After he climbed out of the Literary Pool.
The handsome man appeared before Xu Qingxiao.
Looking at the handsome man's face, Xu Qingxiao felt a little jealous.
"Congratulations, Brother Qingxiao, on another peerless poem. It's a shame I've lost my memories. Otherwise, perhaps I could write a few essays to ensure you have enough to follow it up."
The handsome man approached to offer his congratulations.
Xu Qingxiao, meanwhile, was exceedingly respectful.
"You flatter me, Senior. Just knowing you would do that for me moves me more than I can say."
Xu Qingxiao offered a polite reply.
At the same time, he continued.
"Senior, I've already left Ping'an County and arrived in Southern Yu Prefecture. I intend to visit Bailu Academy soon. Perhaps I can discover something about your origins."
"Have you remembered anything else, Senior? That would also help me in my search."
Xu Qingxiao spoke. He intended to go to Bailu Academy at daybreak and read some books.
While there, he would look for information and see whether he could help the man recover his memories.
"Very well. Sorry for the trouble, Brother Qingxiao."
"As for my memories, I still haven't recovered much. But I'm certain they have something to do with a Great Sage. Beyond that, I know nothing."
The handsome man answered.
He had lost his memories and had never recovered them. That tiny detail was all he knew.
"I understand. Don't be anxious, Senior. Once I've searched through the records carefully, I'll let you know as soon as possible."
After confirming those few key words, Xu Qingxiao bowed as he spoke.
"Sorry for the trouble."
The handsome man sounded grateful.
Xu Qingxiao said nothing more and left the Literary Palace.
Inside the guest room.
Once Xu Qingxiao opened his eyes.
An involuntary sense of ease spread throughout his body. His mind, in particular, was exceptionally clear. Righteous Haoran Qi flowed through him, suppressing his demonic nature while nourishing his body.
"Ninth Rank, Aperture Opening. Eighth Rank, Body Cultivation."
In the Confucian Dao, the Tenth Rank was Qi-Nurturing, cultivating Righteous Haoran Qi.
The Ninth Rank was Aperture Opening, opening the aperture of wisdom to grant a flawless memory and a keen, agile mind.
The Eighth Rank was Body Cultivation. After all, this path had no real offensive abilities. Its practitioners could not destroy heaven and earth like martial artists, but they could cultivate their bodies and inner composure.
And this Body Cultivation was not merely about cultivating the body, but one's temperament.
After all, could someone who flew into a rage at every turn, felt hurt by a single remark, and grew jealous whenever others prospered really be called a Confucian Cultivator?
Cultivating the body and broadening the heart-that was the realm of the Eighth Rank.
The Righteous Haoran Qi within him was nourishing his body. Upon entering the Eighth Rank, he would reach another realm entirely: neither anxious nor impatient, with the highest goodness flowing like water, in harmony with the natural laws of heaven and earth.
Whether it was the Martial Dao, the Immortal Dao, the demonic Dao, or the Confucian Dao, the early stages were all fairly ordinary, without any terrifying leaps in strength.
Though people said each rank was a whole heaven apart, that was a relative comparison.
But from the Seventh Rank onward, things were different. Every rank brought earth-shaking changes.
Xu Qingxiao still knew these basics.
He glanced at the sky.
It was growing faintly light. The hour of the tiger had arrived.
Xu Qingxiao practiced as he did every day.
An hour later, heat steamed from his entire body. After using Righteous Haoran Qi to suppress the scorching Golden Crow Power, he rose to leave.
He wanted to visit Bailu Academy.
He pushed open his door and went downstairs, where he saw his senior brother, Chen Xinghe, along with Wang Ru.
But Chen Xinghe seemed utterly bereft, his eyes vacant as he approached the stairs.
"Greetings, Senior Brother."
Xu Qingxiao bowed.
Yet Chen Xinghe walked straight past as though his soul had fled, without so much as a reply.
This left Xu Qingxiao puzzled.
He turned his gaze toward Wang Ru.
Looking thoroughly embarrassed himself, Wang Ru drew Xu Qingxiao downstairs and said.
