Great Zhou Wensheng

Chapter 233 The Half-Saint Family
Mizhou Prefecture, this majestic and fortified border city, has recently been quietly imbued with a rare cultural atmosphere.

In the streets and alleys, the figures of scholars dressed in various Confucian robes and wearing square headscarves became increasingly numerous.

Some carried books on their backs, while others wore warm jade pendants at their waists. Their auras were either as deep and steadfast as a mountain or as sharp and determined as a sword. One glance was enough to tell that they were no ordinary scholars, but rather learned men who had achieved the highest level of literary cultivation.

Even the taverns and teahouses that used to be filled with the aroma of wine and meat and the boisterous laughter of merchants now often emit elegant sounds of refined conversation, debate, and poetry recitation.

On this day, several scholars unexpectedly met in the elegant third-floor seating area of ​​the most spacious "Wangbei Tower" in the city.

"Brother Wang Ling! Is it really you?"

A scholar in a blue robe suddenly stood up, his face showing surprise, and greeted a middle-aged man in hemp clothing who had just climbed the stairs with a cupped-hand salute.

Although the man was simply dressed, he possessed a calm and extraordinary demeanor.

"Five years have passed since we parted at Songyang Academy. I heard that you have been in seclusion in the forbidden area behind the mountain, trying to comprehend the true meaning of 'righteous spirit.' Who would have thought that we would meet again today in Mizhou, in the northern frontier?"

The scholar, addressed as Wang Ling, recognized his old friend and smiled, bowing respectfully as he replied, "So it is my virtuous brother Li Mu. I have been in seclusion for several years and have made some progress. However, as the saying goes, one must travel ten thousand miles to truly understand what one has learned. I have heard that a great event is about to unfold here, so I have come to experience it firsthand and verify what I have learned."

Although his tone was calm, there were occasional flashes of brilliance in his eyes, revealing that his literary cultivation had reached a completely new level compared to five years ago.

The two sat down together, and as their teacups clinked lightly, the conversation naturally turned to the current scene of scholars gathering in Mizhou City.

Li Mu leaned forward slightly, lowered his voice, and his tone was filled with barely concealed excitement:
"Brother Wang, do you know that the city of Mizhou is currently a gathering place for outstanding talents and a constellation of brilliant minds!"

The second-place winner of this year's imperial examination, Liu Chun from Bashu, is famous for his "Bashu sword-pen" calligraphy, with strokes as sharp as swords, bold and unrestrained.
Qin Wen, a third-ranked scholar from Guanzhong, possesses the family's "Shanhezhen" literary technique, renowned for its unparalleled defensive capabilities.
These two men, who were compiling sacred texts at the Hanlin Academy, have now taken leave and come to this northern border town.

In addition, Lu Mengzheng, a local madman from Saibei, has returned.

Wang Wei, the "Sword Poet" of Mo Nan Dao, and even Mo Yanqing, the top scholar of Ling Nan Dao... These people who are usually rarely seen have all gathered here!
I wonder if they're here to observe from the sidelines, or if they intend to get involved themselves?

Upon hearing this, a hint of surprise flashed across Wang Ling's usually calm face: "Oh? Even they have shown up... It seems the rumors are indeed true. This battle is already imminent."

"It's more than just certain!" Li Mu's emotions surged even more, and he couldn't help but tap the table lightly with his knuckles. "Most importantly, the top scholar of this year's imperial examination, who surpassed his peers and stood out from the crowd, is now the Vice Minister of the Ministry of Revenue, Lord Jiang Xingzhou, who has personally come to Mizhou to take charge!"

With him here, those arrogant and proud prodigies from various fields, like Liu Chun and Qin Wen, would truly regret it for the rest of their lives if they didn't come and experience it for themselves!

These words seemed to create an invisible ripple.

The scholars at the next few tables, who had seemed to be leisurely sipping tea and chatting in hushed tones, all slowed down and quietly pricked up their ears.

For the literary world of the Great Zhou Dynasty, the name Jiang Xingzhou is like a towering, awe-inspiring peak, or a radiant North Star that guides the way forward.

They gathered here, mostly for the purpose of traveling on the river.

