Chapter Twenty-Five: When the Flowers Fade... What Was It Again?

An hour later, a guest room in Weiyang Academy exploded.

With a loud bang, a burst of azure light surged upward, tearing off the entire roof. The walls of the two adjacent rooms cracked open, wide enough for an arm to fit through...

"Who dares to cause trouble at the academy?"

Amidst an unusually furious reprimand, Mr. Ma rushed over and was about to wield his ruler when he saw He Chang'an, grimy and disheveled, crawling out of the ruins.

"You, Head Constable He?"

Other scholars hurried over, staring at the disheveled He Chang'an with strange expressions, momentarily stunned.

His face was bruised, clothes tattered, mouth twitching, eyes... but these were not the main points!

The focus was on this illiterate, scoundrel, and rough warrior named He Chang'an—where did he get such a noble aura?

Majestic and powerful...

Pure, dominant, and robust, exuding the scholarly essence of righteousness and integrity, if not noble aura, then what could it be?

"Bah! Old man, you're cheating!" He Chang'an crawled out of the ruins, spat on the ground, and cursed indignantly.

Uncle Hao had initially enjoyed beating He Chang'an, but unexpectedly, He Chang'an secretly summoned the 'little black stick' of his spiritual sea...

In just a few breaths, Uncle Hao was drained.

If He Chang'an hadn't felt the pressure building in his dantian and worried about completely extinguishing the 'book spirit,' he would have likely ended Uncle Hao's life.

Thus, he resorted to underhanded tactics and blew up a book...

No wonder He Chang'an was indignant; he couldn't understand how the grand noble aura personally nurtured by the book spirit and Confucian sage could turn out to be this...

Heart black as coal!

There were so many questions he hadn't had the chance to ask, so many truths he hadn't had the chance to impart before being blown out of the texts by Uncle Hao.

"Head Constable He, what have you done?" Mr. Ma stepped forward, frowning.

"It's nothing, just had a scuffle with an old man," He Chang'an replied, starting to move bricks and dig, using both hands and feet like a groundhog...

Books—a hefty load of Confucian texts—were buried in the ruins.

"With whom did you scuffle?" Mr. Ma asked, puzzled.

He looked He Chang'an up and down, filled with confusion. How could this fellow possess such a rich and profound noble aura, even thicker than that of this old teacher...

Decades of diligent study of poetry and scriptures, sleepless nights over ancient texts.

For a scholar, cultivation is not just about talent; it relies on years of hard work. Without traversing through mountains of books and oiling the lamps late into the night, how could one possess noble aura?

He couldn't make sense of it.

"With someone who calls himself noble, cough, had a fight with the old noble," He Chang'an also realized the situation was a bit more complex.

He, a rough warrior and mere dregs of the food energy technique, somehow nurtured noble aura within him; if this got out, it would surely be shocking...

Moreover, according to Li Yishan's earlier words, there was a secret organization in the Tang Dynasty called the 'Demon Slaying Department,' which dealt with demons and also managed matters of practitioners. If it was determined that a practitioner had 'gone astray'...

The consequences would be unthinkable!

"Noble... old man? Which noble?" Mr. Ma's brows furrowed slightly, his eyes suddenly brightening as he asked eagerly, "Could it be... the great Tang poet Meng Xiangyang, Mr. Meng Haoran?"

"Not that one..."

"I don't know anyone named Meng Xiangyang or Meng Fanyang. He calls himself noble and sparred with me, then cheated and blew up my book..." He Chang'an used both hands and feet, quickly unearthing that bundle of books.

"Ah, fortunately, only one book was blown up."

He Chang'an lovingly brushed the dust off the book, carefully wiped it with his sleeve, and then organized it neatly, wrapping it tightly in a piece of blue floral cloth.

"..."

The scholars exchanged glances, unsure of how to interject.

This official, clearly practicing a rough warrior's food energy technique, yet somehow bore noble aura while being a bibliophile...

Had he gone astray?

At this thought, everyone felt a shiver.

As scholars, they often had to engage in 'oral exchanges' with the Confucian Academy and the civil service literati, thus they were well-versed in the laws of the Tang Dynasty.

The Tang Demon Slaying Department...

The scholars quickly shrank back, stepping back a couple of paces to maintain a distance from He Chang'an, fearing the people from the Demon Slaying Department might suddenly appear, and they wouldn't be able to explain themselves...

Only Mr. Ma stood still.

He merely frowned, his gaze flickering, lost in thought and calculation.

"Mr. Ma, esteemed scholars, I truly apologize for the explosion in your academy's guest room," He Chang'an said, shouldering the bundle and then awkwardly smiling, "How about I call my brothers from the quick-hand brigade to help you repair it? Anyway, I've been swindled out of all my money, so I can't compensate your academy."

As he spoke, He Chang'an began to walk away.

He sensed the atmosphere was a bit strange; the way these scholars looked at him was rather lecherous...

"Head Constable He, oh no, Mr. He, I still have a few questions to ask you," Mr. Ma suddenly smiled, gesturing for him to follow, "This way, please."

"I still have to..." He Chang'an started to protest, only to hear Mr. Ma's voice in his mind—Confucian minor divine ability, "Heart's Resonance."

"Mr. He, please don't decline, follow me. You've gotten yourself into big trouble."

"Huh? What big trouble? I haven't done anything."

"Done nothing? Then where did a mere warrior like you get noble aura? Don't put on airs, scholar."

"I'm a constable, a warrior, not some scholar!"

"Should I let the people from the Demon Slaying Department take a look?"

"You... I... they..."

"Shut up, follow me; I'll cover for you!"

...

Thus, an hour later, a shocking piece of news spread from Weiyang Academy:

He Chang'an, head of the quick-hand brigade at Weiyang County, was reading the Collected Works of Meng Haoran in the academy's library during the day. He was filled with righteous indignation over the calamities suffered by the common people, thus expressing his sentiments;

In the library, with the poetic heart of the great Tang poet Meng Xiangyang, he freely chose his master in front of everyone...

A brilliant light flashed suddenly and entered the chest of quick-hand He Chang'an!

Originally illiterate, idle, brawling, and unlearned, He Chang'an could now articulate beautifully and with eloquence.

This matter quickly became a celebrated story in Weiyang.

In light of this, the newly appointed head of Weiyang Academy, Mr. Ma, announced that he would accept disciples on behalf of his teacher, taking this fiery young man, recognized by the great poet Meng Haoran, as his closed-door disciple...

...

Hiding behind a screen in the lecture hall and sipping tea, He Chang'an listened as Mr. Ma spoke eloquently to the scholars outside, feeling ashamed and lowering his head...

Damn it, the mouths of scholars!

It was simply outrageous!

To emphasize the poet Meng Haoran, they belittled the previous 'He Chang'an' to being worthless and foul...

What troubled He Chang'an the most was this idea of eloquence and beautiful prose.

Meng Haoran, he knew, and could recite a few of the elderly man's poems; the problem was, what about the other poems?

'Spring slumber, not aware of dawn, everywhere the sound of chirping birds;

Last night's wind and rain, flowers fall... flowers fall, what was it again?'

It seemed the most pressing issue was to quickly find a copy of the Collected Works of Meng Haoran and burn the midnight oil to memorize the texts...