear.

Pointing at the boy, he said, “I won’t make you recite the compendium, but this bookboy is injured by the ‘Hundred Wounds Fist.’ This style mainly damages the blood vessels. Now, his blood vessels are blocked; you must massage his meridians daily to keep him alive, right?”

Zhao’s eyes widened in astonishment. “How did you figure that out?”

The injury from the Hundred Wounds Fist was vicious and difficult to heal—almost no one in the martial world could treat it. Zhao had taken in the boy out of pity and to challenge this injury, keeping him close for gradual treatment.

But he himself had no cure, only daily using true qi to clear the blood vessels and feeding the boy his own medicinal pills to relax muscles and activate blood circulation, recording changes and adjusting the formula.

Xue Yuan replied calmly, “His complexion, his breath, the red spots on his neck—all perfectly match the description in the Great Compendium. How could I not know?”

Zhao Huaichun was overjoyed and quickly asked, “Do you know how to treat it?”

“Of course!” Xue Yuan rolled his eyes, pretending to think, then said, “You only need to decoct safflower, white peony root, and bai xingcao in a ratio of one to two to three for half an hour, then add the most common blood-activating pill and administer once daily for seven days. After each dose, use true qi to aid circulation. After seven days, it should heal.”

Zhao Huaichun spat in disdain. “Nonsense! Are you sure you got the recipe right? Safflower stops bleeding by coagulating blood. His vessels are blocked—using it would only make things worse!”

Xue Yuan didn’t know safflower’s exact effect but trusted the entry and retorted, “You old fool, your medicine skills aren’t good, yet you doubt me? Think again—safflower is used very cleverly here!”

“I’ll curse your mother’s leg! Wait—what?” Zhao suddenly stopped cursing and began furiously pressing his fingers while muttering.

“Safflower stops bleeding… coagulating blood blocks vessels. White peony root is strong medicine that opens vessels and resolves stasis… Wait, white peony is too strong to use recklessly, so safflower is used to counterbalance it. As for bai xingcao…”

Suddenly he slapped his thigh and exclaimed, “Brilliant! Brilliant! I’ve got it—I finally got it!”

Zhao Huaichun went wild, dancing and laughing uncontrollably.

How could he not be delighted?

By his reckoning, it would take at least three more years to refine the perfect formula to cure this boy completely. In truth, no one is born a divine physician—only through careful experimentation, constant reflection, and accumulation over time.

This process is painstaking, but once successful, it removes a suffering from the world and the great righteous energy of Heaven and Earth enters the body, helping one to ascend.

This is the way of cultivation through medicine and Confucianism.

But now, because Xue Yuan revealed the ultimate formula, Zhao had a sudden enlightenment.

That is to say, the mighty righteous energy had already flooded his body as he grasped the formula’s brilliance.

He had advanced!

If he could create the world’s first remedy for the Hundred Wounds Fist and cure this boy, he would ascend once more.

Yet Zhao’s madness was not for his own advancement, but because he had found another way to alleviate human suffering.

He had long since transcended selfish ambition.

He pursued the original intent of “establishing destiny for the people.”

By forgetting personal boundaries, he might leap over the long cultivation process and one day become a great Confucian master overnight.

In other words, the world knows it’s possible to become a great master overnight, but few realize that behind this is the forging of a heart that sacrifices self for all living beings.

From this perspective, it’s no wonder great Confucian masters are so rare.

Regardless of whether Zhao cared, he had undeniably taken another step closer to becoming such a master.

Unable to contain his excitement, Zhao bowed deeply to Xue Yuan.

“On behalf of all living beings, I thank Your Highness! You have taken one more step toward establishing the people’s shrine of life.”

Such a grand gesture left Qin Santai dumbfounded.

He never expected this once aloof Grand Master of Daqian to be so utterly won over by their prince.

Nor did he expect the prince to truly see injuries even the Grand Master could not.

