Chapter 636: Peaks and Mountains Suppressing the Human World

Chapter 636: The Peak of the Realm in the Mortal World

"I had heard before that Pei Xingjian took on a promising student in Chengdu Prefecture. Looking at you now, you truly do bear some resemblance to him back in the day—both of you sharp-tongued as a whetted blade. But this talk of putting the people first, I've heard it from countless mouths countless times in my life. Yet when it comes to practice, few have ever lived up to it."

The old man asked calmly, "Now that you've said the same thing, I'll ask you this: Under the present circumstances, if you refuse to make choices, to root out the great scourge and put an end to minor chaos, how else do you intend to protect these common folk?"

"First purge within, then deal with without—hold the ground and strike!"

Yang Baize lowered his eyelids, his right hand ceaselessly rubbing the tiger's mouth on his left.

The old man furrowed his brow slightly upon hearing this. "You mean to move against these powerful clans first? How do you intend to move them?"

"As you yourself said, my lord—whoever delights in consulting ghosts and gods, send them first to meet those ghosts and gods."

The youth answered without hesitation, his words carrying a bone-chilling coldness.

The old man pressed further: "With a great enemy at our doorstep, instead of planning a response, you would throw our own ranks into chaos first?"

"The Confucian Order clings to the state for its survival; when the state thrives, so does the order. Now that the Great Ming is about to collapse, the Confucian Order is likewise a frail and ailing body. Rather than hesitate and drag out a wretched existence, it is better to make a swift decision and cut away this rotting, fetid flesh—quickly sever the tangled mess to buy time for regaining robust health!"

Yang Baize said in a deep voice, "If we do not first sweep away these internal dangers, then once war breaks out, the Confucian Order will inevitably be caught in a pincer between enemies within and without, leaving us with scant hope of victory!"

"Young man, do you look down so much on these men of your own order?"

The old man squinted, his gaze profound and unreadable, revealing neither joy nor anger.

"It is not that I look down on them, but that I see them clearly. And because I see them clearly, I do look down on them."

Yang Baize said coldly, "Loyalty and righteousness are often found among butchers and dog-slaughterers; callousness and ruthlessness belong to the learned. What everyone knows in their hearts needs no further concealment."

The old man made no comment, crossing his hands and tucking them into his sleeves.

"The learned are not only callous, but also fickle. It is not difficult to raise the axe—the hard part is discerning the loyal from the treacherous. Can you tell who deserves death and who does not? If you cannot master that measure, the result will not be cutting away flesh, but cutting your own throat. Do you understand?"

"There is no need for me to discern that; there is already a ready person for this task."

"Who?"

Yang Baize's face tightened, and he said word by word: "The Swan."

The old man laughed heartily: "You mean to force them to pick a side."

"The learned are not only fickle, but also cherish their lives. Yet there is one thing you got wrong, my lord: these great clans do not have the right to pick sides. From beginning to end, they should only stand on the side of the common people—that alone qualifies them as Confucians. What we are doing now is merely giving them another chance to repent. If they remain stubbornly unrepentant, they deserve nothing but the name of thieves."

Yang Baize's tone was hard and cold, with a trace of tension audible in it: "To deal with traitors and rebels, one must use thunderous means!"

"Young in years, but not light in bloodlust."

The old man said softly, "Showing your edge too sharply—this is not the temperament befitting a minister."

Yang Baize sensed that the other's words carried a deeper meaning, but before he could ponder it, an answer surged from the marrow of his bones and burst forth from his lips.

"A scholar is a minister of the people, not a minister of the sovereign."

"If there is no sovereign, who then is the scholar?"

"If there were no people, how could there be a sovereign?"

A clear voice chased after the hoarse words.

In this exchange of questions, despite the freezing weather, Yang Baize found himself drenched in sweat, his face flushed red, his gaze fixed intently on the old man.

He did not notice at all that the black-clad men guarding the old man had faint smiles tugging at the corners of their mouths.

