"What books have you read?" Li Baisheng asked.
"I studied the elementary Primer Classic, but aside from that, I haven't finished a single book..." Lin Xuan said, somewhat embarrassed.
A look of astonishment crossed Li Baisheng's face. Someone capable of identifying the root of Great Jin's illness had barely read any books?
Then his surprise turned to regret.
For someone with so little schooling to comprehend such things, his talent for insight had to be extraordinary. Had he been taught by renowned masters from childhood, he might already have earned scholarly honors by now. Such fine years had been squandered.
Li Baisheng could more or less guess why Lin Xuan had read so little. The reason was nothing more than poverty—there had been no way around it.
Though those from military households could earn scholarly honors through the imperial examinations, that was generally reserved for the children of military officers.
For someone like Lin Xuan, whose father's generation had all been conscripted away, not attending school was perfectly normal.
True talent being buried was also one of Great Jin's maladies. This world had never lacked talented people; what it lacked were paths by which talent could rise, and people able to recognize it.
Take Zhao Chengde, the bandit-breaker. If the court had discovered his gifts sooner and brought him into its ranks, the court would have gained a Martial Saint instead of allowing him to become the pillar of those bandits and stir up such enormous waves.
Now Zhao Chengde had fled deep into the forests, his fate unknown. They had searched for a long time without finding a single clue. If he was still alive, he could make a comeback at any time.
Lin Xuan was a talent of the same kind. Fortunately, he had been discovered early; he