The afternoon sunlight slanted down from the sky. The massive figure stirred up a rushing wind, his monk’s robes billowing in the air like a whirling storm, and in the sudden clash, a thunderous sound rang out.
At this moment, the man the people called the Buddha King had set aside all gentleness, charging forward like a wrathful vajra deity, his ferocious killing intent and fierce presence seeming capable of crushing any enemy before him. Especially in the eyes of the lifelong martial artists among the underworld crowd, imagining themselves on the receiving end of that soul-shaking punch was enough to send a chill down anyone’s spine. It wasn’t just his fists and feet—most people present would likely have their internal organs shattered simply from touching Lin Zongwu’s body.
And in this same instant, on the opposite side of the training ground, the Eight-Armed Dragon King displayed a war god’s bearing that was equally chilling. The calm word “Very well” was still echoing when the two figures suddenly closed the distance. In the center of the training ground, the heavy eight-sided bronze staff rose into the sky, raised with the force of a thousand pounds!
Lin Zongwu’s hands swung down as though gripping the entire earth itself.
When the thunderous boom rang out, it made everyone’s scalps tingle.
The terrifying power unleashed at the very peak of martial arts—something most of the martial artists present had never witnessed, something even a lifetime of training could hardly have prepared them to imagine—now appeared before their eyes.
At this level of confrontation, weapons no longer mattered. Lin Zongwu’s body surged and leapt with tremendous speed, his punches and kicks carrying the force of a thousand pounds, his robe sleeves whipping up storm-force winds, and against Shi Jin’s bronze staff—which had killed countless men on the battlefield—he showed not the slightest weakness. His massive frame, every inch of it a weapon, closed the distance against the bronze staff in the blink of an eye, seeking to trade blows at close range. The instant they made contact, the two figures circled and moved rapidly, Shi Jin’s staff whirling like thunder, striking down in sweeping arcs, and his offense did not rely on his weapon alone—once Lin Zongwu closed in, he met fist with elbow, leg with leg, showing not the slightest weakness against Lin Zongwu’s tremendous strength.
Dust swirled into the air, stones on the ground shattered and scattered under their feet. Aside from the sounds of the fight, the surroundings fell into a suffocating silence. Anyone who had witnessed the battle at Lüliang Mountain a decade earlier might have recognized that Lin Zongwu’s offense now was like a great river, like ocean tides—surging, heavy, and unending.
His robe sleeves whipped up storm winds; in his swinging strikes, one punch and one technique after another built upon the last, almost without end. In the martial world, there existed techniques like the “Three Layered Waves of the Yangtze,” which drew on the patterns of nature, riding the momentum of an attack like the surging waves of a great river, pushing power to its peak. But Lin Zongwu’s martial arts had already transcended this very concept entirely. Ten years earlier, Hongti had grasped the philosophy of taiji and incorporated it into her martial path—she used the opponent’s force against them, dissolving incoming force, blending herself into the flow of nature, riding momentum to find every opening, killing with the smallest of movements on the battlefield. In their sparring matches, no matter how great Lin Zongwu’s strength, he could never truly land it on her. And now, perhaps inspired by that very battle, his power had developed in a different direction—one entirely his own.
Manipulating power, controlling power, accumulating and unleashing that tremendous force like flowing water. Like a whirling ocean wave, like a great river bursting its banks, a flood of ten thousand acres surging forth, crashing down upon the enemy before him without leaving the slightest opening. This was the ultimate destructive force born from following taiji’s principle of water.
And facing such power, though Shi Jin was often the one forced to give ground in their exchanges, no one thought he was at a disadvantage. A spear or staff has always had the advantage of reach, and amid Lin Zongwu’s overwhelming assault, he steadily kept the two of them at a fixed distance, his staff’s shadow dancing as he launched attacks equally capable of splitting earth and shattering stone against his enemy.
If Lin Zongwu’s fists and feet were like a vast ocean, then Shi Jin’s attacks were like ten thousand dragons soaring. As the carp leaps a thousand miles upstream to transform into a dragon, the dragon possesses an unyielding will—in his attacks, those ten thousand dragons charged forward without regard for their own safety, seeking to shatter the enemy, like ten thousand claps of thunder striking against that overwhelming ocean tide, trying to forcibly smash apart those thousand-mile waves.
