Chapter 24: Righteous Integrity

So, it turned out that the proper way to approach the so-called works of the sages was like this—

‘Damn, what’s this? What is it? What’s so great about it? Just a few battered books—do they really think it’s the words of the sages?

They’re wedged so tight, how am I supposed to get through!’

...

Thus, He Chang’an entered a strange space.

This space was somewhat like a study, but because there were so many books, it resembled those ancient libraries he once visited—bookshelves rising to the vaulted ceiling were stuffed with all manner of old tomes, as if rows of ancient faces gazed coldly at He Chang’an.

Forced to look up, he felt oppressed.

Standing on the floor, he glanced around and found that he hadn’t even heard of the majority of these books...

The lettering on the spines was archaic, but to his surprise, He Chang’an could recognize them instantly.

‘What kind of place is this?’ he wondered silently.

“This is not some haunted place, but the Sanctuary,” a powerful voice suddenly boomed, nearly making He Chang’an stumble.

‘Damn, it knows what I’m thinking—is this mind reading?’

“You hardly need your mind read,” the grand voice snorted with contempt.

“Fine, let’s just talk directly,” He Chang’an conceded. “Show yourself, scholar. I don’t like sneaky, cryptic types...”

“Are you sure, boy?” the imposing voice asked.

“I’m sure.”

‘What, am I supposed to be afraid of you?’

“Very well, I’ll come out. But from now on, don’t go around calling yourself ‘Laozi’,” the voice said coldly. “That name is forbidden.”

“‘Laozi’ is taboo?”

He Chang’an was startled, then understood: to Confucian scholars, ‘Laozi’ referred to the Grand Master of the Supreme Purity—truly a forbidden name...

But wait, do scholars curse?

That’s not logical.

“You ignorant brat, clearly lacking culture. Who says scholars don’t curse? How else can you persuade with reason or virtue?”

Amid the thunderous voice, a shadowy figure gradually took shape, appearing before He Chang’an.

‘Good lord, so tall and formidable—so upright and strong... This is a scholar?’

The gradually solidifying image left He Chang’an wide-eyed and speechless. Only after a while did he react: “Damn!”

Broad forehead, high nose, square mouth with a handsome beard, dressed in azure robes and tall hat, over eight feet tall, a five-foot-long sword hanging at his waist, muscular arms reaching to his knees...

Tang Dynasty measure: one foot is approximately thirty-one centimeters.

The two key words: tough and handsome!

“Boy, what’s wrong with scholars?” The tough and handsome scholar leaned in, radiating authority without anger, making it hard for He Chang’an to breathe.

“Are you really a scholar?” He Chang’an asked, bewildered.

“Scholar? Heh, I once was. Now, the books read me,” the man chuckled, his sharp gaze seeming to pierce He Chang’an.

“Don’t mutter under your breath, alright? I can’t stand your cowardly ways. Since you’ve entered the book, you should have a scholar’s backbone. You don’t measure up...”

He looked He Chang’an up and down with disdain and continued, “My name is Righteous Vitality; you can call me Brother Hao.”

‘I could call you Uncle Hao...’ He Chang’an thought.

“Alright, then call me Uncle Hao. Hmm, you’re young, look decent, but too effeminate...

Damn it, in thousands of years, it’s the first time I’ve seen a scholar like this. No culture, but that can be fixed in minutes...

Worst of all, you’ve even been possessed by a ghost!

Intolerable!”

‘Uncle Hao’ sighed dramatically, lamenting.

“Uncle Hao... do you have any powerful abilities?” He Chang’an asked cautiously.

This ‘Uncle Hao’ was surely the Righteous Vitality from the books—after countless ages and the blessing of the sages’ works, he’d become a so-called ‘book spirit’...

“What abilities would I need? Just reason with my opponent.” Uncle Hao waved dismissively. “Anyone who opposes a scholar must be ready to be persuaded.”

“Reason... What if the opponent is strong, then what?” He Chang’an inquired.

“Aren’t you a scholar? Don’t even know how to reason? How did you get into the book?” Uncle Hao seemed surprised, scrutinizing He Chang’an, annoyance creeping in.

“Well, I...” Sensing danger, He Chang’an hurried to explain.

Then, his eye socket was struck by a fist.

Stars exploded in his vision, blood pouring from his nose, as if he’d opened a dye shop—red, yellow, blue, green, purple, all at once.

“Damn, why are you hitting me? A gentleman argues with words...”

A loud thud, and his mouth was hit again, forcing the rest of his words back down.

He Chang’an squinted, blood streaming from his mouth, feeling his molars loosening, and shouted angrily, “...not with fists!”

Completing his previous sentence.

Thud, thud, thud...

Uncle Hao said nothing, pinning He Chang’an to the ground, rubbing him furiously...

‘Good lord, it turns out scholars truly reason with their fists, not their mouths...’ He Chang’an realized, struggling fiercely.

He clawed, grabbed, kicked, tore, bit, and threw in punches, kicks, knees, elbows, and headbutts;

Small joint locks, silk-winding hands, groin kicks, dragon bagua claws, scooping the moon from the sea, monkey picking peaches... he used every trick he knew.

Whatever worked, he did!

...

Half an hour later.

Uncle Hao rose from He Chang’an, straightened his robe, tidied his ruffled hair and handsome beard, spat on the ground, and said, “Good lord, that was satisfying!”

He Chang’an was left battered, groaning, taking a long time to climb up off the floor.

It hurt, truly hurt—but it was exhilarating.

After this bout, he gained many insights, most importantly, the so-called Righteous Vitality of the scholar—it left him a bit weak...

Just a bit.

‘So, the reason those scholars outside revere the works of the sages but never truly enter the gates, each generation weaker than the last...

Is it because they’re filled with reverence?’

It was a bit of a tongue-twister, almost a paradox.

But in truth, after his life-and-death struggle with ‘Uncle Hao’, He Chang’an felt much stronger, as if a mysterious current of Righteous Vitality had emerged within him...

At the same time, as he grew, Uncle Hao’s aura diminished a little.

“How is it, brat?” Uncle Hao stroked his beard with a smile, leaning in.

“The sages say, establish merit, virtue, and words...” He Chang’an was racking his brain, searching for a logical explanation.

Thud—

A punch to the forehead and a kick to the abdomen.

This time, Uncle Hao seemed truly angry, striking harder and more recklessly, unconcerned whether his ‘student’ would survive.

‘Damn, again!’

He Chang’an was furious.

So, after another hour...