The Mystery of the Disappearing Confucian School

At the Xu residence.

Xu Xingzhi returned home with heavy steps.

He looked utterly dejected, like a rooster that had lost a fight.

Seeing this, Madam Xu rushed to greet him, her face full of concern.

"Husband, what's wrong?"

"Sigh—"

"There's no point in being the Director of the Seed Selection Department anymore!"

With that, Xu Xingzhi didn't even eat dinner, shutting himself in his study.

He left Madam Xu looking utterly bewildered.

"Just yesterday, everything was fine. He said it was a good thing that the Ninth Prince was transferred to the Seed Selection Department."

"He even said that with the Ninth Prince joining, His Majesty was starting to value the Seed Selection Department, and that it had a bright future?"

"What happened…?"

Madam Xu was worried sick, not knowing what had transpired.

In just one day, her husband's mindset had undergone such a drastic change.

Madam Xu knew her husband very well.

Outsiders only knew him as upright and incorruptible.

But as someone close to him, Madam Xu knew even better that her husband had a heart dedicated to saving the world and helping its people.

Her maiden family also had connections within the court.

If she truly tried to pull strings, her husband would have had the chance to be transferred out of the Seed Selection Department and appointed as a county magistrate long ago.

Ultimately, it was her husband's lingering regret that made him unwilling to leave the Seed Selection Department.

When he was young, her husband received an ancient Agricultural School inheritance.

Since then, he had made a grand vow to cultivate high-yield crops.

So that the people of the world could afford three meals a day.

"Husband…"

Madam Xu sighed softly.

Inside the study.

Xu Xingzhi frowned, sighing repeatedly.

"This official position, it's truly come to an end."

"There's no turning back from this Capital Inspection."

Xu Xingzhi knew very well that if the Ninth Prince continued to behave so recklessly, he would be the one to suffer the most.

During the Capital Inspection, when the Ministry of Personnel conducted its assessment, the Seed Selection Department would certainly fail.

The Ninth Prince was a prince; would the Ministry of Personnel dare to lay a hand on him?

Even if there were truly stubborn censors who impeached the Ninth Prince, His Majesty's punishment would likely be a mere formality.

Perhaps a year's salary docked, or three months confined to his residence.

But as the chief official of the Seed Selection Department, and the Ninth Prince's nominal superior, he couldn't escape blame; demotion was inevitable.

Perhaps he would follow in the footsteps of the previous Director of the Seed Selection Department and be banished to Yazhou.

Rather than being banished to Yazhou, it would be better to resign proactively, retire to his hometown, open a school, and educate people.

The thought of retiring to his hometown took root in Xu Xingzhi's mind the moment it appeared.

He picked up his brush and wrote the three characters "request retirement" on the memorial.

However, when he tried to put his brush to paper again, his mind couldn't help but recall his old grand vow—to ensure that all people in the world could afford to eat.

For a moment, his heart was torn.

The wolf-hair brush in his hand was lifted… then put down… put down and then lifted again…

After half a night of indecision, the memorial still only bore the three characters "request retirement."

"Your Highness, the hot water is ready."

"This servant will attend to your bath."

"Aunt Yun, I've told you, in my heart, you are my elder. There's no need to call yourself a servant."

"Your Highness, propriety must be observed. I am but a servant!"

Yun Menglan gently helped Fang Heng undress, her five slender, jade-like fingers brushing against his skin, a sensation both delicate and soft.

Watching the beautiful woman's every move, so tender and flowing like water, perfectly matched the image of a gentle beauty from a Jiangnan water town that he held in his heart.

Fang Heng soaked in the steaming bath, feeling his entire body's muscles and bones relax and ease.

Yun Menglan's fingers moved deftly, massaging Fang Heng.

Her exquisite technique, with its light plucking, slow twirling, gentle stroking, and quick flicking, almost made Fang Heng groan aloud.

"Aunt Yun, how many Spirit Farmers are there in the estate? The Seed Selection Department needs help from Spirit Farmers."

"Your Highness, this servant has cultivated Spirit Farmer techniques."

"If it's just to manage one or two thousand mu of fields, I can do it myself."

"Aunt Yun, you've cultivated Spirit Farmer techniques?"

Fang Heng turned back, his eyes showing surprise.

"More than ten years ago, I found a bargain at the market and acquired an Agricultural School inheritance. I practiced it for fun whenever I had time."

Yun Menglan's voice was gentle as she spoke of events from over a decade ago.

The mention of the Agricultural School sparked Fang Heng's interest in the ancient Schools of Thought.

"Aunt Yun, I read in historical records that in ancient times, cultivation methods weren't limited to just the Martial, Daoist, and Buddhist Schools."

"All the Schools of Thought could cultivate."