Both men’s martial arts had reached the level of true mastery, and both followed a path of direct, head-on confrontation. Among the thousand or so people present, even though many lacked the skill to fully appreciate it, they could nonetheless vaguely sense the towering will being displayed before them.
Years earlier, Lin Zongwu had spoken of challenging Zhou Tong, but before that duel could ever take place, Zhou Tong had died a martyr’s death. Later, at the battle of Lüliang Mountain, witnessed by few, Lu Hongti’s sword path had been about killing only to save—utterly pragmatic. Though Lin Zongwu had fought head-on with full force, he had always felt stifled against Lu Hongti’s swordsmanship. Not until today did such a duel finally take place before hundreds and thousands of onlookers, stirring hearts and minds, magnificent beyond words. As Lin Zongwu’s attacks flowed smoothly, he suddenly let out a long roar—a sound like the deep, resonant chant of a vajra deity, thick and resounding, soaring straight into the sky, spreading out in all directions across the training ground.
Everyone present sensed, vaguely, that this was a battle destined to be remembered through the ages. For a moment, it seemed as though all the glory in the heavens was gathering here.
…
Heaven and earth are not benevolent, yet all things have spirit.
…
And so every person strives for what they believe to be right.
On the training ground, Ning Yi watched all of this, lightly tapping his fingers on the railing, speaking in a low voice. His tone, amid the passionate battle raging in the distance, remained calm—as if he existed on the other side of some divide separating him from the world.
“…How a single person should live in this world, how two people should, how a family should, how a village should, up to how ten million people should live—what rules to set, what laws to follow, what customs to observe, so that peace among ten million people can last as long as possible—this is the most complex calculation there is. Ever since humanity began, this calculation has never stopped. Two thousand years ago, during the age when a hundred schools of thought contended, Confucius’s calculation was the most representative.”
“Throughout his life, Confucius pursued benevolence and ritual propriety. In his own time, he was not given much importance. But looking back from today, what exactly was he pursuing? I think, first of all, he was very reasonable. ‘Repay resentment with virtue’—what of that? He said, repay resentment with uprightness, repay virtue with virtue. This is the basic principle behind ensuring good and evil each receive their due. In the society of his time, people admired chivalry, valued revenge, believed a life for a life and a debt repaid in kind—justice was simple. What later generations came to call ‘repaying resentment with virtue’ was, in fact, mere sentimentality without substance—and such sentimentality, Confucius said, is the thief of virtue. However, simply saying he was reasonable doesn’t fully capture what he was after…”
“In the Analects, there are the stories of Zigong ransoming captives and Zilu accepting an ox. The state of Lu had a law: if a citizen saw a fellow countryman enslaved abroad and ransomed him, he would receive a reward. Zigong ransomed someone but refused the reward, and then told Confucius about it. Confucius scolded him harshly, saying that from then on, no one else would go abroad to ransom people anymore—Zigong had, in effect, done real harm. Meanwhile, Zilu once saved a drowning man, and the man gave him an ox in gratitude, which Zilu happily accepted. Confucius was delighted, saying: from now on, the people will surely be brave enough to save others.”
“But beyond this story, Confucius also said that a son should conceal his father’s crimes—kin should shield kin. Does this align with benevolence and virtue? It seems not to—what about the victim? Confucius emphasized filial piety at the time, and we tend to think filial piety outweighs everything else. But consider the society of that era—the land was vast, the population sparse, the state loosely organized. People needed to eat, to live—what mattered most? In truth, it was the family. If, in reverse, everything had been made to follow strict impartial justice at that time, families would have fallen apart. To sustain the productive capacity of that era, kin shielding kin was the most pragmatic principle—there was no other way. Many of the stories and sayings in the Analects revolve around several core ideas, yet they aren’t entirely consistent with one another. But if we calm ourselves and look for a single unifying core, we find that everything Confucius said was aimed at genuinely maintaining the stability and development of the society of his time—this was his one and only true goal. In his time, not a single one of his ideas was impractical.”
Ning Yi’s tapping on the railing remained monotonous and even; here, his words paused briefly.
