Chapter Seventy-Six: The Arrival of Saint Du! (Subscription Requested!)

A radiant rainbow, brilliant and dazzling, arched from the far north across the clear sky, its colors even more resplendent under the glow of the setting sun. Upon that rainbow, a spectral figure glided forward, slow and stately. He was an elder of immortal bearing, dressed in an ash-grey robe, a scroll in hand and gently stroking his beard as he approached. Even as a mere shadow, his garments billowed majestically.

Before he came near, a gentle breeze seemed to rise from nowhere, sweeping through the entire city of Jizhou. In the blink of an eye, it dispelled the late summer heat, ushering in the cool of early autumn. The citizens, sensing the anomaly, grew excited. The scholars, who discerned the phenomenon in the sky, abandoned their folding fans and respectfully saluted the apparition above.

“It’s a Semi-Saint! A Semi-Saint has come! Welcome, Semi-Saint!”

Their voices rang out, and the people followed with cries of astonishment, falling to their knees en masse. In the realm of the Literary Dynasty, scholars reigned supreme; only scholars could command such reverence from the populace, and even more so when it was a Semi-Saint of the human race.

In three centuries of the Literary Dynasty, only Zhang Ce had ascended to sainthood and achieved the ultimate path; no other sage had emerged among mankind. There were now nine Semi-Saints, each wielding authority over the nine provinces, the pillars of the nation. No one could have imagined that today, a Semi-Saint’s apparition would stride through the sky and descend upon humble Jizhou.

At the north tower of the examination academy, Qiu Buchu and his fellow officials were already hovering in midair, hands respectfully folded and bodies bowed.

“Welcome, Saint Du!”

The officials spoke in trembling voices, their faces anxious. Suddenly, they recalled the tolling of the bronze bell that had accompanied the earlier anomaly. Who could have guessed that its sound would summon a Semi-Saint?

Qiu Buchu and Fan Zhengxiong were especially dumbfounded, finally understanding which poetic lineage Song Mu’s verse could be linked to—it was none other than Du Fu’s poetic sect, one of the two most powerful in the world.

The visitor was the patriarch of the Du family, its current Semi-Saint, Du Fu’s grandnephew, Du Keqin.

The rainbow beneath Du Keqin’s feet carried him to the assembled officials, who responded with a respectful greeting. With a wave of his hand, the apparition entered the north tower.

“Who composed the resonant poem?”

Du Keqin’s apparition landed and immediately spoke. Qiu Buchu stepped forward, answering with utmost deference.

“Saint Du, it was Song Mu from Shiyang County, a descendant of the Song family there.”

Du Keqin raised his eyebrows, his expression turning thoughtful.

“A descendant of Song Wenrong?”

Du Keqin’s question was tinged with surprise, but he quickly regained composure and addressed Qiu Buchu again.

“Where is Song Mu?”

Qiu Buchu hurriedly summoned a junior clerk. The clerk, sweating profusely, leafed through his records before kneeling with a trembling reply.

“Saint…Saint, Song Mu has already submitted his exam paper and is waiting at the examination shed.”

Without hesitation, Du Keqin swept his sleeve, and his apparition vanished from the north tower. Qiu Buchu and the others swallowed hard and hastened downstairs.

At the examination shed, Du Keqin’s radiant apparition appeared before the waiting scholars. Two meters ahead stood Song Mu himself.

It was Song Mu’s first encounter with such an extraordinary event. The apparition radiated golden light, reminiscent of the ancestral spirit he had seen in Shiyang’s county town, but this elder exuded a terrifying aura. No effort was needed to sense it—his own literary force felt seized by an invisible hand, utterly immobilized. The oppression was absolute.

Song Mu dared not speak; nor did those around him, including the previously aggressive Liu Jianyu, who now stared wide-eyed. Before he could even process the scene, a throng of red-robed officials descended from the north tower, led by the rapidly approaching Dean Fan. Even Liu Jianyu, dull as he was, understood what was happening.

“Saint Du, this is Song Mu.”

Qiu Buchu stepped forward and spoke softly. Liu Jianyu nearly fainted, and the scholars almost fell to their knees.

This apparition was a Semi-Saint? Saint Du? Could it be the patriarch of the Li-Du poetic sect? What had Song Mu done to summon the arrival of a Semi-Saint’s apparition?

Every gaze turned to Song Mu, who stared straight at the elder’s spectral form.

A Semi-Saint? Saint Du?

Song Mu was astonished. He knew all too well what a Semi-Saint represented—the highest martial power in the Literary Dynasty. Ordinary Semi-Saints were known as Grand Scholars. Only the patriarchs of poetic sects, whose works had shaped the world, could earn the title of Semi-Saint.

Song Mu pondered deeply, wondering what he had done to draw such attention.

Du Keqin scrutinized Song Mu before withdrawing his gaze, stroking his beard with a smile.

“In the past, I had some dealings with Lord Song, though he…” Du Keqin paused, a hint of regret in his expression, but soon looked at Song Mu and spoke calmly.

“Would you let me see that poem?”

Song Mu was momentarily stunned, and Qiu Buchu’s mouth fell open as he hesitated. “Saint Du, the exam papers have been anonymized, we…”

“No matter,” Du Keqin replied briskly. With a wave of his hand, a golden aura enveloped himself and Song Mu, silencing all surrounding noise. Song Mu marveled at the supernatural display, as Du Keqin spoke.

“Recite it for me. I trust you haven’t forgotten.”

Song Mu pressed his lips together, nodded solemnly, and began to recite his poem.

“Where can one gaze upon the Divine Land? All sights unfold high atop the Literary Tower. How many tales of rise and fall through the ages? Endlessly, the great river rolls and flows.”

As the verse escaped his lips, Du Keqin’s smile deepened.

When Song Mu finished, Du Keqin waved his hand, the golden aura dissipated, and he laughed heartily.

“Marvelous, marvelous! So it was my ancestor’s ‘Ascending the Heights.’ No wonder the sect’s poetic register was stirred.”

“Endlessly the great river rolls and flows—marvelous! In two centuries of mortal life, this is the first time I’ve heard such a verse, borrowing from my ancestor Du’s poetry, and it feels exceedingly fitting.”

“This poem, I’d say, possesses seven measures of literary talent!”

Du Keqin laughed, and the surrounding officials and scholars exchanged bewildered glances, having heard the Semi-Saint’s words.

So the earth-shaking event had been caused by a poem with seven measures of talent, one that borrowed a line from Du Fu. An overwhelming envy erupted in every scholar’s heart. They wondered, and envied Song Mu for having composed such a poem, drawing the Semi-Saint across the rainbow to praise him.

Song Mu’s expression finally relaxed. He had feared that the grand display heralded trouble for plagiarizing a poem, but now relief overtook him.

Du Keqin laughed again, his gaze toward Song Mu full of admiration and affection.

He then spoke.

“It seems you have composed another poem worthy of the ‘Literary Chronicle of the Realm’—three poems, seven, eight, nine measures of talent. Song Mu, were your ancestor alive, he would surely be gratified.”

Du Keqin’s eyes flickered, and he spoke directly.

“Why not join my Du poetic sect and serve the nation henceforth?”

At his words, several present staggered; Ouyang Hong’s legs trembled, Zhan Bo clenched his sleeves, Dean Fan struggled to contain his excitement, and Liu Jianyu, standing beside Song Mu, felt a warm sensation spread beneath his feet.

…

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