Chapter 46: Look Quickly—Xu Yewei’s Poem for the Silent Riddle!

The next day.

In the capital, the Imperial Academy.

Amid the sonorous sound of reading, righteous energy surged from the academy, piercing the clouds and settling upon the seal that hovered in the sky. The seal's radiance spread over the entire city, and those ghosts too slow to hide were instantly reduced to ashes with blood-curdling screams.

This was not unique to the capital; in cities hundreds or even thousands of miles away, similar scenes unfolded one after another.

The people of Daliang had long grown accustomed to it.

After all, for centuries, their mornings had always begun with the sound of scholars reciting and the shrieks of fleeing spirits.

“Thanks to the painstaking efforts of the Grand Libationer over these decades, the Imperial Academy now finally boasts three thousand disciples. We need no longer fear that the sacred light will ever be extinguished.”

“Indeed. It feels like just yesterday that we would patrol the city with books in hand, driving away evil.”

“Such days will not return.”

“Quite right. Daliang stands at the height of its resurgence; I doubt the Ghost Kingdom would dare invade now.”

“It is only a shame that the broken sword the Grand Libationer seeks has yet to reveal itself.”

“Do not worry—it will come in time.”

Under the cloisters of the academy, two instructors responsible for the morning lessons, master and son, strolled together, laughter and conversation echoing beneath the holy morning light.

“Master Qiu, Master Ye, here are the transcripts from yesterday’s talent gathering for the top three candidates.”

Just as they neared the end of the corridor, a student approached, carrying a stack of booklets.

“Thank you.”

Both nodded and each took a volume.

It was customary after such gatherings for transcripts to be delivered to the instructors.

“Masters, I’ll go deliver the rest to the others.”

“Go ahead.”

They nodded and, as they walked, began leafing through the transcripts.

Inside the records, besides the answers of the top three candidates for each round, there were also brief descriptions of the situations during the contests.

“Oh? That little Lin girl actually brought a ghost officer as her examination companion?”

Master Qiu’s expression grew awkward upon seeing that Lin Buyu’s companion was a ghost officer.

“To make it into the top three with a ghost officer for a companion—doesn’t that make it even more interesting?”

Master Ye seemed rather delighted by the notion, undisturbed by the presence of a ghost.

“I’m curious to see how that girl managed to get into the top three.”

Spurred by his colleague, Master Qiu’s interest was piqued. He sat down by a stone table, ready to carefully peruse the transcript.

“Hm?”

No sooner had he sat than he uttered a sound of surprise.

“What is it?”

Master Ye, also seated, cast a curious glance his way.

“Little Monk Zhiheng asked: When the wind stirs the tree’s shadow, is it the wind that moves, or the shadow? Do you know how Lin’s companion answered?”

Master Qiu looked at his colleague with delight.

“Zhiheng truly asked that? What did the companion say—wind or shadow?”

Instead of reading further, Master Ye asked directly.

“Her companion, Xu Ye, replied: ‘Neither the wind moves, nor the shadow. It is the benevolent whose heart is stirred.’”

Master Qiu’s face was full of admiration.

“The benevolent… their heart is moved!”

Master Ye was thunderstruck.

He had debated this very question with other instructors before, with no consensus—some argued the wind moved, others the shadow. So when he heard “the benevolent is stirred in heart,” it was as if a thunderbolt had struck, suddenly illuminating his mind.

“Brother Ye, this child’s skill at chess is also remarkable—look at this endgame! The lines are so intricate, it’s no wonder Master Ke couldn’t solve it.”

While Master Ye was still marveling at that philosophical answer, Master Qiu had already turned to the page on music and chess, and at once saw the life-and-death problem left by Xu Ye.

“An endgame? Wait, Xu Ye actually set the problem himself?!”

Still reeling from surprise, Master Ye quickly flipped to the page with the chess diagram.

“This…”

He wore the same astonished expression as Master Qiu.

“So that’s it. I thought as much—the girl is shrewd enough, she would never choose a random ghost officer for a companion.”

Then, after turning to the final round, Master Ye suddenly threw his head back and laughed heartily.

“It seems this little girl truly put her heart into this.”

Master Qiu nodded, agreeing with his assessment.

“She must have guessed that Xu Ye could help her win top marks in the first round. That way, even if he couldn’t write poetry or lyrics in the next two rounds, she could still pass on her own.”

Master Ye pressed his hand on the transcript and shared his deduction with a smile.

“Yes, you’re right. In the next round—the lyric composition—Lin Buyu faced it alone.”

Master Qiu nodded as he flipped through the transcript, but when he reached the painting section, his small eyes suddenly sparkled. He pressed down the page and gave Master Ye a sly grin.

“Guess who I saw in the list for the third round?”

“Who?”

Master Ye looked puzzled.

“Your disciple—Li Moyan.”

Master Qiu chuckled.

Master Ye started, then frowned and said, “What’s that boy doing at the talent gathering?”

Even as he spoke, he quickly flipped to the third contest in his booklet, and sure enough, there was Li Moyan’s name.

Yet what surprised and puzzled him more than seeing his own disciple’s name was that Li Moyan was ranked below Lin Buyu and Xu Ye.

“My student lost to Lin Buyu and a ghost officer?”

Master Ye stared at the list in disbelief, as if he’d seen a ghost himself.

It wasn’t that he looked down on Lin Buyu or Xu Ye—he simply knew his own disciple too well. In poetry and painting, Li Moyan’s accomplishments far surpassed his peers, showing the makings of a true master.

He knew Lin Buyu was talented, but compared to Li Moyan, she was not on the same level.

Still in shock, he quickly flipped ahead and saw Lin Buyu’s painting of the moonlit sea.

Though it was a reproduction by the academy’s artist, Master Ye’s discerning eye could still judge its merit.

“Lin Buyu’s ‘Moon Over the Sea’ does have some spirit to it, but in both technique and conception, it clearly doesn’t match Moyan’s work. How could Master Chunqiu place hers above his?”

His evaluation was fair—purely in terms of artistry, Lin Buyu was not Li Moyan’s equal.

“No… Moyan didn’t lose to Buyu’s painting, but to Xu Ye’s poem!”

At that moment, Master Qiu, having reached the poetry page, showed an expression of awe, his voice trembling.

“Look—look at the poem Xu Ye wrote for Buyu!”

He urged Master Ye, unable to contain his excitement.