“After the Spring and Autumn period, the scope of states expanded, developing gradually—a state was no longer just a single city or region. Though people still used the Analects to govern the realm, the principle of ‘repaying resentment with uprightness’ gradually faded. The stories of Zigong ransoming captives and Zilu accepting an ox were no longer promoted. By the Tang dynasty, as the presence of the state grew stronger still, the practice of kin shielding kin was further restricted—treason and rebellion could no longer be concealed. We might ask: is ‘repaying resentment with virtue’ truly reasonable? If everyone advocates repaying resentment with virtue, then one day, when you wish to seek revenge, wouldn’t everyone stop you? But in practical terms, as states grew larger, when someone from one place moved to another, you wouldn’t know your neighbors well—if he claimed he was seeking revenge, how could you verify it? If everyone were fierce and upright, repaying resentment with directness, society might actually go too far and collapse in practice. So when a state had ten million subjects, and officials and law enforcement could not possibly be everywhere at once, softening the temperament of the people became the practical path to long-term stability.”
“From the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods through Qin, Han, Jin, and Tang, down to today—two thousand years of development, with Confucianism being revised and corrected generation after generation—was it all for the sake of ritual propriety? Benevolence? Virtue? In truth, it was all for the practical continuation of the state, for people to gain the greatest real benefit. But when it comes to right and wrong, Chengye, do you think they were right or wrong?”
Fang Chengye furrowed his brow, unsure how to answer.
Ning Yi watched the fight on the training ground. “Two thousand years, hundreds of millions of people born and died, and any given state lasts a mere two hundred years or so. When it comes to right and wrong, Chengye, the sage’s method of judging right and wrong is different from mere sentimentality.”
He sighed softly. “People in this world all wish to believe in clear judgments of right and wrong. Ordinary people, facing something, ask what is right and what is wrong, believing that doing the ‘right’ thing will surely turn out well. For example, when to farm—we plant seedlings on the best days, and leave the rest to fate. Simple and clear, isn’t it?”
Ning Yi smiled. “Two thousand years ago, Confucius and a group of people—perhaps ordinary people like us—discussed how to live, how to get by, how to live as well as possible. For two thousand years, people have been patching and mending, and now the state can last over two hundred years, and we can have prosperity like that of the former Martial Dynasty. Have we reached the end goal? Our end goal is to let the state endure for ten thousand generations, continuing on and on, finding a way for every generation to be happy. Based on this end goal, we search for ways for ten million people to coexist, and all we can say is—we’ve calculated a very narrow path, a very, very narrow one, but it isn’t the answer. If we judge by strict requirements of right and wrong, we are wrong.”
“Confucius didn’t know what was truly right—he couldn’t be certain whether what he was doing was correct. But he thought it through repeatedly, sought truth pragmatically, and spoke his conclusions, telling others. Later generations patched and mended his ideas, but who can say they are absolutely correct? No one can. Yet after careful deliberation, they carried these ideas forward anyway. ‘The sage, being without benevolence, treats the common people as straw dogs’—in this careful deliberation, they did not indulge in wishful thinking simply because of their own kindness. They took human nature seriously, and seriously reasoned it through… On the opposite end, take Shi Jin—upright in character, loyal to his brothers, valuing righteousness, someone you can trust with your heart and your life. I admire him and respect him, and yet Chifeng Mountain still collapsed from internal strife.”
“What is right, what is wrong, Chengye—when we ask this question, we are, in truth, shirking our own responsibility. Facing this world is difficult for anyone; surviving is difficult, living happily is even harder. When you do something and ask yourself, ‘Am I doing the right thing?’—that judgment of right and wrong depends on the outcome you want. But no one can answer that for you—only the world itself knows, and it will strike you down the moment you get it wrong. More often than not, people are a mix of right and wrong—you gain one thing, and lose another.”
“All a person can do is summarize patterns and principles. Facing something significant, we don’t know whether our next step will be right or wrong, but we know that if we’re wrong, the consequences will be devastating, and that fear weighs on our hearts. Because of that fear, we examine our methods over and over, repeatedly asking ourselves whether we’ve overlooked something, whether we’ve let unrealistic expectations creep into our calculations. This fear drives you to put in countless times more effort than others, and in the end, having truly done your utmost, you face whatever outcome comes. This sense of fear is what teaches you to truly face the world, and teaches a person true responsibility.”
