The Duke of An's Estate.
Everyone was somewhat stunned.
The second-generation heirs in particular were utterly dumbstruck.
They had already been amazed when purple light shot from Xu Qingxiao's eyes, but what he said afterward shocked them even more.
This boy had the potential to become a Grand Confucian?
What was a Grand Confucian? They knew perfectly well: someone whose words reached the emperor's ears, someone who could swagger wherever he went.
They might spend all day cursing those pedantic scholars, but what was the reality? Anyone who moved in the Capital's circles knew that the safest people at court were precisely those Confucian scholars.
Why?
Because they had Sages behind them. Confucian scholars could not be killed unless they committed some heinous crime. Merely saying a few wrong words or backing the wrong faction was not enough-not even berating the emperor to his face.
At worst, they would receive a few strokes of the rod and be sent packing back home. The problem was that once they returned home, their prestige only grew. Everyone would say they had defied the powerful and even confronted the emperor for the sake of the common people.
Did the common people understand court affairs? They did not. Add a Confucian Cultivator's silver tongue to the mix, and his reputation would soar in an instant, leaving him to spend the rest of his life in complete comfort.
What were Confucian scholars fighting for, after all? A name that would endure through the ages. The more the emperor scolded them, the happier they actually became. Scold them today, and they would write an essay that evening for every scholar in the land to read.
Such tactics put them in an inherently invincible position, because when all was said and done, those standing behind them were