The low-key prince summons trainees from the Imperial Household Department at the start of the game.

Kong Yan has been sitting in the study of the Grand Tutor's mansion for thirty years.

For the past thirty years, the furnishings in this study have remained almost unchanged.

A row of rosewood bookshelves lined the east wall, filled with rare or unique books.

Hanging on the west wall is a painting titled "Landscape in Mist and Rain," the final work of a renowned painter from a previous dynasty.

Beneath the south window sits a large huanghuali wood desk, on which lies a well-furnished copy of "The Analects of Confucius," its pages always turned to the brim.

The only thing that changed was the wick in the oil lamp on the desk, which was replaced one after another, like the only thing in this mansion that could not be kept.

At this moment, there was something unusual lying on the table.

A blank sheet of Xuan paper, on which is written a poem.

The paper was sent by Zhao, the Vice Minister of the Ministry of Personnel, this morning. He said it was a new poem that had been making headlines in the capital recently.

Kong Yan had been staring at the paper for almost half an hour, turning the black jade prayer beads in his hand round and round, without saying a word.

The old servant who had served him for twenty years peeked out from outside the door several times, but dared not come in to add tea.

Those familiar with the old Grand Tutor knew that the slower he turned his prayer beads, the more important the matter was on his mind.

"The flowers have faded, leaving only small green apricots. When the swallows fly, green waters surround the houses..."

Kong Yan recited the first stanza in a low voice, pausing slightly when he reached the line "Where on earth are there no fragrant grasses?" He shook his head and chuckled.

The laughter contained admiration, emotion, and a complex feeling that even he himself couldn't quite explain.

He recited the second stanza, but when he reached the line "The affectionate are troubled by the heartless," he fell silent, staring at the last seven characters for a long time.

"Grand Tutor." A respectful voice came from outside the door, "His Highness has arrived."

Kong Yan gently placed the Xuan paper back on the table, took off his reading glasses and placed them beside the paper: "Please come in."

When the eldest prince, Zhou Cong, pushed open the door and entered, he still carried the scent of ink from the Ministry of Revenue.

He was observing government affairs in the cabinet today when he heard the Minister of Revenue and the Minister of Works arguing for a full hour about the allocation of funds for next year's grain transport.

Feeling dizzy and disoriented, he went straight to the Grand Tutor's residence after the meeting.

He had expected another arduous lesson on the classics, but he found that Kong Yan had not prepared the classics and lecture notes as usual.

Instead, he sat behind his desk, holding a blank sheet of Xuan paper with poems copied on it, lost in thought.

"Greetings to the Grand Tutor." Zhou Cong bowed respectfully, his gaze naturally falling on the paper on the desk. "What is the Grand Tutor looking at?"

"Here's a poem for you to take a look at." Kong Yan handed over the paper without saying anything more.

Zhou Cong took the paper with both hands, glanced at it casually at first, and then his gaze seemed to be stuck to the paper, unable to look away.

He read it once, then again, and on the third reading, his lips moved slightly as he silently recited those sentences.

"Swings inside the wall, paths outside; passersby outside, beautiful women laughing inside."

He read very slowly, as if savoring a fine wine, lingering over each drop on his tongue before swallowing.

"Su Shi." Zhou Cong finally raised his head, his tone carrying a complex and indescribable tone, "It's him again."

The two poems he composed at the banquet for the third-ranked scholar had already made him a sensation in the literary world of the capital, and the jade pendant given to him by the eldest prince made this story known throughout the city.

Unexpectedly, not long after that, he produced another masterpiece.

"The first stanza of this poem describes the scene at the end of spring, with faded flowers, swallows flying over green water, and willow catkins and fragrant grasses—all common images."

"But once the line 'There are fragrant grasses everywhere under the sky' is uttered, the entire poem's structure suddenly becomes clear and open, no longer lamenting the passing of spring and the coming of autumn, but rather displaying a magnanimous and expansive spirit."

"The second stanza is even more wonderful: the beauty inside the wall laughs, while the passerby outside is annoyed. Separated by a wall, there are two worlds, which fully expresses the bittersweet feeling of wanting but not getting in life."

Kong Yan spoke slowly, picked up his teacup, took a sip to moisten his throat, and said, "What's even more remarkable is that the meter is perfect without being obvious, and the allusions are natural without being ostentatious. This kind of writing already has the spirit of a great Confucian scholar."