“Imagine an ordinary person running a small business. He’s kind-hearted, content as long as everyone around him gets along happily. He doesn’t care if various busybodies are skimming money off the top, doesn’t care if his own brothers harbor selfish motives behind the scenes. One day the business collapses, and he says, I’m just an ordinary person—is it wrong of me to be kind? Now imagine that one day, this same person has to run a country…”
“Back to the example of planting rice seedlings: some people plant their seedlings today and simply wait for heaven to decide whether it will be a bountiful harvest or a famine. They know they cannot control the weather, they’ve done their best, and they feel at peace with themselves. But others, planting their seedlings, are deeply afraid of famine, so they dig irrigation canals, build reservoirs, carefully study the patterns of weather each year and the patterns of natural disasters, analyzing what to do so people can survive even after a crop failure. Generations later, perhaps because of these very fears, people will no longer need to fear natural disasters at all.”
“We don’t know what kind of action is right, but we know what kind of attitude is most right. Confucius was right—given the living conditions of his time, he proposed the greatest good that could actually be put into practice. The sages being without benevolence—they were right, because they sought truth and pursued the practical, never proposing a kindness that couldn’t actually function. During the An Lushan Rebellion of the Tang dynasty, the general Zhang Xun defended Suiyang; besieged with no food left, he had his own concubine killed first to feed his soldiers, then had the soldiers eat the people of the city, holding out to the very end before dying in battle. Even he, in the end, was right.”
Ning Yi paused for a long while. “And yet, ordinary people can only see right and wrong as it appears immediately before them. This is because, first of all, it’s impossible for everyone in the realm to be educated—there’s no way to teach them something this complex about right and wrong. Rather than let their temperaments grow fierce and violent, it is better to let them grow gentle and yielding—making them yielding is the right choice. But when we face something concrete, like the people of Zezhou, with disaster looming over them—cursing the Jurchens, cursing Tian Hu, cursing the starving refugees, cursing the Black Banner, cursing this chaotic age—does any of that actually help? You and I feel pity in our hearts; if we today decide not to wade into this muddy water, could they actually reach happiness in any real sense?”
Ning Yi patted Fang Chengye’s shoulder. “In the years ahead, times will only grow harder. If we don’t get involved, the Jurchens will truly march south, replace Great Qi, and destroy the Southern Martial Dynasty. The Mongols may march south as well. If we don’t get involved, if we don’t strengthen ourselves, can these people survive—forget the future, can they even survive today? What is right? One day, in the future, the realm will be settled in some way or another—this is a narrow path, and this path will surely be soaked in blood. For the good of the people of Zezhou, what is right? Cursing certainly isn’t right. If he could pick up a blade, kill the Jurchens, kill the starving refugees, kill the Grand Luminous Sect, kill the Black Banner, and bring peace to the realm from then on—if that could actually be done, I would gladly wait for it with open arms. But can it be done?”
“War is an exchange of lives—it will always mean many deaths,” Ning Yi said. “Years ago, I killed an emperor, because many people I respected, people who had awakened, great people, had died. Killing him was the beginning of my refusal to compromise. Over the years, I’ve had even more such people around me, and every day, I watch them go to their deaths. Can I afford to feel pity? Chengye, you cannot even let your emotions interfere with your judgment. Every moment of hesitation, wavering, or miscalculation on your part will cost more lives.”
“You can only observe calmly, and remind yourself again and again of the objective law that heaven and earth are not benevolent—it will not go easy on you just because you are kind. You must repeatedly ask yourself: is the future I want to achieve—a future built on the deaths of so very many people—already, relatively speaking, the best possible one? After all these deaths, does the outcome, arrived at through cold, unbiased calculation, actually align with the inclination toward good that all things possess…”
…
On the training ground, the fierce and valiant battle continued. Lin Zongwu’s sleeves had been shredded to pieces by the whirling shadow of the staff, blood seeping from his arms with each strike, droplets flying. Shi Jin’s shoulders, hands, and forehead had all been wounded, but he pressed forward silently, unmoved.
Ahead, the power in the “Buddha King’s” fists continued to climb, growing ever stronger in a way that even shocked Shi Jin!
“Shi Jin!” Lin Zongwu roared. “Hahaha, I admit it—you are a true grandmaster of the martial path, the finest opponent I have encountered in nearly a decade!”