"Brother Qingxiao, don't disturb your senior brother for the next few days. Give him some time to recover."
Wang Ru spoke, embarrassment written all over his face.
"What happened? What's wrong with my senior brother?"
Xu Qingxiao frowned curiously.
"It wasn't much, really. After taking you back yesterday, I happened to run into Brother Chen. Your senior brother had just composed a poem himself, so I took him to the banquet."
"I thought, since you shared the same teacher, and your Man Jiang Hong had stunned everyone, Brother Chen couldn't be too far behind. But what I hadn't expected was..."
At that point, Wang Ru stopped speaking.
Xu Qingxiao more or less understood what had happened.
Ah. Well.
It was not that Xu Qingxiao looked down on Chen Xinghe. But Man Jiang Hong was a Timeless Verse composed by General Yue Fei in his previous life, shaped by the circumstances of his era.
The reverence later generations held for it was proof enough of how good the poem was.
Chen Xinghe was no slouch, but compared with General Yue Fei, he really was... no match.
Xu Qingxiao imagined the scene.
It must have been a spectacular public humiliation.
To present his own work so proudly, only to suffer a brutal slap in the face-who could bear that?
Especially when Xu Qingxiao had only begun studying less than a month ago.
What an inhuman blow.
Ahem.
Xu Qingxiao gave a light cough, feeling a little embarrassed, while Wang Ru spoke.
"Where are you headed, Brother Qingxiao?"
He asked.
"To Bailu Academy, to read."
Xu Qingxiao answered directly.
"To read? You truly are a great talent, Brother. Even with such gifts, you still go out to read. We should be ashamed of ourselves. If you don't mind, let me show you the way. After all, you've only just arrived in Southern Yu Prefecture and don't know the streets."
Wang Ru hastily offered to take Xu Qingxiao to Bailu Academy.
"Sorry for the trouble."
"No trouble at all, Brother Qingxiao. None at all."
Wang Ru had not the slightest complaint. He wished he could remain at Xu Qingxiao's side constantly. Even soaking up a little of his Literary Qi would be a gain.
After the two left.
Figures were also hurrying through the streets and alleys of Southern Yu Prefecture.
Inside a certain tavern.
A Confucian scholar held a sheet of white paper and slowly wrote out Man Jiang Hong: Hair Bristling Against My Crown before dozens of people.
Once he finished, waves of astonishment followed.
"What a poem! What a poem!"
"It deserves to be a Timeless Verse."
"What a line: 'Thirty years of glory, dust and earth; eight thousand miles of road, clouds and moon.' Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful!"
"'Do not idle away your days till your youthful hair turns white.' Wonderful!"
Repeated cheers drew the attention of several others in the tavern.
"Everyone, this poem was composed by Xu Qingxiao, Xu Shouren. You have no idea how extraordinary Brother Shouren is. With a single poem, Literary Qi entered his body and he advanced to the Ninth Rank. He's only twenty, and he's only just completed a month of study. He has the makings of a Grand Confucian!"
The scholar who had written out Man Jiang Hong spoke with his face flushed. He had not slept all night. As soon as the banquet ended, he had called his friends together to share what had happened.
His words left everyone even more astonished.
And similar scenes kept unfolding elsewhere.
At a residence.
A scholar pounded frantically on the gate, looking exceptionally excited.
The sky had yet to grow fully light.
When the gate opened, the scholar rushed straight inside and reached the bedroom door, prompting the elderly man within to rise.
"Xianping, what are you doing? Why have you come running over before dawn?"
The old man was somewhat annoyed. What could not wait until daylight?
Disturbing someone's rest so early in the morning-did scholars not need sleep?
"Teacher, Teacher, look! Please look!"
Unfazed, he held the sheet he had copied out before the old man. This elderly man had long since achieved Aperture Opening and held great prestige in Southern Yu Prefecture.
Keeping his composure, he turned his gaze to the paper.
A moment passed.
Astonishment appeared in the old man's clouded eyes.
The next instant, he held the paper as though it were a precious treasure.