At that moment, Qin’s look toward Xue Yuan was not only full of admiration but deep fear.

“Your Highness... truly a dragon among men!”

Page 2/3

At that moment, Zhao Huaichun eagerly dragged the other bookboy over.

“Come, come, Your Highness, please examine this good child. Does the Great Compendium say anything about his condition?”

Xue Yuan snapped, “You old fool, haven’t I yet told you what I promised?”

Only then did Zhao remember and smiled broadly.

“Alright, alright! That Chu Yanxiu fellow—everyone knows he loves music, but what few know is that his greatest obsession is reconstructing the sage’s words!”

“Reconstructing the sage’s words?” Xue Yuan frowned.

“Yes! Long ago, the sages wrote the Six Classics, and their disciples compiled the Analects. But five thousand years ago, when the ancients discovered these texts in the Sacred Ruins, they were already fragmentary, eroded by sun and moon, missing characters and pages.

Throughout history, countless great scholars tried to fill in the missing parts, but few succeeded. To date, only about three passages have been fully restored, totaling barely over two hundred characters.

Chu Yanxiu, enlightened by the ‘Great Meaning of the Confucian Classics’ written by sages three thousand years ago, finally completed thirty-two characters and thus ascended to the realm of great master.

But he’s not satisfied. His lifelong ambition is to complete all the missing passages.

You see, is this braggart not overestimating himself? Heh heh!”

Xue Yuan was intrigued, stroking his chin.

“So in this world, works like the Analects are incomplete?”

“If I could complete them, wouldn’t I become a great master too?”

But after pondering, he frowned again.

“This is probably wishful thinking.

How much of the Analects did we actually study? Phrases like ‘Isn’t it a pleasure to have friends come from afar?’ are already known and need no reconstruction.

The Six Classics are even rarer.

Worse, our studies were mediocre—probably forgotten long ago!”

“Your Highness, can you tell the formula now?” Zhao interrupted, rubbing his hands with a fawning smile.

Xue Yuan snapped back to reality, glancing at Zhao disdainfully.

“Do you call me an idiot when you’re empty, but call me Your Highness when you need something? And you dare call yourself a great master? I spit on that!”

But seeing the poor boy, after checking his status, he still shared the formula with Zhao.

This old man loved tackling difficult cases and did not lack opportunities to guide.

Zhao, with just a little hearing and thought, immediately grasped the subtlety again.

His righteous energy advanced another level.

So he hurried to return the favor.

“Fool, don’t worry. I’ll speak well for you before Chu Yanxiu and get you chosen as his direct disciple!”

Xue Yuan exploded in anger.

“Who did I call a fool?”

“I spit—I meant well, can’t you tell?”

“I spit—you abuse words, what kind of great master are you?”

Qin Santai silently slipped out the door...

...

July 20, an auspicious day for travel and opening ventures!

Accompanied by Sword Seven, Xue Yuan finally arrived at Egret Academy.

Perched atop Yunmeng Mountain north of Ning’an City, the massive mountain gate loomed. Looking up, the green-tiled eaves appeared faintly through morning mist, like a celestial pavilion floating above the clouds.

Passing through the gate, stone steps led upward, with courtyards densely arrayed among the hills. Clear sounds of reading echoed, as if the jade lotus lanterns before the courtyards were imbued with the fragrance of ink.

At the summit stood a majestic main hall shrouded in mist.

The hall’s blue-glazed roof and thirty-six vermilion-carved doors were wide open, revealing a row of ink-colored folding screens and white marble statues of sages.

Behind the hall, on a solitary peak, stood a seven-story library with eaves shaped like the Big Dipper, from which copper bells dangled. When the wind blew, their chimes mingled with the pine waves—a true paradise on earth.

Xue Yuan said to Sword Seven, “Damn, this academy is grander than my prince’s mansion. Where do they get the money?”

Sword Seven explained, “Egret Academy is where Master Chu lectures and teaches. There are only two great masters in all the realm. The court builds grandly to win over scholars everywhere.”

