015, I want to leave the sect!
Zhu Bingli was led away and would never again appear before the assembled crowd. Watching a great scholar vanish so suddenly, even though his recent conduct had brought him shame in the eyes of all, many could not help but feel a pang of sympathy. To become a great scholar is a task fraught with difficulty and hardship.
Though the Confucian stronghold atop Mount Tai boasts many such scholars, this is merely because it is the heart of the Confucian order, where the talented gather. In the wider world, however, even a small nation of a hundred chariots might never see a single great scholar. Thus, the status of such a figure is truly exalted; even in realms a thousand or ten thousand chariots strong, a great scholar is always a guest of honor at the king’s court.
For this reason, the crowd’s gaze toward Wang Yu, the instigator, became peculiarly conflicted. The great scholars among them felt a sense of sorrow for one of their own, as well as a measure of empathy.
Yet Wang Yu cared not at all for such sentiments. He was amused—soon he would be gone, and whatever feelings others harbored were none of his concern. Among the entire Confucian order, the only one Wang Yu regarded with genuine affection was Tao Yuan, the head of the outer academy. This man was the embodiment of a true teacher: gentle with others, profound in learning, spiritually cultivated, and possessed of broad vision and magnanimity. Wang Yu believed that if the Confucian order were led by Old Tao, it would surely flourish. What a pity!
As Zhu Bingli was dragged away, the mountain master Ziyou turned his gaze to Wang Yu. “Wang Yu, Zhu Bingli violated the rules and has received his punishment. Now it is your turn.”
At once, Wang Yu became wary. What was this old fox planning? Was he going to settle scores with him? Wang Yu knew full well what account Ziyou intended to settle—the offense Wang Yu had given Zhu Bingli earlier. But Wang Yu was well prepared and, though alert, remained unruffled.
“Master, I do not understand your meaning. Please instruct me.”
Ziyou regarded him coldly. “During the Debate Trial atop the platform, you coveted the literary spirit, offended Zhu Bingli, spoke rudely and acted without decorum. By the rites, you should share Zhu Bingli’s punishment. Do you object?”
Do you object? Of course he did. At that moment, Wang Yu became the very embodiment of a contrarian, displaying the full skill of a master debater.
“Master, I must disagree. What crime have I committed?”
“Disrespect toward your elders.”
Wang Yu snorted. “A petty man like Zhu Bingli is hardly worthy of being called my elder, even though I walk the world as a representative of the Confucian order. Don’t you think such a claim only brings shame upon our order?”
Ziyou was momentarily stunned by Wang Yu’s retort.
Truth be told, Wang Yu had turned things upside down. Earlier, before Zhu Bingli’s disgrace and before Wang Yu became a Confucian emissary, calling Zhu Bingli his elder would have been entirely correct. But now, with Wang Yu’s new status, Ziyou found it difficult to argue the point.
Only then did Ziyou realize that Wang Yu was no longer just an ordinary student of the outer academy. He was both a candidate for the nine branches and a recognized Confucian emissary—though the latter was still in question, the former was indisputable. Such status ranked him among the highest in the entire order. Even if a crime were found, there was no way to punish him, much less expel him.
Realizing this, Ziyou understood that continued debate would only further erode his authority. There was nothing more to be gained. Thus, he decided to end this farce.
Ziyou cast Wang Yu another icy glance, said nothing, and turned to leave, intending to vanish into the air.
Wang Yu saw him preparing to depart. How could he allow it? His business was not yet finished. He called out loudly, “Master, please wait!”
His voice seemed imbued with boundless power, causing Ziyou’s form to tremble, as if bound by the fundamental laws of heaven and earth, forcing him to turn back.
“What else do you want?”
Wang Yu could not help but marvel inwardly—Shen Dao’s divine words truly were effective, never failing. Ignoring Ziyou’s sour expression, Wang Yu said directly, “Master, I wish to leave the Confucian order.”
“What!?”
His declaration sent shockwaves through the crowd. Some even wondered if Wang Yu had lost his mind.
Was he not mad? With Wang Yu’s current status in the order, even if the mountain master disliked him, he dared not make trouble for him because his position was too unique—so unique that not even the mountain master could touch him. With such advantages, Wang Yu could surely become a great scholar or even a master within the order. As for becoming a sub-sage or sage, that required not only cultivation but also immense willpower, perseverance, wisdom, and fortune—things beyond mere human effort.
With such favorable conditions, he wished to leave? Had his head been kicked by a donkey?
Most agitated of all was Tao Yuan, who seized Wang Yu’s shoulder. “Hongjian, what are you thinking? How could you? How could you?”
Wang Yu gently patted Tao Yuan’s arm. “Master, forgive me for wasting your painstaking guidance. But my path does not lie within the Confucian order. To remain would benefit neither myself nor the order. Better to part early, as the saying goes: part in peace and rejoice in our separate ways—is that not beautiful?”
Having spoken, Wang Yu turned to Ziyou. “Master, what do you say?”
Ziyou’s initial reaction was delight, but soon he grew suspicious. By now, he would never underestimate Wang Yu; anyone who could gain the approval of nine senior brothers and teachers was no fool. Even if he was adept at disguise, he was surely a man of great insight. What was Wang Yu’s purpose? Was he retreating to advance? Or dissatisfied with his ambiguous status, seeking to force Ziyou’s hand?
If Wang Yu had known Ziyou’s thoughts, he would have cried injustice. This time, he truly had no ulterior motives—he simply felt the order was not suited to him and wanted to leave, with no intention of seeking advantage.
Unable to guess Wang Yu’s intentions, Ziyou asked, “Are you certain?”
Wang Yu smiled. “A true man’s word is as swift as a four-horse chariot; what is spoken must be done, and what is done must bear fruit. Of course I am certain.”
Though he did not know what Wang Yu was planning, this was exactly what Ziyou hoped for. So he replied quickly, “In that case, as mountain master of the Confucian order, I approve your withdrawal. Since you have not yet cultivated literary spirit, there is no need to reclaim your cultivation. You may descend the mountain.”
Ziyou’s eagerness to drive Wang Yu away was unmistakable. Wang Yu was speechless.
Yet this suited him perfectly, for he had intended to leave. Without further words, Wang Yu prepared to return to his quarters and pack for his departure.
As for the insignia and the multicolored scales he bore, Ziyou did not demand their return. He still harbored a thought: these items were important only if the order recognized their significance; otherwise, they were worthless. By not taking everything to its conclusion, he could later account for his actions to his senior brothers and teachers.