Zhou Cong put down the paper, his expression subtly shifting.

He naturally understood the unspoken meaning behind the Grand Tutor's words.

It is extremely rare for the Grand Tutor to praise someone's work so highly, especially since that person is a commoner scholar without any official rank.

He thought for a moment, carefully choosing his words, and said, "This person is indeed exceptionally talented. I had the pleasure of meeting him once at the banquet for the third-ranked scholar, and at that time I felt that he was no ordinary person, but..."

"Just what?"

"But I always feel that Su Shi's talent is too high, so high that it is... unlike that of an ordinary traveling scholar."

Zhou Cong raised his head and looked at Kong Yan with a frank gaze. "I have seen many talented people. Every year, the Imperial Academy has outstanding talents recommended from all over the country. But I have never seen anyone as talented as Su Shi, whose talent is so overwhelming that it is almost impossible to suppress."

"Grand Tutor, you know the quality of this poem better than I do. The person who can write such a poem is no ordinary person."

Kong Yan nodded slightly, a hint of approval flashing in his eyes.

The Crown Prince's words show that he no longer judges people and things based solely on appearances.

This keen insight is more important than poetry and songs.

He set down his teacup, then suddenly changed the subject, adopting a serious expression: "Since Your Highness has mentioned Su Shi, this old minister has something he would like to discuss with you."

"Does Your Highness know the fundamental difference between literary and martial cultivation in our Great Zhou Dynasty?"

Zhou Cong sat up straight, knowing that the Grand Tutor was about to get to the point: "Please enlighten me, Grand Tutor."

"The path of martial arts cultivation from Foundation Establishment to the Ninth Rank involves tempering one's blood and qi, and honing one's muscles and bones."

"As long as you have the right techniques, perseverance, and resources, even someone with mediocre talent can climb the ranks step by step through hard work."

"The Second Prince entered the fourth rank at the age of sixteen, relying on the Grand Commandant's techniques and years of hard training. This is the path of martial arts cultivation: the threshold is low, but the ceiling is also low."

"But once you reach the sixth rank or above, every step forward becomes incredibly difficult, and many people spend their entire lives stuck at the fifth or sixth rank, unable to climb any higher."

Kong Yan paused, then emphasized slightly, "But literary cultivation is different. The first three ranks of literary cultivation are almost entirely focused on cultivating qi, reading the books of sages and cultivating a righteous and noble spirit."

"This stage seems useless; you can neither fight nor defend. A first-rank scholar is not much different from an ordinary scholar."

"Therefore, many people who are eager for quick success and instant benefits look down on literary cultivation, feeling that it is not as practical as martial cultivation."

Zhou Cong nodded.

He himself was a third-rank scholar, and he deeply understood what the Grand Tutor was saying.

In the palace, the second brother entered the fourth rank at the age of sixteen. On the hunting ground, he killed a tiger with a single spear, and all the military officers in the court cheered.

His elder brother, who had read countless books and cultivated a strong sense of righteousness for over a decade, was seen by others as nothing more than a scholar who could write a few articles.

It would be a lie to say he wasn't disappointed, but he never wavered.

There was one thing he kept to himself and never asked: he had been stuck at the third rank for a long time. Despite having a strong sense of righteousness in his heart, he could never find the opportunity to break through.

He had a vague feeling that a key was missing.

"But from the fourth rank onwards, literary cultivation and martial cultivation become completely different."

Kong Yan's voice was calm and unhurried, but every word was resounding: "Civilians of the fourth rank and above may release their righteous aura outwards."

"It's not about using brute force to hurt people like martial arts practitioners, but about drawing upon the vast and righteous energy of heaven and earth to empower oneself and deter external evils."

"A policy essay can quell the raging public opinion in the court, an imperial edict can appease disaster victims thousands of miles away, and a poem can even disrupt the morale of enemy warriors on the battlefield."

"When Emperor Taizu launched his northern expedition, Wenxiu, who was with the army, recited the 'Proclamation to Punish the Hu' on the battlefield, and his righteous spirit soared to the sky."

"Several enemy generals coughed up blood on the spot, causing chaos in the army's morale. This is the power of Wenxiu."

Zhou Cong listened with a surge of emotions, but what he cared about most was still that question.