An elderly scholar at a nearby table stroked his long beard and sighed, “When Vice Minister Jiang was in the imperial examinations, his poems and essays were so outstanding that they could often be described as ‘national treasures’ or even ‘world-renowned’, resonating with the literary spirit of heaven and earth!”

Once the essay was completed, the bells of the Confucian Temple in Luoyang rang spontaneously, and his immense talent overshadowed the tens of thousands of other candidates in the same examination.

Unfortunately, his exquisite writing skills have always only been displayed in the imperial examinations.

We can only glimpse a fraction of its spirit from ancient texts, but we have never had the chance to witness its martial arts prowess being unleashed on the battlefield… truly a great regret!

Upon hearing this, another young scholar's eyes immediately lit up with fervent light, and he replied, "What you say is absolutely right, senior!"

The fact that Vice Minister Jiang's essays were used in the imperial examinations already makes us feel that we can hardly reach his level.

If used on the battlefield, to communicate with the laws of heaven and earth with pure literary energy and to stir up the forces of wind, thunder, water and fire, what an earth-shattering scene that would be.

Perhaps... it can truly recreate the supreme authority of the ancient sages, whose "a single word became the law of the world, and whose stroke could repel a million teachers!"

"If we could witness the emergence of the chapters of [National Defense] and even [World-Sharing] amidst this battle... what more could we ask for in this life!"

Another person murmured in agreement, their expression filled with longing.

These words immediately captivated everyone present, and magnificent images began to appear in their minds:
Perhaps it was because Jiang Xingzhou's words carried divine authority and law, that with just one word of truth, he caused thousands of wolf demons to crumble like an avalanche.

Perhaps it was his brushstrokes that transformed the magnificent writing into a golden Great Wall stretching for miles, standing tall and blocking the million-strong army of the demon kingdom.
Or perhaps, he will unleash some unparalleled literary treasure that has never appeared in the world before; under its radiant light, all demons will be utterly defeated...

This reverence and longing for the pinnacle of literary achievement has long transcended regional differences and overshadowed the competitive spirit between them.

Whether they come from the bustling heart of the Central Plains or the remote border regions of Lingnan;
Whether they were reclusive scholars diligently cultivating in academies or peerless geniuses nurtured by sage families, they all gathered in Mizhou in the northern frontier at this moment.

Many of them came specifically to witness firsthand what kind of brilliant and extraordinary poems this legendary figure, the first person in the Great Zhou Dynasty in a thousand years to achieve the highest rank in the imperial examinations, would write during this frontier war!
Amidst the hustle and bustle of Mizhou Prefecture, the appearance of the two figures did not alarm many ordinary people, but it caused the keen-sense scholars in the city to feel a slight tremor in their hearts, casting gazes of either surprise or solemnity.

The visitors were two young men.

A man dressed in a moon-white scholar's robe, the fabric of which seemed simple, yet a faint light flowed as he walked, and the subtle green bamboo pattern was faintly visible. His temperament was gentle and refined, and his eyes were clear and deep, as if they held a wealth of knowledge.

The other man was dressed in a dark-colored, silver-trimmed gentleman's casual robe. He was tall and straight, with a relaxed and handsome appearance. His every move exuded a free and unrestrained, elegant air. In particular, his hands were striking, with distinct knuckles, as if he could use his fingers as a brush to depict the world at any moment.

These two men were Du Zining, a descendant of the Du family, the family of half-saints of the Great Zhou Dynasty, and Zhang Xu, the eldest son of the Zhang family, the family of cursive script masters.

They did not travel by carriage or horseback, but simply strolled along, their steps seemingly following a mysterious rhythm, subtly harmonizing with the refined atmosphere of this place. The hustle and bustle of the surrounding city seemed to be isolated by an invisible aura, transforming into a serene tranquility around them.

"This remote Mizhou is more lively than I imagined." Zhang Xu's gaze swept over the figures of scholars vaguely visible in the windows of the restaurants along the street, a playful smile playing on his lips. "It seems that the name of Minister Jiang has extraordinary appeal."

Du Zining nodded slightly, his voice gentle: "Of course. It is said that every poem and essay by Minister Jiang, whether it be 'Qing Yu An: Lantern Festival' or 'The Rhapsody on the Afang Palace', has the grandeur to govern the country and the power to spread throughout the world. Several elders in the clan who had been in seclusion for many years also sighed deeply after reading the books, saying that his talent... was comparable to that of our ancestors in their prime."

