Great Zhou Wensheng

Chapter 6 Enlightenment at the Confucian Temple
The end of Yin and the beginning of Mao.

The last stars had not yet faded, and the sky was shrouded in a hazy mist.

unconsciously,

The sound of the morning watchman's drum, shrouded in mist, drifted in from outside the window.

Jiang Xingzhou's fingers, which were curled up beside the desk, suddenly trembled. He got up while counting the night watch, and suddenly felt a soreness and rust in his wrist bones—he had fallen asleep while deducing runes last night.

There were still unfinished runes piled up beside the desk, suggesting that he had been sitting there for more than three hours.

Just then, a thin mist, like white fluff, floated outside the window paper, and a sliver of dawn was already seeping through the gaps in the clouds in the eastern sky.

He rubbed the bruises between his knuckles and smiled bitterly to himself: I never thought that even here, I would still be unable to avoid staying up all night and having my days and nights reversed.

"Dong dong~!"

The door clicked softly.

Jiang Xingzhou looked up, about to ask who it was, but his throat tightened—he saw Chun Tao, a maid with her hair in double buns, carrying a bamboo box and walking briskly into the room with a smile on her face.

"Young master, the young lady heard from young master Fu that you were going to the Confucian Temple and the Book Mountain to comprehend the Tao early this morning, which would be very mentally taxing. So she asked the kitchen to steam some millet cakes early in the morning so you could eat them while they were hot on the way."

Also, this is a tube of sweet well water, which can be used to quench thirst.

The young lady said, "You're busy studying and cultivating yourself, you certainly won't bother preparing these things!"

The maid's voice was as clear as a nightingale's as she laughed.

She lifted the lid of the simmering box, and steam rose and condensed into white mist in the cold morning breeze. The millet cake was also decorated with red dates and longans, and was supported by fresh millet leaves, emitting a fragrant aroma.

Inside the box was a green bamboo tube containing well water that was stored in a cellar; it was cool and refreshing.

"Chuntao, please thank Miss Xue on my behalf!"

Jiang Xingzhou was surprised.

Miss Xue often debated with him, and was always quick-witted and eloquent. She had never been so warm and considerate before.
He took a bite of the still-warm millet cake from the stove, the sweet, sticky warmth rolling down his throat and into his stomach, dispelling the chill of the morning.

He tasted a slightly bitter flavor in the millet cake—it was probably soaked in bitter ginseng, notoginseng juice, or other precious tonics to protect the heart and blood vessels.

After Chuntao returned,

He brushed the lint off his clothes, carefully wrapped the seven runes he had made the night before in plain silk, stuffed them into a sleeve pouch lined with ramie, and took the remaining millet cakes and bamboo tube well water with him.

After Jiang Xingzhou had considered that nothing had been overlooked, he left Langhuan Pavilion.

After crossing the threshold of the Xue residence, we headed towards the Confucian Temple in Jiangyin County.

His dark sleeves billowed like ink clouds, and his steps were steady.

"This Miss Xue has always had a bad temper, when did she learn to be considerate?"

Suddenly, he recalled that year when he first came to the Xue family to study. He had an argument with Miss Xue, who threw a scroll of the Book of Songs at him, hitting him. He then angrily kicked the threshold and left.

This year, he has been busy studying hard at Langhuan Pavilion to prepare for the county examination, so he has had few opportunities to see this Miss Xue.

On the bluestone road,
Only the sound of his solitary footsteps echoed in the empty streets.

At 5:15 AM, the time in Jiangyin County was still dark, the streets were quiet, and the area was still asleep in a thin mist.

Jiangzhou, known as the "Land of Grain and Literature," was a prosperous and fertile region south of the Yangtze River during the Great Zhou Dynasty, with fertile fields stretching for thousands of miles and abundant resources and a thriving population.

Among them, Jiangyin County was particularly famous for its literary tradition—three out of ten people who passed the provincial examination came from this county. It was a gathering place for scholars and a place where books filled the streets, making it a veritable literary hub of Jiangnan.

The Jiangyin Confucian Temple, situated on the dragon's spine of the county seat, is embraced by the winding Wenhe River, and its bronze Wending vessel embodies the essence of the county's cultural spirit.

On every Yin day, the mythical beasts crouching on the eaves of the Confucian Temple seem to exhale and exhale their wisdom, condensing into a purple mist and rosy clouds.

The vermilion gates of the Confucian Temple are only opened when the county examinations are held, or during major literary events such as the Dragon Boat Festival, the Mid-Autumn Festival, etc.

In addition, accumulating ten thousand points of spiritual cultivation can also lead to seeking enlightenment in a temple.