"The shame of Jingcheng, still unavenged; the hatred of its subjects, when will it end?"
"Drive the long chariots forth and trample through the passes of Cloudlink Mountain."
"Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful! What a line: 'The shame of Jingcheng, still unavenged.' Wonderful, truly wonderful! A peerless poem, a peerless poem!"
"No, a Timeless Verse! This is a Timeless Verse! Did you write this?"
"No, impossible. If you could write a verse like this, you'd have entered the ranks long ago."
"Who? Who wrote it?"
The old man had gone from sleepy bewilderment to brimming vitality, his eyes positively shining as he seized his student's collar and demanded an answer.
"Teacher, this was composed at Young Master Li Xin's banquet yesterday by someone named Xu Qingxiao."
"Literary Qi has already entered his body, and he advanced to the Ninth Rank. He's no older than twenty."
A little frightened, the student nevertheless answered truthfully.
"No older than twenty? Ninth Rank? Hiss!"
"Come, we're going to see Master Chen. I'll change my clothes-no, forget changing. Come, come, come! You're coming with me."
The old man was beside himself with excitement. He wanted to change, but on second thought, to hell with changing clothes. They had to hurry.
"Why are we going to see Master Chen?"
The student was confused. He had only come to report the news so teacher and student could appreciate the work together. Why go looking for Master Chen?
"To poach his student, of course! Enough nonsense. Hurry!"
The old man roared and hurried away.
At another large residence.
A Confucian scholar ran at full speed, holding a sheet of white paper bearing his copy of Man Jiang Hong. He stumbled and fell along the way, but fortunately did not dirty the poem.
Once he got up, he rushed straight home.
"Father!"
"Father!"
"Wake up, wake up! Come and look!"
After arriving home, the scholar charged all the way to his father's bedroom and barged through the door without hesitation.
The two people on the bed jolted upright in fright.
"What are you doing?"
"So rash and reckless!"
"Where are your manners?"
The middle-aged man roared. His heart was pounding so hard that he felt he had nearly died.
"Father, look! Hurry and look!"
Not knowing how to explain, his son simply handed him the poem.
"Look, look-look at what? What's worth looking at?"
"What rubbish could you possibly have written?"
"You expect me to read some rotten poem? This is simply-"
The middle-aged man flew into a rage. So his son had woken him just to make him read a poem?
He was about to unleash his thunderous fury, but when his gaze fell on the poem, he froze.
"My hair bristled against my crown; by the railing, the driving rain had ceased."
"I raised my eyes and cried long to heaven, my heroic heart ablaze."
"Thirty years of glory, dust and earth; eight thousand miles of road, clouds and moon."
"Do not idle away your days till your youthful hair turns white, leaving only empty grief."
The poem was short, barely a hundred characters.
Yet it sent a tremor through him, as though he had found a priceless treasure.
"A peerless poem, a peerless poem! Surely a poem without equal beneath heaven!"
"Son, did you write this? Did you write this?"
The middle-aged man grew so excited that his wife beside him was left bewildered.
"Father, I attended Young Master Li Xin's grand banquet yesterday. This was composed there by Xu Qingxiao. His senior fellow disciple is Chen Xinghe, though his senior fellow disciple is only average. Brother Qingxiao's lyric even drew Literary Qi into his body, advancing him to the Ninth Rank."
"And Father, Brother Xu is only twenty years old. With the Four Great Academies now standing like the legs of a cauldron at court, he must possess extraordinary talent. Surely recruiting such a great talent for Yingtian Academy would count as a meritorious deed."
As he spoke, his father's eyes lit up.
The next moment, his father leaped straight off the bed, grabbed his clothes, and hurriedly put them on.
"Come, go with me to see Master Liu. If this lyric truly was composed by him, then he is a great talent of our age. Hurry, let's go."
By the time he finished speaking, he was already dressed. Grabbing his son, he dashed out the door, leaving his bewildered wife behind.
Southern Yu Prefecture.
The Prefectural Lord's Residence.
Something similar happened there as well.
Before you continue