008, go for it, Wang Yu, fighting!

The reason Zixia’s phantom manifested directly within the Heavenly Staircase was simply because Wang Yu’s four statements were too astonishing. They revealed the true essence of Confucianism—the genuine path of the gentleman scholar. At the same time, they gave Zixia greater resolve in his own way: to apply learning to governance, bringing peace to the world. It could be said that this also vindicated the Zixia lineage.

After all, the followers of Zixia were mostly officials engaged in worldly affairs. Though they wielded significant secular power, their standing within the Confucian tradition had never been high. This was because Zixia could not find a sufficient core principle to legitimize his lineage. Now, he had found it.

Indeed, the four lines spoken by Wang Yu were enough to affirm the place of scholar-officials in the world. After leaving his mark, Zixia’s phantom dissolved once more into patterns of principle, returning to the mountain’s surface. Because of this, Zixia’s image did not reappear outside the Heavenly Staircase, causing the onlookers’ hearts to relax slightly.

It seemed the boy had reached his limit; the third bend was his utmost. There was no way he could overcome the fourth bend. Everyone knew well the significance of the eighteen turns of the Heavenly Staircase, each imprinted with the teachings of a sage: Zilu, Zigong, Zixia, Dantai Mie Ming, Gongye Chang, Ziqian, Zhonggong, Ziyou, Zizhang, Ziyou again, Ran You, Ran Geng, Ziyou yet again, Zisi, Yan Hui, Kong Ji, and Zeng Shen. As for the final turn, its origin remained a mystery, surrounded by countless legends.

To date, no one had ever succeeded in climbing the entire Heavenly Staircase to reach the summit of Mount Tai. Thus, the identity of the sage who left the last imprint was unknown. Well, not quite—Old Ji seemed to know, but he would never share the answer with anyone else.

After passing the third turn, Wang Yu pressed on, overcoming the next fourteen one after another. From Dantai Mie Ming, who advocated loss of self, to Yan Hui, who walked the Great Way, and Zeng Shen, whose path was one and unbroken, some fully acknowledged Wang Yu’s interpretations, others remained noncommittal; yet, Wang Yu’s outstanding eloquence allowed him to pass each challenge.

Seventeen sages, representing over a dozen Confucian lineages, and Wang Yu had obtained the emblems of nine. Besides Zilu, Zigong, and Zixia, he had also gained the approval of Ziyou, Zisi, Zhonggong, Zizhang, Ziyou, and Ziqian, qualifying him as a contender for the position of head of nine lineages.

Those outside the Heavenly Staircase were left utterly speechless. For though they could not see Wang Yu’s precise progress, each time he passed a turn, a brilliant light would shine forth, announcing his advancement to all.

Furthermore, each time came a commentary—“This child is a great talent,” “This youth is extraordinary,” “He is much to my liking,” and so forth—a public display of favor. Clearly, the patriarch did this to encourage more to challenge the Heavenly Staircase.

What shocked them even more was that, on this day, the phantoms of eight ancient sages appeared in succession, each bestowing their lineage’s emblem of approval. It was obvious: Wang Yu had secured the endorsement of nine lineages as a candidate for head of their academies. This left the onlookers reeling, almost doubting whether the Heavenly Staircase was as difficult as they had believed.

But remembering the fate of many previous failed challengers quickly cooled their excitement. No, the Staircase was not easy—it was Wang Yu who was extraordinary, a true prodigy.

The nine emblems—spear, ritual bowl, ancient seal, coin, mulberry leaf, ox plow, straw sandals, rotten wood, and reed flower—adorned Wang Yu’s arms, filling them completely. Wang Yu was quite pleased, yet as a perfectionist, one thing unsettled him: nine emblems were not symmetrical. Five on the left, only four on the right. It drove him nearly mad. Gazing at the eighteenth and final turn, Wang Yu resolved with all his might to earn the last emblem there.

Now, Wang Yu stood at the highest reaches of Mount Tai; one hundred more steps and he would reach the summit. The summit, said to overlook all under heaven, had become nearly unattainable since the creation of the Heavenly Staircase. Of course, one could reach the summit by other paths, but it would not be the true apex. Only by ascending the Staircase could one reach the very pinnacle, the so-called Celestial Gate below, the absolute top of Mount Tai.

It was said that reaching the summit would bring a grand fortune, a providence left by the patriarch for his disciples. Yet, through the generations, none had succeeded, failing the patriarch’s expectations.

Here, mountain winds howled; white clouds drifted past his feet, shifting shapes moment to moment—fleeting as the heavens themselves, whose will is ever unfathomable. Who could have imagined that, just a day ago, he had been arguing with others, and now, he stood debated with the ancient sages themselves?

To whom could he even appeal for reason?

Wang Yu recalled the seventeen bends he had conquered. The most perilous had been Ziyou’s. Wang Yu had little interest in the ritual path and his understanding of ritual was shallow, barely managing to pass. He had almost been reduced to a fool by Ziyou’s formidable doctrine.

Fortunately, Wang Yu’s will was steadfast, and he persevered. This made him realize that these ancient sages were not lacking in greatness—he was simply borrowing the advantage of later generations’ wisdom.

Within the seventeen bends lay the teachings of three Confucian Saints, eleven Philosophers, and four of the Seventy-Two Worthies. The three Saints were Yan Hui, the Saint of Renewal; Kong Ji, the Saint of Transmission; and Zeng Shen, the Saint of Ancestry. The eleven Philosophers included Min Sun (styled Ziqian), Ran Geng (styled Beniu), Ran Yong (styled Zhonggong), Zai Yu (styled Ziwo), Duanmu Ci (styled Zigong), Ran Qiu (styled Ziyou), Zhong You (styled Zilu), Bu Shang (styled Zixia), and You Ruo (styled Ziyou).

But who was the last? With even the three Saints present, could it be Mencius, the Sub-Sage? Yet, according to the original host’s memories, this world seemed not to have Mencius or Xunzi; otherwise, given their stature, the host could not have been ignorant of them.

Pondering this, Wang Yu was struck by a sudden realization—could it be the Confucian patriarch himself?

At this thought, Wang Yu grew uneasy. This was no ordinary sage, but Kong Qiu, known as Confucius, the Sage among Sages! The Teacher for All Ages, the Paragon of Perfection, Great Accomplished Sage, Heaven’s Chosen, the Voice of Heaven, the Grand Instructor, the Sun and Moon who could not be surpassed. “If Heaven did not give birth to Kongzi, the world would remain in darkness.” His deeds and renown needed no elaboration; his titles alone spoke to the profundity of his cultivation.

If the final turn truly bore Confucius’s doctrinal imprint, Wang Yu had no confidence he could prevail. To win was out of the question; merely gaining his recognition would be enough to fill Wang Yu with pride.

Contemplating that this last turn might bear the patriarch’s mark, Wang Yu could not help but grumble inwardly—wasn’t this a bit much? Who could measure up to him? No wonder so many years had passed with no one succeeding; no one could manage it.

Only he, bolstered by the wisdom of later sages, might have a chance.

Yes, there was no need to fear—later generations are not necessarily inferior to the ancients. As the saying goes, “Each generation brings forth its own talents, each shining for hundreds of years!”

I can do this! Onward, Wang Yu—go forth!