His words conveyed undisguised admiration and respect.

The scions of a semi-saintly family possessed such lofty vision and such proud spirit.

The fact that they could give such high praise speaks volumes about Jiang Xingzhou's literary reputation.

Upon hearing this, Zhang Xu raised his eyebrows slightly and curled his lips into a proud smile, exuding the air of a direct descendant of a noble family: "Six top scholars in the imperial examinations, indeed unprecedented in history."

I certainly admire Vice Minister Jiang's essays and poems.

He paused slightly, then his right hand suddenly joined his fingers like a brush, drawing a graceful arc in the air. Though it was only for a moment, it carried a sharp and literary air, like a startled dragon suddenly appearing. "However... when it comes to cursive script, the brush moves like a dragon or snake, and the intention precedes the brush."

Surely Jiang Xingzhou is inferior to the ancestral skills of my Zhang family, right? I, Zhang, am quite confident in this family tradition.

This statement is not unfounded. The Zhang family, known as the "Sages of Cursive Script," have attained enlightenment through calligraphy, believing that a single character can transcend all rules. This pride has long been ingrained in their bloodline.

Du Zining knew his temperament well, so he just smiled gently and did not argue with him.

The Du family, the poet saint, placed greater emphasis on the profound artistic conception and didactic power of their poems. Although their approaches differed from those of the Zhang family, they were both descendants of a semi-saint, sharing a thousand-year-old heritage and tacitly understanding each other's values.

He turned his gaze toward the most imposing and solemnly imposing prefectural mansion in the city, and said slowly, "Since Minister Jiang is here, a great battle is bound to begin."

This visit may allow us to witness firsthand the dazzling brilliance of his literary skills on the battlefield. Perhaps it will also validate the millennia-old learning within our families.

A sharp glint flashed in Zhang Xu's eyes: "That's exactly right. Theory without practice is ultimately superficial. I have inherited the way of my ancestors, and I must ultimately hone and prove myself in this mortal world. Only by being able to stand alongside the pinnacle of literature and art in this era and personally experience this turbulent time can we live up to the expectations of our generation's cultivation."

The two exchanged a glance, said nothing more, and gracefully headed straight for the Mizhou government office.

Wherever they went, an invisible literary aura rippled across the still waters like a gentle breeze, spreading out in circles of ripples in the hearts of the many scholars who gathered on both sides of the street.

"Those are... people from the Du and Zhang families?"

"Even the semi-saint families have sent their direct descendants to watch the battle! Du Zining, Zhang Xu... are all true outstanding figures of this generation from the Du Saint and Grass Saint families!"

"It seems that the events in Mizhou have far-reaching implications than we imagined!"

"They possess the true essence of semi-saintly literary arts passed down from their ancestors... I wonder if we will be fortunate enough to witness the reappearance of semi-saintly literary arts in the world this time..."

Beyond the northern border lies a vast expanse of ice.

This place is a bitterly cold region bordering the northern border of the Great Zhou Dynasty. The north wind howls all year round, whipping up snowflakes that fill the sky, leaving only a vast and desolate landscape.

However, deep within this white wasteland, a vast camp stretching as far as the eye could see had been established.

The tents were not made of ordinary cloth; they were constructed from a mixture of thick, ancient ice wood and tough, unidentified animal hides. Rough and sturdy as hills, they exuded a strong, pungent stench, and a terrifying, eerie aura gathered like clouds, stirring up the wind and snow.

This is the gathering place of the Snow Wolf Demon Kingdom's southern expeditionary army.

The central command tent was particularly imposing in size, resembling a small fortress. A hideous white wolf skull hung high above the tent, with two eerie blue soul flames flickering in its empty eye sockets, coldly overlooking the entire camp.

Inside the tent, a campfire roared, roasting a whole skinned snow ox. Fat dripped into the fire, crackling and popping. The rich aroma of meat mingled with the lingering smell of blood, filling the sweltering air.

The Snow Wolf King sat regally on a huge stone chair covered with a complete white bear king's hide.