Xue Yuan pondered, then said, “Sword Seven, work hard. When you become a Sword Saint, I’ll build you a sect grander than this!”

Sword Seven looked at him curiously. “How do you know I’ll become a Sword Saint?”

“I have faith in you!”

Page 3/3

“Oh.”

“Sword Seven, when your boss feeds you dreams, you should at least play along and give some reaction! Out here, we have to give each other face, right?”

“Mm.”

As they spoke, a middle-aged man in Confucian robes approached.

He bowed respectfully. “Student Zhao Yue, humbly welcoming Your Highness!”

Xue Yuan returned the greeting. “Well said. Where is Master Chu?”

Zhao Yue hesitated. “Your Highness seeks Master Chu? Did you have a prior appointment?”

“Yes. He invited me to listen to his lecture on Confucian classics.”

“Oh, that’s it... Please follow me.”

Xue Yuan followed Zhao Yue and Sword Seven, passing through bamboo groves to a row of wooden houses.

“Your Highness, please rest here today. Tomorrow morning, when Master Chu lectures, you will gather with other students before the main hall.”

Xue Yuan glanced at the humble and somewhat simple wooden houses, surprised.

“Are many students coming? Did Master Chu not mention me?”

Zhao Yue said, “Master Chu didn’t mention you, but Director Zhang told me they made a special seat and bed for you. There are 152 top students from across Daqian attending. Originally, there was no seat for you.”

Xue Yuan grinned awkwardly—there is a kind of embarrassment that comes from thinking you’re special when you’re really just a bystander.

He decided to settle in with Sword Seven.

But Zhao Yue added, “Sorry, attendants cannot enter. Even the Crown Prince cannot have special privileges here.”

Xue Yuan smirked, thinking he’d be fine alone. “Sword Seven, come get me tomorrow.”

Sword Seven nodded and left.

Inside the wooden room, the furnishings were simple: two beds, a cabinet, a table, and two chairs.

Apparently a double room.

Xue Yuan picked the bed against the wall and sat down heavily.

He wondered if the roommate might be female. He wouldn’t mind a woman disguised as a man—he had grown up hearing the story of Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai.

Just as he thought this, the room suddenly darkened.

Startled, he looked up toward the door.

There stood a man like an iron tower—over six feet tall, muscles bulging to the point of nearly tearing his loose Confucian robe. His beard stood stiff like steel needles, and his waist and abdomen were as powerful as a bear’s, with eight-pack abs visible even through the robe.

His large bronze eyes gazed at Xue Yuan with a slightly upturned corner, as if ready to devour him.

Xue Yuan was dumbfounded—was this supposed to be a scholar?

This was clearly a fierce warrior who should be wielding an 800-pound battle axe or a pair of meteor hammers.

On the battlefield, he’d be a killing machine, tearing into raw meat and drinking blood like a beverage upon return to camp.

And yet he held a brush to write? Did he ever consider the pen’s feelings?

Xue Yuan swallowed hard, throat bobbing nervously.

Considering Sword Seven was gone, he quickly rose and bowed.

“Brother, is this your bed? Sorry, I just arrived and sat without asking. If I’ve disturbed you, please forgive me.”

The hulking man’s Adam’s apple moved, veins like giant snakes coiled on his neck—frightening Xue Yuan’s heart to pound wildly!

But then the man bowed properly and said, “No, no, brother, you’re too polite! I came later, so naturally you should pick first. Wherever you want to sleep, just say the word, I won’t argue! Please, after you!”

Xue Yuan was stunned by the humble, almost timid tone.

Damn, judging by looks and voice, he’d have thought this was some pretty boy.

Such a fierce man speaking so meekly—how badly must society have beaten him to become like this?

He looked again at the man’s status entry.

Not looking was fine, but once he saw it, he nearly shouted.

Red status entry!

Another red status entry!