Chapter 120: Drawing the Bow

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Master Xiao’s expression faltered as he looked at the dozen or so stones that had crossed the finish line, his face now filled with puzzlement. Meanwhile, the scholars in the arena immediately burst into cheers, with Kong Zong even standing up. On the faces of Song Mu and a dozen others, joy was evident.

The most surprised were those scholars who had no idea what had truly happened. Just moments ago, they felt their literary power could barely move the stones even a meter forward, but the next instant, their literary energy seemed divinely empowered, propelling those stones suddenly and swiftly past the line.

Among them, Xue Kaiwen was particularly perplexed. His gaze swept across Song Mu and the others, noting that their stones remained motionless. After a brief moment of thought, a faint smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

Seeing this, Song Mu smiled inwardly as he observed the look of astonishment on Master Xiao’s face. This was Song Mu’s strategy: since Master Xiao liked to use his literary power to drag the stones held by everyone, with so many people involved, he would inevitably be distracted. By exerting force at one point, it would be easier to divert his attention.

The result was that while those exerting the force remained still, the stones of those acting independently easily crossed the line.

Though subtle, this was enough for everyone to feel they had scored a point against the master.

After a brief moment of excitement, the crowd gradually quieted, all eyes turning toward Master Xiao. He stroked the two tufts of his mustache, his gaze sweeping repeatedly over Song Mu and the others.

In his two years of teaching, this was the first time Master Xiao had encountered such a situation. His literary power should not have been so easily detected by these students. How had they suddenly become so united? Could it be that these few truly understood the few lines of the Analects he had just quoted?

“Master, we’ve done it. What comes next?” A restless voice broke the silence, full of hope.

Master Xiao snapped back to reality, exhaled, blinked, then his expression suddenly hardened as he spoke:

“Those stones that passed, continue running laps today and push stones!”

Song Mu breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing this. Those who had already pushed their stones past the line immediately stood up and protested, only to be met with a fierce gust of wind that silenced them.

Master Xiao exuded a strong gust, and though his literary power was released only briefly before being withdrawn, it immediately choked off everyone’s breath.

“Do you think you pushed those stones across by your own strength?”

Everyone faltered, bowing their heads in thought. Master Xiao then pointed at Song Mu and the others:

“They passed. You all, start over!”

Dejected, the others picked up the sandbags from the ground. Xue Kaiwen’s expression was particularly puzzled, tinged with frustration, but he still readied himself to run, casting a subtle glance toward Song Mu’s group.

“Good thing. I almost thought we were just doing them a favor,” Kong Zong whispered nearby. Song Mu kept a neutral expression, lowering his eyes to continue restoring his literary power.

Although they had passed this first challenge, it was clear Master Xiao had not let them off lightly.

Sure enough, as the scholars began running again, Master Xiao instructed his assistant, a fellow scholar, to retrieve something. Shortly after, Song Mu saw the scholar approaching with Xie Jiaguo, carrying a large wooden box.

The box was placed before everyone, and Master Xiao gestured for all to gather around.

At that moment, Xie Jiaguo quietly approached Song Mu and whispered:

“Senior Brother Song, Mr. Feng Ming said he wants to see you tonight.”

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Song Mu was momentarily stunned but remained composed, nodding silently. Xie Jiaguo then quickly left.

As the crowd stepped forward, Master Xiao opened the wooden box to reveal a collection of longbows.

Such fine weapons were now laid out before everyone, eliciting exclamations of surprise. Master Xiao, however, acted as if this were routine, motioning for each person to take a bow. Song Mu received one as well.

Though the bows resembled the Tang dynasty bows Song Mu had seen in museums, they incorporated elements of the recurve bow design. The bowstrings were made from ox sinew and appeared well maintained, feeling smooth to the touch.

“The six arts of the gentleman include archery, which you must all learn,” Master Xiao’s voice rang softly in their ears. “Archery consists of five types: ‘White Arrow,’ ‘Three Consecutive,’ ‘Sharp Target,’ ‘Crossbow Measure,’ and ‘Well Gauge.’ Today, we begin with the White Arrow, which means the arrowhead pierces the target clearly. Normally, the arrowhead is visible; you will see the hole it makes.”

Master Xiao stepped before them, holding a bow and arrow.