"It's just that later, all the Schools of Thought declined."

"Your Highness is right. In ancient times, cultivation methods flourished.

"After a great sifting, only the Martial, Daoist, and Buddhist Schools remained."

"However, not all cultivation methods of the Schools of Thought have been lost."

"For example, the techniques of the Agricultural School, Yin-Yang School, and Mohist School were absorbed by the Daoist School, becoming the three lineages of Spirit Farmers, Heavenly Mechanism Masters, and Puppet Masters."

"And the Military School was absorbed by the Martial Path."

"The Divine Generals of the current court are not only profound in their Martial Path cultivation but also exceptional in military strategy, capable of planning campaigns from a thousand miles away."

"Schools like the Agricultural, Yin-Yang, Mohist, and Military Schools were relatively fortunate."

"They were absorbed by other cultivation systems and their inheritances weren't completely severed."

"The Legalist, Fiction, and Miscellaneous Schools are truly pitiable; their inheritances are completely lost, not even a few texts remain."

Yun Menglan had extensive knowledge of the Schools of Thought and explained them one by one to Fang Heng.

Fang Heng had seen all of this content when reading historical records.

However, what he was most curious about was this:

There was no mention of the Confucian School in the historical records.

At first glance, the records of the Schools of Thought in the historical texts were largely similar to those in China.

It gave Fang Heng a sense of déjà vu, of something familiar.

Except, there was no Confucian School.

In Chinese history, the Confucian School was a prominent and influential school of thought.

Yet, in the historical records of Great Qian, there was no mention of it whatsoever.

Not even a single word.

This made Fang Heng feel as if, in this world, the Confucian School had been erased by some mysterious force.

"Aunt Yun, have you ever heard of a School of Thought among the ancient ones called the Confucian School?"

"The Confucian School?"

"Never heard of it!"

"Where did Your Highness hear about it?"

"I saw it in some miscellaneous books. Hmm... perhaps I misremembered."

Fang Heng didn't want Yun Menglan to dwell on it, so he quickly changed the subject.

"Aunt Yun, please teach me the Spirit Farmer techniques."

"Teaching is certainly no problem."

"It's just, why has Your Highness suddenly taken an interest in Spirit Farmer techniques?"

Yun Menglan's delicate brows furrowed, and she muttered to herself.

Her Ladyship doesn't want His Highness to be selected for the Seed Selection Department; she's been planning for him to get a position in the Ministry of War or the Divine General's Estate.

If I teach His Highness Spirit Farmer techniques, will it displease Her Ladyship?

"Working at the Seed Selection Department without knowing the Spirit Farmer methods is ultimately inconvenient."

Fang Heng sighed, not noticing the change in Yun Menglan's mood.

While the Awakening of Insects Master's ability to transfer vitality was useful, if he had to rely on it for large-scale Hybrid Rice cultivation, it would exhaust him.

Compared to ancient China, the Great Qian Dynasty, with the profession of Daoist Spirit Farmers, had a more advanced agricultural system.

Of course, this was limited to wealthy and influential clans.

After all, the training and recruitment of Spirit Farmers were not something everyone could afford.

Fields managed by Spirit Farmers not only yielded more per mu but also accelerated crop development.

Even in the Northern Border, under the care of Spirit Farmers, rice could be harvested three times a year.

In the south, it could even reach an astonishing six or even seven harvests per year.

Furthermore, fields managed by Spirit Farmers could yield over a thousand jin of rice per mu.

A yield of over a thousand jin per mu is above average even in modern society.

It was as if Spirit Farmer techniques nullified the need for Hybrid Rice, chemical fertilizers, and a series of modern technologies.

And the ability to achieve multiple harvests a year was something modern technology couldn't match.

This was the situation for wealthy clans using Spirit Farmers to cultivate rice.

As for ordinary people, who had no access to Spirit Farmers, their yield was less than four hundred jin per mu.

This was roughly on par with ancient China.

According to Fang Heng's estimation, simply developing Hybrid Rice, even without the aid of chemical fertilizers, could achieve a yield of six to seven hundred jin per mu.

That's equivalent to doubling the yield per mu!

The people depend on food as their primary need!

Food means population.

Population means the number of martial artists and cultivators.

A larger base means more prodigies.

It could be said that once Hybrid Rice is widely promoted, it could increase the Great Qian's national strength by at least fifty percent.

"Your Highness, have you made any progress in selecting seeds at the Seed Selection Department?"

"Of course!"

"Aunt Yun, what do you think it would be like if the rice yield per mu across the land doubled?"

Yun Menglan, who was massaging Fang Heng, paused slightly.

Her slender, fair, and moist fingers stopped.

Doubled yield per mu?

Is that even possible?