A son who doesn't resemble his father? Love you, old man, see you at Xuanwu Gate!

Chapter 74 Punishing Tyranny
The sky is high and the clouds are light.

A black pigeon, with a sharp whistle, flew over the desolate plains of the Wei River, over the southern mountains, and into the vast expanse of ravines.

The mountains and rivers slowly receded into the distance, while the black doves, like tireless arrows, flew swiftly southeast.

These are the thousands of mountains of the major river systems and the Yangtze River system.

This mountain range rises abruptly from the ground a hundred miles south of the Wei River, forming the first peak and deep valley, known as Nanshan or Qinling.

The rivers of the world split off at this southern mountain; most of the rivers to the north flow into the Yellow River, and most of the rivers to the south flow into the Yangtze River.

This southern mountain thus became the watershed between the major river basin and the Jiangshan River basin.

The "Four Rivers" and "Eight Streams" arose from this.

The four major rivers that flow independently into the sea—the Yellow River, the Yangtze River, the Huai River, and the Ji River—are collectively known as "Du" (渎).

The eight main branches under the character “渎” are “流”: Wei River, Luo River, Han River, Mian River, Ying River, Ru River, Si River, and Yi River.

A place where the four rivers and eight streams depend on each other is a blessed land.

The vast mountain range into which the black dove flew is bordered by the Yellow River to the north and the Yangtze River to the south, stretching for thousands of miles from northwest to southeast. It is a place rarely visited by people. From our ancestors to people today, it has been regarded as the best blessed land in the world, and its name is Shennong Mountain.

Beneath the pale white clouds, the peaks rise one after another, piercing the blue sky. The forests are desolate yet lush, the valleys are steep and the water flows like a ribbon. There is no sign of human life, only the wind and snow sweeping through the forest, like the sound of surging waves.

However, deep within these vast, white mountains, there lies a place of evergreen trees, where tigers roar and monkeys howl, birds sing and flowers bloom, and spring reigns all year round.

When the black dove stubbornly flew over, it startled the hungry and cold eagle. The eagle's loud cry immediately echoed throughout the forest. The black dove cried out "coo-coo," and faced with the eagle's attack, it seemed that death was the only option.

A sharp whistling sound pierced the blue sky, and the eagle let out a long cry before plummeting into the vast forest. The black dove's agile eyes revealed its intelligence.

I'm waiting for someone, what are you doing?
In the courtyard built of mountain stones, the young man in plain clothes easily put away the small crossbow that had shot down the eagle. He then placed his two palms together in front of his mouth, which was the sound of an ancient call to return home.

The black dove fluttered down and landed on the boy's shoulder, nuzzling his cheek with its head as affectionately as ever.

The boy tilted his head, grabbed the black pigeon, took a piece of fine cloth from beside his leg, scattered some rice, and let the pigeon peck at it.

"teacher."

The young man entered the stone house and said respectfully, "The Han court has granted us hereditary titles."

Simple and direct.

The generational order of Mohist disciples is quite different from that of other schools of thought. Ordinary schools have strict generational order, and the lineage of teachers and students is arranged analogously to blood relations, divided into several generations such as grandmaster, master, teacher, and student. Collateral relatives are called grandmaster uncle, uncle, etc. A school is a strict and orderly family sequence.

Mozi believed in universal love for all under heaven. All his students, regardless of seniority, addressed each other as senior and junior brothers. From Mozi's time, only the "Grand Master" was called the teacher. The others addressed each other as fellow students based on their order of entry into the Mo family and their order of study.

The motionless, strangely-looking old man turned around and walked over barefoot.

It's strange because it really is strange. The old man's long white hair at the back of his head contrasts sharply with his bright red bald head, which looks like an "oddity" no matter how you look at it.

However, all the leaders of the Mohist school throughout history have been like this; their appearances are not like those of the Chinese people, but more like those of strange people from Western foreign lands.

