Chapter Seventeen: Literary Combat Masters, Realm Creators, and Realm Breakers

Song Mu was not a person who repaid every slight with vengeance, but when faced with someone who had repeatedly opposed him, he would never pretend to possess such magnanimity. Naturally, he would not show any mercy.

Pan Wenhao had challenged him to a wager, and Song Mu simply accepted.

As for whether he could pass the exam and become a Xiucai, Song Mu had already made up his mind. After all, with the new method of mnemonic cultivation from the ancient texts, he had gained a great advantage in memorization. Song Mu would not claim to remember everything with absolute certainty, but it was undoubtedly his secret weapon for the academy examination.

Moreover, as a graduate student specializing in Chinese language and literature, while he might not surpass the ancients in classical argumentation, his insights had been recognized by his mentors—these were assets as well.

Besides, his ambition was far greater than becoming a mere Xiucai. The title was only the beginning; he aspired to bring glory back to the Song family, to reclaim the honors that once belonged to them.

A vast ambition surged within Song Mu’s chest.

Soon, news of Song Mu’s wager with Pan Wenhao spread throughout the county school. Some felt Pan Wenhao was overly arrogant, while others thought Song Mu himself was rather rebellious.

In any case, when all was considered, many thought the bet was nothing but child’s play. To become a Xiucai required gathering one’s literary aura into literary force, no easy feat. In each academy examination in Shiyang County, only a handful managed to accomplish this. Both Song Mu and Pan Wenhao had only been Tongsheng scholars for two or three years; perhaps the real outcome would be that both would fail.

After all, they were still young, and only those who had undergone the ordeal of the academy exam could understand its true difficulty.

The teachers who guided the Xiucai held such thoughts, but the Tongsheng scholars and other students attending classes did not see it that way. They found the whole affair highly entertaining. Some mischievous Tongsheng even quietly started betting on who would win or lose.

After agreeing to the wager, Song Mu paid Pan Wenhao no further mind. Instead, he found an opportunity to seek advice on essays from a Xiucai instructor at the county school, accompanied by Kong Zong.

The subjects for the upcoming examination had been announced long ago by both Master Xun and the instructors to all the Tongsheng. Yet, when it came to how to tackle the questions, how to craft an excellent essay, classical arguments, poetry, and policy debate—where exactly their weaknesses lay—Song Mu and his peers still felt at a loss.

The person Song Mu and Kong Zong sought out was a stipend student within the county school. He had gathered literary force and become a Xiucai at the age of nineteen, and after three years of diligent study, was only now preparing for the Juren exam.

Naturally, such a person’s abilities were not to be underestimated, and Song Mu had come to him for this very reason.

“Instructor Sun, I have written two essays on classical arguments in recent days. I hope you will take a look and offer your critique.”

Sun Fang was a young man with thick brows and large eyes, of medium height, gentle in manner, dressed in a faded indigo robe. He was reviewing his books in a small room when Song Mu and Kong Zong came to seek guidance. He immediately rose to open the door and welcome them.

Sun Fang had also been inspired by the literary aura of Song Mu’s recent rhapsody, feeling that he now had hope for the upcoming provincial exam. Seeing Song Mu, he was naturally quite amicable.

“All right, Brother Song, Brother Kong, please find a seat. Just call me Brother Sun. Let me have a look at your essays first.”

With these words, Sun Fang took their essays and sat down to read them attentively, his expression intensely focused.

Song Mu and Kong Zong found two stools and sat down, taking the opportunity to study Sun Fang. His clothes and shoes were patched; the brushes on his desk were worn out, and even his paper and inkstone were of the roughest sort, a clear sign of his family’s poverty.

But from humble homes come the brightest scholars.

Sun Fang had a remarkable grasp of essay interpretation. Even the notoriously strict Master Xun praised him highly and encouraged the Tongsheng to seek his counsel, saying his views were the most insightful and easiest to understand, greatly benefiting the students.

With such an excellent mentor, Song Mu and Kong Zong naturally gained much.