“Your task is to draw the bow one hundred times every day. Failure means you cannot leave the martial arts arena.”

“This should not be difficult for you, but…” Master Xiao’s eyes narrowed slightly, making everyone sense impending trouble.

“I have only one requirement: these bows and arrows must not be drawn empty. Each arrow must be shot with real effect.”

Everyone was stunned by this. Song Mu found it hard to believe his ears and repeatedly looked down at the single longbow in his hands.

“Master, where are the arrows?” someone cautiously asked.

Master Han’s face broke into a triumphant smile, revealing white teeth as he dug into his robes.

“These are your arrows.”

He held up a stack of white paper and tapped it. The crowd’s expressions shifted dramatically.

“Paper arrows?” they thought in disbelief.

Most among them, though some from wealthy families had grown up with bows and swords, were handling this weapon for the first time.

Master Xiao, however, spoke as if it were natural:

“Yes, these are your arrows. As for what poems you wish to write, that is up to you.”

“Also, if you draw and release empty once, you must practice ten more times today. Otherwise, you will sleep here in the arena with your bow.”

His words made everyone shudder inexplicably, exchanging uneasy glances.

Though they had roughly learned to use and release literary power in martial lessons over the past days, nobody expected that after just seven days, they would have to propel paper arrows with literary power—one hundred sheets of paper—and draw the bow to transform them into arrows.

This made some wonder if they had pushed too far and if Master Xiao was venting his frustrations on them.

“Stop dawdling. Since the founding of the Wen dynasty, scholars first learn to wield the longbow and shoot arrows in battle, then move on to the spear, sword, and finally short blades,” Master Xiao said forcefully, his face tinged with anger. Song Mu remained silent.

Indeed, this was an unwritten rule of the Wen dynasty. Scholars, as the elite fighting force of humanity, learned archery first to keep them away from the front lines and avoid reckless loss of life—a waste of valuable talent.

Still, Song Mu stepped forward and gently asked:

“Master, could you please demonstrate how to use the longbow?”

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Upon hearing Song Mu’s request, the others nodded in agreement. Master Xiao exhaled deeply and picked up a bow, stepping forward.

Next, he drew out a sheet of paper. From somewhere appeared a fine brush, which danced fluidly over the paper. Then, with his left hand holding the bow and his right hand clutching the paper, he plucked the bowstring.

“Draw the bow with strength, use the arrow with vigor;
To hit a man, first shoot the horse; to capture a thief, first capture the leader.”

As Master Xiao recited softly, Song Mu raised his eyebrows in surprise. The poem was Du Fu’s “Nine Poems on the Frontier, No. 6,” a classic battle poem for archers.

In the military, this poem was often recited by archers as the battle formation unfolded. Its brisk rhythm and clarity made it resemble a chant or proverb, describing the sequence of combat steps.

As the poem’s voice faded, the paper gradually vanished, transforming into a shining arrow that attached itself to Master Xiao’s bow.

At the end of his words, Master Xiao spread his fingers, and the bowstring emitted a sharp whistle as the light arrow shot forward.

At one hundred meters, the target exploded with a thunderous crash, scattering fragments and dust into the air, drawing the attention of all present.

“Xiao Xiong! Who told you to draw your bow that hard?” a commanding voice scolded. It was another master.

Xiao Xiong showed no fear and glared back defiantly.

“Mind your own business! No one got hurt!”

The instructor’s face darkened in anger but could only grumble as he ordered his students to keep their distance.

Song Mu and the others could not help but click their tongues in awe, thoroughly impressed. This demonstration was not just a lesson—it was a warning shot.

“That’s enough talk. Get moving immediately!” Master Xiao commanded.

The crowd sprang into action, each taking paper and beginning to write archery poems.

Before long, some began igniting their paper and drawing their bows.

However, before the light arrow could form, one suddenly released the bowstring prematurely.

“Empty shot! Ten more times for you! If the bow breaks, you pay!” Master Xiao’s voice rang out.

The person’s face darkened with frustration but could only sigh.

“This bowstring is really hard to pull.”

Song Mu looked at the longbow in his hand, remaining silent.

On the other side, the scholars who had finished their laps continued pushing stones, while Song Mu’s group wore solemn expressions as they began writing poems and drawing bows.

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