"What a sharp-tongued, audacious brat—you truly show no regard for my face."

The old man chuckled in jest, then continued, "Fine, let us proceed with your line of thought. If we dismantle the great clans first, how do we deal with Mount Longhu? Or do you think Zhang Xiji will simply stand by with folded arms?"

"The problems we face, Mount Longhu faces as well—even more severe than ours!"

Yang Baize's eyes flashed with a sharp gleam as he declared, "This so-called Dragon Tiger Daoist State is nothing more than an empty shell. Among the forcibly assembled 'Four Mountains and One Palace,' those whose sect leaders have died are resentful; those who have surrendered to survive harbor treacherous intentions. The foundation that holds it together is nothing but transient fear in men's hearts and Zhang Xiji's personal formidable martial power. It appears strong and flourishing, but in truth it is tottering on the brink of collapse."

The old man nodded. "There is some truth to that. Continue."

"Aside from disunity of hearts, the issue of 'territorial advantage' is another pressing problem for Mount Longhu."

Yang Baize said contemptuously, "The only Daoist mountain sharing Jiangxi Province with Mount Longhu is Mount Gezao. The other bases of the Daoist Order are not connected to his lair on Mount Longhu; they are scattered enclaves."

"If this Heavenly Master Zhang is not a fool, he will surely abandon those distant territories and relocate their adherents and assets to avoid being picked off one by one. So in the final analysis, Mount Longhu remains just Mount Longhu—merely a more intimidating name. Once Zhang Xiji dies, this so-called Daoist state will immediately fall apart."

"Mmm, go on."

Yang Baize said solemnly, "Thus, the current standoff between Confucians and Daoists, though seeming imminent, is merely a show of attitude and stance. In truth, neither side dares to act rashly. Both are covered in lice; the key is who will first clean their own house, and thus seize the advantage!"

The old man teased with a smile, "I never imagined you had such a deep understanding of our Guardian Grand True Man."

"In truth, you have long seen everything with crystal clarity and held the winning plan in hand. Your subordinate is merely wielding an axe before the master carpenter."

Yang Baize said with admiration, "If not for you, Mount Longhu, then at the height of its power, would not have been dealt such a heavy blow, and Zhang Xiji would not have remained in hiding for so many years, only now emerging to cause trouble."

"Haha, though I do enjoy the flattery of a talented young man like you, I truly have no face to claim that credit. Zhang Xiji was not defeated by me, but by Mount Wudang. I merely followed behind and picked up the spoils."

"You just said that once Zhang Xiji dies, Mount Longhu will fall apart."

The old man suddenly shifted the topic, a hint of desolation in his voice: "Then if I too were to die someday, do you think the Confucian Order would follow in Mount Longhu's footsteps, or would it remain safe and untroubled, as calm as an ancient well?"

Yang Baize did not understand why the old man asked this suddenly. He lowered his head in thought, and only after a long moment did he say slowly, "A man may die, but his will does not perish. Bones buried in the mountains and rivers, name inscribed in the annals of history. Whether the Confucian Order falls into chaos or remains stable is ultimately unimportant."

"Hearing you say that, I suppose I can still expect a decent ending."

The old man smiled, then continued, "But you have still underestimated Zhang Xiji. He will not be a man without allies."

Yang Baize felt a sudden chill in his heart and asked urgently, "Are you referring to the Eastern Imperial Palace?"

"That sly Daoist priest has already died once. If no one had his back, he would probably still be shivering in his own son's body, and would never have dared to bluster before me."

The old man's tone was calm, but a natural, overwhelming arrogance radiated from him.

Yang Baize slowly knitted his brows. In his speculations, he had not ruled out the possibility of an alliance between Mount Longhu and the Eastern Imperial Palace.

But in his view, that would only happen after several rounds of struggle between the two parties, with each having victories and defeats—perhaps even after Mount Longhu had suffered losses and was at a disadvantage—only then might the Eastern Imperial Palace step in.