Ultimately, Mozi was the same. He was born quite different from the people of the Central Plains, with a high nose and deep-set eyes, a tall but slightly hunched figure, a bald head, and barefoot all his life.

Even during Mencius' time, Confucian scholars disregarded their social standing and criticized Mozi, firstly for being "fatherless," and secondly for "wearing out his hair and toes to benefit the world." Born without knowing his father, he relied on his unusual appearance and ascetic practices to bestow petty favors upon the world—a truly callous act.

Mozi referred to himself as "a humble person," and later great figures also referred to themselves as "a humble person."

After the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods, the Mohists went into seclusion, and their disciples rarely left the Shennong Mountain. Nearly a century has passed, and the magical stories of the Mohists have gradually faded away. But unexpectedly, the Han court still remembers them.

The Grand Master had a long stride, so he walked very fast. His bare feet trod on the cold bluestone slabs without him feeling anything. He picked up the fine silk and examined it carefully before laughing out loud. "Confucianism has finally collapsed."

Without debate, one cannot know how much Confucianism was involved in the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods. In the eyes of the Mohists, Confucianism, at its core, was about Confucius constantly striving for worldly power and official positions.

Mozi, on the other hand, spent his entire life at odds with worldly power. Despite possessing extraordinary talent, he willingly lived a life of hardship and humility, refusing to serve as an official or seek office. He devoted himself to helping the weak and needy, loving all under heaven, and despising power.

Confucianism dislikes Mohism, and Mohism dislikes Confucianism.

As the First Emperor unified the six kingdoms, the Mohists, who were originally close to the Qin court, refused the emperor's summons and went into seclusion in the mountains, while the Confucians, who were originally at odds with the Qin court, accepted the emperor's summons and became active in the court and among the people.

Therefore, the Mohists always admired the Confucianists' ability to endure.

We watched as Confucianism rose to prominence, as it hosted lavish banquets for guests, and now, we watch as that edifice crumbles.

"The hereditary duty of guarding the ancestral temple." The old Grand Master looked at the conditions offered by the Han court, but his heart remained unmoved.

But seeing the young man, and the disciples who gradually gathered around, seemingly indifferent but actually listening intently, the old master knew they were very interested.

Loneliness is unbearable.

In particular, many Mohist disciples had never left the mountains and were very curious about the outside world. The Han court's arrangements also relieved the Mohist disciples of their survival risks, allowing them to confidently venture out of the mountains.

"Greetings, Master," said Suo Lucan, the eldest disciple of the Mohist school, bowing.

"You also want to come out of seclusion?"

The old master smiled and looked at him, then scolded, "You've been tempted by a mere temple guard? You're such a spineless brat."

In an instant, the old tycoon's smile vanished.

Suo Lucan knew he couldn't hide it from his teacher, nor did he intend to. He honestly said, "Teacher, I want to see the outside world. I don't want what I've learned to be buried in the mountains."

"People outside want to come in, but you always want to go out."

The old man looked at the students with mixed feelings of excitement, tension, and unease. This paradise in the mountains could provide for people's basic needs, and people outside longed to come in while those inside yearned to leave. Perhaps, this was just human nature.

Wherever his gaze fell, the Mohist disciples all lowered their heads.

"You children, I will give you one last lesson. In this world, there is not only tyranny, but also tyranny. During the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods, our Mohist school drew its sword to punish tyranny several times and even eliminated tyranny, but it failed to save the world. We have pondered for a hundred years and concluded that using violence to control violence is not the right way. The right way may be through political thought. In this world, which political thought is the right way? I do not know. But now Confucianism has become a tyranny, so I am willing to draw my sword to punish the corrupt Confucian scholars. I hope you will come out of seclusion to govern and not forget the matter of punishing tyranny."

"In accordance with the Grand Master's will!"

The sounds of the crowd resonated throughout the mountains and valleys.

(End of this chapter)