He wasn't the most imposing man in the tent, but his muscles were bulging and knotted, as if they contained the power to shatter mountains and split rocks. His gray fur was interspersed with silvery white, symbolizing endless years. His wolf eyes flashed with sharp light as they opened and closed, carrying the cold and majestic authority of someone who held the reins of life and death and had long held the highest position.

Below the tent, his dozens of princes, as well as the Wolf Marquis and Wolf Commander who commanded the troops, sat in two rows.

These powerful demons were all fierce and their murderous aura was almost tangible. At this moment, they were tearing at their prey with savage abandon, and their loud roars were deafening, almost blowing the tent roof off.

"Father!"

The most muscular wolf prince, with a deep claw mark on his face, suddenly stood up and slammed a huge, gnawed cow leg bone into the ground, sending bone fragments flying.

His eyes were bloodshot as he roared, "Seventh Brother must not have died in vain! He was merely following the old custom, leading the men to the border of the Great Zhou to hunt for supplies and gain some experience, when he was captured by that old man Tian Qian through treacherous literary tricks and taken to Luoyang, the capital of the Great Zhou, to be humiliated!"

Ultimately… he met a tragic end at the hands of Jiang Xingzhou, leaving no trace of his remains! This hatred is irreconcilable, and he will surely pay with his blood!

He was the eldest prince of the Snow Wolf Kingdom, and was extremely violent and bloodthirsty.

"That's right! Your Majesty!"

A wolf lord with dark red fur licked the blood between his fangs, his eyes flashing with ferocity. "In the previous probing, our army broke through several border towns and small villages of the Great Zhou, plundering food and wealth."

However, apart from increasing the number of troops patrolling the border, the Great Zhou court did not launch a large-scale counterattack!

In my humble opinion, their internal affairs are corrupt, and they have long lost the courage to fight with all their might!

The cunning Wolf General, standing to the side, interjected sinisterly, "Wolf Marquis, your insight is brilliant. Messages from Luoyang's spies indicate that the Empress is busy weakening the power of the vassal states and is at odds with the powerful and influential princes!"
How could the feudal lords possibly surrender?

The Great Zhou is now riddled with holes, ready to ignite at any moment—if not now, when?

A wild, howling laugh suddenly erupted from inside the tent, the demonic aura burning intensely.

"A golden opportunity has been presented! The fate of the Great Zhou Dynasty is waning!"

"Not just us!" A wolf prince with eyes as sharp as an eagle slammed his fist on the table and stood up. "The demon kingdoms of the Northern Frontier—the Tiger Demon, the Bear Rong, the Horse Barbarian, and the Eagle Demon—have all secretly deployed their troops! Once our army breaks the deadlock first, they will pounce on us like hyenas smelling blood and divide up the Northern Frontier!"

"Why should the Great Zhou Dynasty monopolize the most fertile land in China?"

"A blood debt must be avenged! Avenge the Seventh Prince!"

"Let's expand our territory in this battle!"

Amidst the howling, demonic energy surged as if it were tangible, and the killing intent nearly lifted the top of the tent.

The Snow Wolf King remained silent, its cold gaze sweeping over the pack of wolves one by one. Finally, it extended its massive, barbed tongue and slowly licked its gleaming white fangs. A low growl, like a muffled thunderclap, instantly silenced all the commotion.
"I have witnessed the courage and spirit of my sons."

"The internal strife in the Great Zhou Dynasty is a matter of opportune timing."

"The northern frontier is surrounded by demons, which is an advantage of the terrain."

He suddenly stood up, his king-level aura crushing like a mountain collapsing, causing all the demons to bow their heads and hold their breath:
"—Then let the bones and wails of the Zhou people proclaim to the northern frontier: who is worthy to rule this land!"

"Order: Feed your enemies thoroughly, sharpen your blades, and offer sacrifices to the flag to gather their souls!"

"At dawn tomorrow, we will crush Iron Mountain City! Using it as a wedge, we will swallow Mizhou and sweep across the northern frontier!"

"Roar--!"

Inside and outside the tent, 100,000 wolf demons howled in unison, their roars tearing through the sky and even dispersing the floating clouds with their overwhelming demonic aura.

The army of the Snow Wolf Demon Kingdom, carrying the scent of blood and rust in the biting winter wind, rushed toward the last line of defense in the northern border of the Great Zhou Dynasty.

(End of this chapter)