Three blue stone bridges span the Pan Pond of the Confucian Temple, their stone railings engraved with the names of those who passed the imperial examinations. The bridge surfaces have been worn smooth by the shoes of scholars who have walked across them over the years.

As dawn broke and the wind rustled, it was as if a thousand years of time were flowing gently between the bluestone slabs. Jiang Xingzhou was about to step across the bridge when a sudden gust of cold wind rushed straight into his lower abdomen, making him freeze as if he had fallen into an ice cave.

"This chilling pressure... could it be demonic energy?"

He gritted his teeth, suppressing the shock in his heart, and his gaze caught the unusual movement on the surface of the Pan Pond—

"Wow~!"

The water surface suddenly cracked, and a "bixi" turtle, over ten feet long, floated to the surface. Its barbed shell scraped against the bridge pillar, producing a clanging sound like metal halberds.

Its amber vertical pupils flashed with a cold light, and the embroidered green silk wrapped around its claws sent chills down one's spine.

The boy felt a chill run down his spine and staggered back.

Suddenly I remembered the origin of this turtle.

According to the "Jiangyin County Annals - Mythical Beasts Volume", this Bixi was a spirit turtle raised by the magistrate of Jiangyin County in the previous dynasty with the help of literary energy. Over the past five hundred years, it has devoured countless river monsters, shrimp soldiers, turtle generals and so on. Now it sits on the Pan Pond of the Wenhe River and has become the guardian spirit beast of the Jiangyin Confucian Temple.

He quickly bowed, holding a jade tablet bestowed upon him by Master Pei, and said with deep respect, "This student, Jiang Xingzhou, requests permission to visit the Confucian Temple and the Mountain of Books!"

The voice has not fallen,

The Bixi turtle emitted a low, thunderous growl from its throat, its fierce and menacing gaze gradually subsided, and it shook its head and wagged its tail, the turbid foam stirred up by its tail fin sinking into the Wen River.

Until the turtle's shadow disappeared into the pool, the oppressive aura dissipated.

Jiang Xingzhou then realized that his shirt was soaked with cold sweat.

"This magical tortoise beast has probably cultivated to the level of a demon general!"

Jiang Xingzhou took a deep breath, suppressed his palpitations, composed himself, straightened his clothes, and stepped across the Wen Bridge.

Behind the bridge lies the Ink-Washing Pool, its waters as clear as a mirror.

Further ahead is the Jinghong Wall in front of the Confucian Temple, where lifelike portraits of famous scholars and Confucian masters from Jiangyin County throughout history are engraved.

In front of the Confucian Temple stand rows of enormous bronze tripods.

The inscriptions that are qualified to be engraved on the bronze tripod are all poems and articles from outside the county, which can gather the literary talent and safeguard the literary fortune of Jiangyin County for a hundred years.

In the Great Zhou Dynasty, everyone can study the public classics collected and promulgated by the Confucian Temple and apply the literary arts contained therein.

However, poems, lyrics, and articles created by literati themselves that reach the county or prefecture level or above are considered literary works created exclusively by literati.

It will be automatically recorded by the temple's "mountain of books" and is unique.

These private writings can only be written by the person themselves; no one else can plagiarize or use those writings.

Other scholars can only read these poems, lyrics, and articles to gain enlightenment and increase their spiritual attainment.

These are the rules of literature established by all the philosophers and sages of past dynasties when they worked together to create the Way of Literature!
Jiang Xingzhou stepped onto the moss-covered stone steps in the morning light, only to find the temple gate tightly closed.

Just as he was about to knock on the animal-head ring on the door,
But then, the temple door creaked open, a crack appearing, and ash fell from the rotten wood with a scraping sound.

An elderly official in a blue robe with white hair opened the temple door, revealing half of his face from the shadows.

"Those from humble backgrounds who travel by boat on the river, please knock on the mountain of books in the Confucian temple!"

Jiang Xingzhou hurriedly cupped his hands and handed over the official document and jade tablet.

"Did Mengsheng, holding a Hanlin Academy certificate, enter the Confucian Temple to attain enlightenment?"

The old gatekeeper's withered eyebrows suddenly twitched, his eyes trembling slightly as he stared at the official document, his expression one of shock and astonishment.
He guarded the temple for ten years.
I have never seen a single novice dare to delve into the mountains of books and seek enlightenment.

After all, there are students who attempt the test every year, and each level of the Book Mountain can eliminate half of them, which means that the vast majority of students cannot even pass the first three or four levels.

Meng Sheng's Taoist skills and literary abilities are even weaker, and he probably won't even be able to pass the first hurdle of the mountain of books, so he will likely gain nothing.

"Go in! This mountain of books is still a bit dangerous. But don't worry, if you can't hold on, this document will ensure you get out in time!"

(End of this chapter)