Before long, Sun Fang finished reading their essays, but his brows furrowed.

“Brother Kong’s essay is quite elegant, and his approach to interpreting the classics is excellent. If this were the academy exam, he could easily earn a top score.”

Sun Fang spoke softly, but his gaze turned to Song Mu.

“But Brother Song’s essay leaves me rather puzzled.”

Hearing this, Song Mu quickly stood up to receive his guidance. Both essays had been composed using his memories and current knowledge from recent days.

Yet, he still carried too many modern ideas, and some concepts lacked proper classical sources, which made Sun Fang somewhat baffled.

For this, Song Mu was eager to learn; after all, to progress, he had to adapt to the ways of the era. Sometimes, his overly advanced notions were nothing more than castles in the air, sure to bring him to ruin.

Seeing Song Mu’s humble attitude, Sun Fang was moved and readily imparted all he knew.

Soon, Kong Zong left the room, quite satisfied with his essay, while Song Mu remained behind—he had other questions to ask.

“Instructor Sun, do scholars possess only literary force within them? Or is there also a power of spirit or mind?”

Song Mu raised his query; the new mnemonic cultivation technique he had practiced the previous day had broadened his horizons, making him deeply curious.

But was it really as the ancestor had said—that in the past, only those of exceptional talent could begin such cultivation at the Xiucai level? Song Mu wanted to know the truth.

If mnemonic power could truly be cultivated at the Tongsheng level, the new method handed down by his forebear would be limitless in its potential.

Sun Fang was taken aback by Song Mu’s question, but assumed it was simply youthful longing for the Xiucai realm. He laughed and replied,

“Of course not; there is indeed a power of spirit, but not every scholar can cultivate it. Only those of extraordinary talent can, and it is called the power of thought.”

“And if one achieves it?” Song Mu, delighted, pressed further.

Sun Fang thought for a moment before answering, “A Xiucai with the power of spirit is stronger than one who possesses only literary force, and can accomplish much more.”

“Much more? What do you mean?” Song Mu asked eagerly.

“Scholars who possess mnemonic power can become Realm-Crafters. By using literary force to animate the imagery of poetry, and fusing it with mnemonic power, they can conjure an illusory realm, trapping their foes within. This is a great advantage in battle.”

“Realm-Crafter? Illusory realm?”

Song Mu recognized the term. He recalled how, the other day, Li Mo’er had instructed Brother Wang Xiwen to withdraw his illusory realm. The sudden appearance of the Pavilion of Prince Teng was precisely such a realm—did this mean Wang Xiwen was a Realm-Crafter?

Song Mu was startled, though he did not show it. Sun Fang continued,

“Ordinary scholars are called Literary Warriors—they use literary force to animate martial poems in combat. But those with mnemonic power are different. Besides being Realm-Crafters, there is an even rarer type, the Realm-Breaker, who can merge literary force with mnemonic power and, I’ve heard, can shatter another’s illusory realm.”

A Realm-Breaker?

Song Mu had come across another new term, and his heart pounded with excitement. To break another’s illusory realm—had he not done just that with the fox demon the previous day?

Song Mu quietly exhaled and, smiling, cupped his hands to Sun Fang.

“Thank you, Brother Sun, for your generous instruction. I am truly grateful.”

Sun Fang waved his hand with a smile.

“No need for thanks, Brother Song. You helped me greatly yesterday—I should be thanking you. It is my honor to resolve your doubts.”

Song Mu thanked him again, mentioning that they would go together to the prefectural city for the next exam and that he hoped Sun Fang would continue to guide his classical essays. With that, he took his leave.

Once outside, Song Mu could no longer contain his excitement.

The mnemonic cultivation method left by his ancestor was truly unparalleled—he could gain mnemonic power even at the Tongsheng level, and the ancient texts in his mind could fuse his literary aura with mnemonic power.

In the future, perhaps he would not only be a Literary Warrior, but also one of those wondrous Realm-Crafters, even a Realm-Breaker!