Martial Cultivator

As time passed, the number of scholarly families remaining in Changban Commandery dwindled, and most of those were already in decline. This was because they could not leave, not because they did not wish to.

Yet in reality, even those scholarly families that moved away found that the younger generation in their households still failed to achieve success elsewhere. It was as if, although the people had left, their roots remained here, making it hard to truly sever ties with this place.

Later, a saying of unknown origin began to circulate, claiming that the scholars of Changban Commandery could not succeed because they were inherently at odds with the Great Liang Dynasty. If they wished to change their circumstances, they could only wait for the Great Liang Dynasty to fall and for a new dynasty to be established, at which point a reversal might be possible.

Such rumors were far too dangerous. Even if many scholars privately thought this way, it was absolutely impossible for them to voice it aloud.

Because of this, even the prefectural authorities began paying much closer attention to Changban Commandery.

The commandery troops stationed here were twice the number of those in other commanderies.

One could not afford to be careless.

Scholars appeared to have no strength to bind a chicken, yet at certain crucial junctures they often occupied an extremely important role. Back when the academies were first built and Confucian scholars were gathered together to form the Confucian holy land, their relationship with successive dynasties had been good, but it had never reached the level of integration seen today.

The one who promoted this matter happened to be a scholar from Changban Commandery. His surname was Dong, and he came from the Dong Family of Changban Commandery. He submitted a proposal to His Majesty the Emperor of the time, titled Policy on the Selection of the Worthy and the Capable. Once this proposal was presented, it shook the world. That scholar surnamed Dong was invited to the Imperial Capital, where he held discussions with His Majesty the Emperor for three days and nights without pause, even sharing meals and sleeping quarters. Afterward, His Majesty the Emperor appointed this scholar surnamed Dong as the State Chancellor, entrusting him to negotiate with the academy.

At the time, the academy Dean and Chancellor Dong played several games of Go, each winning and losing in turn. During these games, the two engaged in fierce debate. In the end, the academy dean grew more and more astonished as the games progressed, and exclaimed with emotion, “Among the scholars of the world, I am not at the forefront. I can only see Chancellor Dong’s back from afar.”

One had to know that throughout the ages, the deans of the academy were acknowledged by scholars across the realm as the people with the greatest learning. Yet for the academy dean of that generation to utter such a lament was enough to show just how profound the learning of that scholar surnamed Dong truly was.

Later, that academy dean even wished to step aside and yield the position to this scholar surnamed Dong, who had never studied at the academy, letting him serve as the academy dean instead. However, the scholar surnamed Dong declined.

From that time onward, scholars throughout the realm all knew that the person with the greatest learning under heaven was not the academy dean, but this Chancellor Dong.

Chancellor Dong governed the state for a full sixty-year cycle. The four seas were at peace, the world was tranquil. Afterward, he withdrew from public life and passed away peacefully at the end of his natural span.

During that sixty-year cycle, Chancellor Dong also left behind many classic works. Among the most famous, such as Luxuriant Dew of the Spring and Autumn Annals and Three Strategies on Heaven and Man, are still regarded as classics by scholars across the realm to this day.

That scholar surnamed Dong was moreover revered as Master Dong.

From then on, the scholars of Changban Commandery all set up incense tablets for Chancellor Dong in their homes, worshipping him generation after generation, regarding him as the most outstanding figure among the scholars of Changban Commandery.

The Dong Family, in that dynasty, enjoyed boundless imperial favor.

Chen Chao had read a fair amount, though not excessively. This kind of story, known to nearly every scholar, was something he was hearing for the first time. After hearing it, he felt a bit curious, and thus decided to make a visit to the Master Dong Shrine in Changban Commandery.

The Master Dong Shrine had been ordered built by that emperor after Chancellor Dong’s death. Enormous stones were transported from Xinliu Prefecture in the north. It was said that after the stones were delivered to Changban Commandery, the emperor hesitated for some time over where to locate the Master Dong Shrine. But soon someone reported that once the stones reached a spot more than ten miles beyond the eastern gate of Changban Commandery, they could go no farther. The reigning emperor immediately took this as Master Dong’s will, and so built the Master Dong Shrine on the spot, allocating funds each year for its repair and upkeep.

Afterward, dynasties changed and the years flowed on. Many surnames occupied the dragon throne, yet no emperor ever destroyed this place.

Even the Great Liang Dynasty, which did not believe in gods and ghosts, showed the Master Dong Shrine the utmost respect.

After all, if not for Master Dong’s great deeds back then, the scholars of the present dynasty would likely not choose to enter officialdom, but would instead shut themselves away to delve deeply into learning.

Chen Chao quietly arrived before the Master Dong Shrine and looked up. In truth, the shrine was not very large. There was a single main gate, wide enough for only two people to enter side by side. The plaque above the gate, bearing the three characters “Master Dong Shrine,” was written by a calligrapher of that era, with considerable strength in the brushwork.

In the days when Changban Commandery of the previous dynasty had many scholars, this place was naturally thick with incense offerings. Especially each year before scholars set out for the capital to take the examinations, the incense here was at its peak, with a steady stream of scholars coming and going.

At the present time, it was actually about when Great Liang’s autumn examination candidates should be setting out. Yet at this moment, the Master Dong Shrine was exceedingly desolate.

When Chen Chao walked into the shrine, he found that in the incense burner ahead, there were only a few scattered sticks of incense that had burned down completely.

By their number, they were not many.

On each side stood a camphor tree of no small age. Fallen leaves lay on the ground, and no one had come to sweep them.

Chen Chao stood to one side for the better part of half a day, and only saw three groups come by. Each group had just two or three people. Two of the groups were elderly Confucian scholars, their hair at the temples already white, while the remaining group was somewhat younger.

However, all of them merely hurried over to burn a single stick of incense here, then hurried away again.

As if coming here was only to put their own hearts at ease, not necessarily because they were sincere.

As for why they were not sincere, the reason was simple: they no longer believed that Master Dong could still bless them.

And as for why they still came despite not believing, it was nothing more than hoping for that so-called sliver of chance - like a blind cat stumbling upon a dead mouse.

Only after these few groups had all left did Chen Chao step into the great hall of the Master Dong Shrine.

The great hall was still not large, and somewhat dim. The candles around it had all burned down completely. In the past, when the incense offerings here were flourishing, people would voluntarily maintain the place. But times had changed. The authorities no longer concerned themselves with such matters, and so things naturally came to this state.

At the very center stood a statue of Master Dong. It was not especially tall. The statue was carved from a massive block of stone, and even now showed hardly any trace of the passage of time, allowing one to clearly see Master Dong’s bearing from several hundred years ago.

On both sides of the statue of Master Dong, there was a row of bookshelves each. Here, the marks of time were especially obvious. Only a few scattered volumes were placed on them. Presumably, in years past both sides had been filled with books, but now most of them were nowhere to be found.

A scholar in a green robe, washed until it had faded somewhat pale, stood before one of the shelves, leafing through an old book.

Chen Chao glanced toward that scholar. The latter seemed to sense someone looking at him, raised his head, and gave Chen Chao a faint smile.

Chen Chao returned the smile.

Looking closely at the scholar’s appearance, he could only be described as fairly handsome. His build was thin. But his arms were rather long; almost hanging down to his knees.