His heroic voice, like the wrath of a vajra deity, echoed across the sky above the training ground—
…
“…Confucianism developed for two thousand years, and by the time it reached Qin Siyuan, further revisions were proposed—guiding human desire toward the principles of heaven. Here, the ‘principles of heaven’ are, in fact, also natural law. But the common people don’t study, so how can they be taught these heavenly principles? In the end, perhaps all one can do is teach them behavior—simply follow the rules more and more strictly according to one’s social rank. This might be another path taken out of necessity, but it’s one I am no longer willing to walk…”
In the corridor, Ning Yi closed his eyes slightly.
…
In the pouring rain over Weisheng, alarm bells rang out within the city, and massive chaos was already spreading.
In the half-fallen imperial palace, Tian Hu, sword in hand, roared at officials outside whom he had once trusted absolutely: “Why? What conditions did they offer you—”
…
North of Tian Hu’s territory, the righteous army led by Wang Juyun was pressing in with overwhelming force.
…
In the Zezhou prison, two constables slowly approached, chatting idly about everyday matters. The fat constable scanned the prisoners in the cell, his gaze lingering for a moment on You Hongzhuo. After a while, he gave a soft snort and pulled out his keys to unlock the door. “Heh heh, tomorrow’s the big day. Let’s give the young master here one more proper welcome today… Xiao Qin, what’s all that shouting over there! Keep an eye on them, don’t let them cause trouble!”
“Got it.” The young constable named Xiao Qin answered, setting down the bucket he had been carrying by the other cell door. You Hongzhuo saw him turn and walk over with an unhurried, casual gait.
He drew a triangular awl from his waist.
“The officer isn’t in a very good mood today…”
“Brother Fatty.”
“Hmm? You…”
The young constable jabbed the awl into his neck in one smooth motion, then pulled it out. Blood sprayed out with a spurt. The fat constable stood there, stunned for a moment.
In the dim light, the men in the nearby cells watched blankly as the fat constable clutched his neck, staggered back two steps, leaned against a cell pillar, and finally slid down, his body convulsing, blood pooling on the ground, his eyes still holding an expression of disbelief.
“Sorry. I’m one of the good guys.”
Xiao Qin said this, then turned to look at the nearby cells.
“The Huaxia Army is at work here. Please cooperate, everyone—no noise for the time being…”
“…Thank you for your cooperation.”
…
“…Purely on a practical level—can the ordinary masses, who can only accept simple notions of right and wrong, be reformed and enlightened enough to basically grasp the logic of right and wrong?… Perhaps it’s possible…”
As Ning Yi said this, he opened his eyes.
“…The most basic requirement for this is, in fact, a change in material conditions. When the study of natural science develops significantly enough that everyone in the entire nation has the opportunity to be educated—that is the first step. Once universal education for everyone is achieved, what follows is a reform of the elite cultural system. Because, over these past two thousand years, the fact that most people could not read was an unchangeable objective reality, this gave rise to a cultural system that pursued only the heights and never pursued universality—and this is something that needs to be reformed.”
He looked at Fang Chengye, who appeared somewhat confused yet excited, his own expression carrying a trace of weariness and uncertainty.
“Imagine a day when everyone under heaven can read and write. When they can voice their own opinions on the affairs of the state, when they can offer their own judgments on what the country and its officials do. Then, first of all, they would need to be certain that they truly understand the principle that heaven and earth are not benevolent, that they can understand what is truly long-term, what is genuinely achievable goodness… This is a goal they must reach, a lesson they must complete.”
“We stand at the edge of a cliff, not knowing whether our next step is right, but we know that if we step wrong, we will fall; if we speak wrongly, there will be consequences. So we search for principles that are as objective as possible… Because of our fear of stepping wrong, we become careful, and within that carefulness, we can find a truly correct attitude.”
He looked ahead.
“Confucianism has taken two thousand years. If we can develop the natural sciences and spread literacy, perhaps we can accomplish enlightenment in just a few hundred years… If you and I, in this lifetime, can lay the foundation for it, that alone would be enough to bring us peace of mind.”
The duel on the training ground had reached its conclusion.
Ning Yi looked over at it for a long while, sighed, reached into his robe, took out two copper coins, and tossed them far into the distance.
“A reward.”
At the very instant he threw the coins, Lin Zongwu, struck by sudden intuition, turned to look this way.
A deep, rumbling explosion sounded from somewhere far off in the city.
“Ah… it’s time.”
Ning Yi turned and slipped away from the crowd. At this moment, the great chaos of Zezhou had begun.