After all, for the Eastern Imperial Palace at this time, the most advantageous choice was to sit on the mountain and watch the tigers fight, fish in troubled waters, and bide their time.

But now, it seemed that the Eastern Imperial Palace had already clearly joined forces with Mount Longhu in their nefarious collusion.

The Confucian Order's current predicament was far more dire than Yang Baize had estimated.

"Do you suddenly feel that the odds of victory are scant?"

The old man laughed. "After all, counting it this way, the Confucian Order is fighting against many with few, surrounded by enemies on all sides."

"It is not the Confucian Order—it is you alone who supports the entire empire, facing the encircling enemies from all sides."

Yang Baize cupped his hands in salute, speaking from the bottom of his heart: "My lord, you have borne a heavy burden."

"Well, well. This boy is indeed better than Pei Xingjian. At least that old bastard never felt for me—he would only say matter-of-factly that this was all my duty."

The old man laughed out loud, a rare occurrence, and said to the black-clad men beside him.

"What you do now, people may not understand, but posterity will come to understand sooner or later."

The square-faced man at the head spoke solemnly in a deep voice.

"By that day, I will have long since turned into a handful of dust. Whether they understand or not matters little."

The old man turned his gaze back to Yang Baize and asked, "With swords and blades outside, and festering sores within, do you still insist on your original plan now?"

"Your subordinate's view remains unchanged!"

The old man asked with slight surprise, "Why?"

"Between the Eastern Imperial Palace and Dragon-Tiger Mountain, old hatreds run deep. Zhang Xiji was the ringleader who once persecuted the Yin-Yang Order. Even if these two factions are now forced to join hands due to circumstances, there will inevitably be friction, mutual suspicion, and even secret schemes to destroy each other. Therefore, I believe the current balance will not be easily broken. We still have time to deal with our internal troubles."

"Then have you considered how great the risk of dealing with internal troubles could be? If we fail to handle it with the proper measure and force these aristocratic families to unite in resistance..."

The old man said calmly, "When internal and external troubles erupt together, the situation will be beyond redemption."

"If we do not touch the aristocratic families, the transcendent position of the Confucian Order as the foremost of the three teachings is merely a pretty bubble—it will burst at the slightest touch!"

The young man straightened his back and lifted his head, his eyes sharp and unstoppable.

"Moving forward may bring defeat, but retreating means certain death! Mountains of obstacles, walking on the edge of a precipice—there is no path but to press forward without hesitation!"

"A young tiger roaring in the valley startles all the beasts. It is good that you have such courage, but the struggle for the order is not a martial brawl. What matters is not ferocity, but steadiness. Because a single misstep on your part may cost thousands or tens of thousands of lives."

"If we're to contend, nothing can be guaranteed."

Yang Baize spoke each word deliberately: "When matters are most difficult, one must summon boldness; a single general's glory rests upon ten thousand bones."

"So you would step over heaps of white bones to achieve your own unparalleled merit?"

A sudden chill crept into the old man's voice, but he saw the young man before him shake his head with a light laugh.

"Excellency, you underestimate me, Yang Baize. I would rather be a bone paving the road than a triumphant general!"

"Well said—willing to be a bone."

The old man raised his voice and asked sternly, "Then if I still refuse to adopt your suggestion, what will you do?"

Yang Baize replied calmly, "I remain unchanged. I will do my utmost to fulfill my duties and protect the people of Huating."

"Are you truly so obstinate?"

"With all due respect, Your Excellency, this is not obstinacy."

Yang Baize raised his head, his pitch-black eyes like the silent night sky on the day when the Yang family of Mianzhou County was destroyed.

"This is precisely what my studies and my path have led me to."

The night was deep and cold, and Yang Baize, speaking his mind, slowly exhaled a long, white breath.

Whatever came next—whether thunderous fury or scornful mockery—he could face it calmly.

