007, even the Four Sentences of Hengqu can't keep you in check?

Although Wang Yu knew a great deal, he still had not passed the Contest of Debate and failed to invoke any manifestation of the heavens, nor had he been blessed with the aura of literature; thus, he possessed little combat power. If he were truly struck by falling stones, he would most certainly be on his way to meet Marx. No, wait—there is no meeting Marx in this world. Perhaps he would meet the Heavenly Emperor? Or maybe the Ox-Head and Horse-Face or the King of the Underworld? Wang Yu’s old habit of letting his mind wander was acting up again.

Fortunately, Zigong’s imprint of reason was resilient enough, just as the man himself had been. In the end, it did not shatter and collapse, barely managing to stabilize the situation and save Wang Yu’s life. Wang Yu let out a sigh of relief and couldn’t help but complain to himself: Did the venerable master never consider this kind of situation when constructing the Heavenly Staircase? If a genius came to climb the staircase and, instead of becoming a fool for failing, was struck dead by falling rocks—wouldn’t that be a tragic injustice?

But Wang Yu was overthinking it. Since the Heavenly Staircase was erected, no outer disciple had ever attempted the climb. Only peerless geniuses with remarkable comprehension, profound learning, and flourishing literary aura had ever set foot here. Naturally, they would not be killed by mere loose stones. It could only be said that Wang Yu was an oddity.

Wang Yu carefully stepped around the piles of fallen stones on the steps and arrived at the platforms at the second and third bends. He did not proceed further but chose to wait.

Those outside the staircase, having witnessed the manifestation of Zilu’s apparition, thought the trial was finished. Even if Wang Yu had chanced upon the approval of one sage, that was surely his limit. None of them expected that they were about to witness the appearance of a second sage.

So, when Zigong’s hundred-zhang-tall apparition appeared in the sky, everyone was dumbfounded. Even Master Ziyou couldn’t help but clench his fists. Could this boy truly be a prodigy, suddenly enlightened and able to rival the sages of old?

Leaving aside what was in Ziyou’s heart, as soon as Zigong’s apparition appeared and nodded to Ziyou, he cast an object from his hand into the Heavenly Staircase. This object was the Hu Lian, a ritual vessel used in ancestral temples to hold millet and grain. Zigong was called the “Hu Lian of men” by the founder, meaning he possessed great talent and was a pillar of the nation.

It was only fitting that Zigong used this vessel as his instrument of cultivation. Now, bestowing the shadow of the Hu Lian was an acknowledgment of Wang Yu, granting him the qualification to compete for the leadership of Zigong’s lineage. This was no trivial matter—gaining the qualification to compete for leadership in two lineages was almost unbelievable. Yet it was happening before everyone’s eyes.

Not only Ziyou, Zhu Bingli, and Tao Yuan were shocked—even the old man who had opened the staircase earlier couldn’t help but open his eyes slightly, muttering, “Good lad, he does have some skill. To gain the sincere recognition of two of them—he certainly has a reason to be proud.” After a pause, the old man chuckled, “Don’t get ahead of yourself, boy. There are sixteen more to go—especially the last one. Heh, I hope your legs don’t give out in fright.” Whatever he was imagining, the old man gave a strange laugh and reclined again, swaying leisurely in his chair.

Wang Yu waited for a while, and sure enough, another apparition descended, but this time he was not the least bit nervous. Calmly, he waited for the shadow to enter his body, and then a Hu Lian mark appeared on his arm. Together with the spear mark from before, there were now two—one on each arm, perfectly balanced.

Looking at the two marks on his arms, Wang Yu suddenly thought of something. If he cleared the Heavenly Staircase and received the approval of all the doctrines, wouldn’t he end up with eighteen marks? Was there any way to make his arms longer? He needed an answer—urgently. He was worried that his arms wouldn’t have enough space for all the marks. If they ran out of room and had to be moved onto his legs, wouldn’t that be awkward? Especially if one ended up at the top of his thigh—the thought alone was too much to bear.

Wang Yu couldn’t help but shiver. No, that couldn’t possibly happen. Surely the sages wouldn’t do something like that—they had their dignity, didn’t they?

Putting aside these errant thoughts, Wang Yu stepped onto the first stair of the third bend. The third bend was where the imprint of Zixia’s doctrine resided. Wang Yu knew this because each bend had a sign, engraved with the names of those who had left an imprint of their doctrine, to prepare the climber. After all, this was a trial—difficult, yes, but not intended to kill, so some guidance was given.

As soon as Wang Yu set foot on the step, a voice echoed in his ears and heart: “What is a Confucian?”

Now, this was an interesting question.

Zixia was known for his somber courage and preferred the company of the virtuous. He studied under Confucius and was renowned for his literary learning. He proposed the idea that “those who excel in officialdom should pursue learning; those who excel in learning should enter officialdom,” and advocated that “an official must win the people’s trust before he can command their service.” Unlike Yan Hui and Zeng Shen, who strictly adhered to the founder’s way, Zixia was a thinker with a distinctly practical bent. He no longer fixated on “self-restraint and returning to ritual,” but instead concerned himself with the politics of the present, advancing a set of political and historical theories that extended orthodox Confucian views into governance.

Thus, the founder often admonished him: “Be a Confucian among gentlemen, not a Confucian among petty men.” Naturally, he questioned the very nature of being a Confucian.

So what is a Confucian?

The “Rites of Zhou, Offices of Heaven” gives one definition: “Fourth, the Confucians, who win the people by the Way.” The “Family Sayings of Confucius” states: “They do not befoul their rulers, do not burden their superiors, nor cause worry to officials; thus are they called Confucians.” Yang Xiong considered, “Those who comprehend Heaven, Earth, and Man are Confucians.” The “Shuowen Jiezi” explains, “A Confucian is gentle, a term for practitioners of arts. The character is composed of ‘person’ and the sound ‘xu.’”

There are further divisions, such as Confucians among gentlemen and Confucians among petty men—so many interpretations as to be uncountable, as numerous as stars in the sky. Many have offered explanations, but only one aligns with Wang Yu’s own view. That is Zhang Zai.

Thus, Wang Yu spoke, word by word, the four lines that have been passed down for generations: “To establish the heart for Heaven and Earth, to establish the destiny for the people, to continue the lost learning of the sages of the past, and to bring peace to all generations to come—such is a Confucian.”

These four lines rang out with weight, like gold and jade striking stone. As soon as he finished, the voice echoing in Wang Yu’s ears and heart fell silent, as if someone had fallen into deep thought. Then, all the lines of doctrine imprinted at the third bend suddenly shimmered and transformed, finally coalescing into the apparition of a tall-crowned man in Confucian robes—Zixia himself.

The apparition appeared, stood in the air, gazed up toward the mountaintop, and seemed to be speaking, perhaps in communion with another. After a while, as if the exchange was complete, the apparition raised its hand, and a beam of light shot directly into Wang Yu’s body. Soon after, an ancient seal mark appeared on Wang Yu’s left arm—the insignia of Zixia’s lineage.

Zixia’s lineage produced many practical men—officials of great number. To earn their approval was, without question, of immense benefit.