"After Liu Jinxun returned from the frontier, I met him. In that conversation, the phrase he uttered most often was that the Confucian Order still had hope. I thought before that he was merely praising Zhang Siyuan in a roundabout way. But now it seems he saw things more clearly than I did in that regard."

The old man broke into a smile and said, "Yang Baize, since you fear neither death nor are willing to be a bone, let me ask you—are you willing to act as my executioner for once?"

Without a moment's hesitation, Yang Baize clasped his hands in salute and spoke with force.

"Yang Baize, Magistrate of Huating County, Songjiang Prefecture, South Zhili, Great Ming Empire, hereby humbly accepts the command of Grand Secretary Zhang, Your Excellency."

"Good!"

Zhang Fengyue nodded and shifted the topic: "Since you are to wield the blade, do you not ask me where the blade is?"

"Your words are the blade."

"To kill, mere words alone will not do. Nor would I send you off empty-handed; otherwise, if Pei Xingjian finds out, he won't let me off. That old man's curses are truly unbearable to hear."

Zhang Fengyue gestured toward the black-clad men beside him and said with a light chuckle, "These legal blades I now entrust to you. As for how to use them, I trust you understand."

Yang Baize's eyes blazed with startled brilliance, finally daring to turn his gaze upon these three men, whose demeanor was silent and hard.

"Do you also believe that the legal order within the empire was long ago exterminated by me?" Zhang Fengyue, noticing his loss of composure, teased.

"The world is ignorant, hardly worth mentioning."

The leading man with a square face stepped forward and clasped his hands in salute to Yang Baize: "Shang Lu, Third Executioner of the Legal Order, greets Magistrate Yang."

"Magistrate Shang, you are too kind. Just call me Yang Baize."

Yang Baize, his expression stiff, swallowed nervously and waved his hands repeatedly toward the man.

When facing Zhang Fengyue, Yang Baize felt as if standing before an abyss—no matter how hard he strained, he could not see the bottom.

This fear was not strong at first, but it lingered in his heart until one day, when it suddenly resurfaced in memory, the terror would dawn on him in full force.

By the time he realized it, it was too late to turn back; he could only let the abyss swallow him.

But when this man called Shang Lu stood before him, it was like a razor-sharp blade pressed against Yang Baize's brow.

Any slight move from him would mean his skull split open, death in an instant.

This was the innate fear the Confucian Order held toward the Legal Order—deep in their bones, not something willpower alone could suppress.

Shang Lu seemed to notice Yang Baize's face gradually paling. After acknowledging the greeting, he stepped back and stood behind Zhang Fengyue.

The haunting dread of facing a natural enemy finally receded. Yang Baize took a deep breath and looked at Zhang Fengyue, asking, "May I ask where Your Excellency wishes me to begin?"

"Better to start here than to choose a place elsewhere."

Zhang Fengyue said flatly, "It is time to thoroughly clean up South Zhili. Otherwise, with a nest of rats and snakes, I cannot bear to stay."

"In half a month's time, I will ensure that the Xu family reaps what they sow—they will deserve their punishment."

"Deserve their punishment..."

Zhang Fengyue murmured the four words, then suddenly stepped forward, walking past Yang Baize, who was bowing in obedience.

As his steps rose and fell, they stirred the ash spread across the site, sending it drifting up to settle on the old man's fully white hair.

He reached up, removed the cape from his shoulder, and draped it over a charred corpse whose features were obliterated.

"Well said. It is time they got what they deserved."

Zhang Fengyue muttered to himself, straightened his back, and lifted his gaze to the sky.

A brilliant star hung high in the pitch-black, sea-like night.

"Everyone, don't be impatient. Since you've all taken your seats at the table, let us take it slowly. We'll see in the end whether you get what you deserve, or I die a worthy death."

Just then, a dark cloud drifted over, blocking the starlight and moonbeams.

As if the celestial gods dared not meet the old man's gaze.

"A pack of cowards."