Chapter Sixty-Five: The Demon Seed

Chapter Sixty-Five: The Demonic Seed

“Senior brother, I was wrong, I truly know I was wrong! Ow, ow—ouch, ouch, ouch!” Guo Nu, delighted at the success of his little scheme, dodged while begging for mercy. But he was no match for Zhang Qian’s nimble moves and ended up taking a dozen blows in a row, howling in agony like a slaughtered pig.

“Enough, stop pretending. You want to learn the arts, don’t you? I’ll grant your wish!” Zhang Qian’s arm was sore from beating him, but his anger still hadn’t subsided. Gritting his teeth, he withdrew his fist. “Ten minutes. In a quarter of an hour, come to the study! No time like the present. From today onward, I’ll teach you our sect’s secret arts!”

With that, he ignored Guo Nu’s pitiful act, turned on his heel, and strode toward the study.

How humiliating, truly humiliating—to be outwitted by another old trick!

Just now, he had only smelled the vapor rub, never noticing that before Guo Nu started bawling, he’d rubbed his eyes a few times!

If Guo Nu had been a peer of He Zhizhang or Zhang Ruoxu, it would have been understandable. After all, losing one’s wits in front of an idol is a common human failing. Even in the twenty-first century, there were wanted criminals on the run for years who, knowing full well the police would set a trap, still risked everything to attend a Jacky Cheung concert. For someone to be bamboozled by two literary giants like He Zhizhang and Zhang Ruoxu was at least forgivable.

But Guo Nu was just a sly, incorrigible rascal, roughly the same age as Zhang himself. Yet Zhang had been taken for a complete ride! How could he possibly swallow this insult?

Unable to let it go, he had to retaliate—among fellow apprentices, “grudges never last overnight.”

As for Guo Nu, he was thick-skinned and sturdy; a few punches didn’t bother him in the least. Zhang Qian couldn’t very well beat him to death, so he had to find another way.

For a graduate of a normal university who’d endured the grind of postgraduate exams, tormenting students was child’s play! Seizing the chance while no one was looking, he opened his phone in the study, pulled up a few papers from the academic database, cut out the historical and personal details, then patched together some personal insights. The introductory chapter on philosophy—one of the “Three Great Arts of Qin and Mo”—was carefully copied onto mulberry paper.

“Philosophy is a theoretical and systematic worldview, or, more precisely, the theoretical system of one’s worldview. As a theoretical form of worldview, philosophy studies the relationship between man and the world in its entirety. The most fundamental aspect of this relationship is that between thought and existence, consciousness and matter...

...

The Master Luo said: Philosophy is a discipline that lies somewhere between theology and science. Like theology, it contains mankind’s reflections on those matters which, as yet, are not confirmed by certain knowledge; but like science, it appeals to human reason rather than to authority—whether traditional or revealed...

...

Master En said: All of philosophy is the study of the relationship between thought and existence.

Thought and existence are not only the two most fundamental aspects of the relationship between man and the world, but also the highest categories in philosophy...

...”

The entire piece totaled two thousand five hundred and fifty-two characters—half the length of the Dao De Jing—and written entirely in plain language. Simple, accessible, and by no means deliberately difficult. Memorized over ten days, that was only two hundred and fifty-five characters per day—not an undue burden!

Yet when Guo Nu, full of joy, entered the study and received “The Elementary Chapter of the Three Great Arts of Qin and Mo: Introduction to Philosophy” from his senior brother, he was instantly rendered as stiff as a clay statue.

Each character on the page was familiar, and each sentence was thoughtfully marked with “sect-exclusive” punctuation. But when the words were put together, it was as if he were reading an alien script.

“Senior brother, what on earth are these words saying? I—I don’t understand a single sentence!” After maintaining his statue-like state for half an hour, Guo Nu finally accepted his own “stupidity,” wiped the sweat from his brow, and sheepishly asked for guidance.

‘You little rascal! If I can’t deal with anyone else, I can certainly deal with you!’ Suppressing a laugh, Zhang Qian put on a stern face and rebuked him in a deep voice, “If you don’t understand, read. Read until you can recite it by heart. Haven’t you ever heard ‘the meaning reveals itself after a hundred readings’? When you can recite it backwards without a single error, I’ll explain it to you. This piece is no more than the Thousand Character Classic for mischievous children. If you can’t grasp even this, how can you expect to learn our three great arts?”

“Yes, senior brother!” Properly chastened, Guo Nu clutched the freshly copied philosophy primer and slunk toward the door. With one foot over the threshold, he turned back, unwilling to give up, “Senior brother, what exactly are the three great arts of our sect? What are the other two? Are they as difficult as this one?”

“The three great arts of our sect are: philosophy, mathematics, and physics.” Having anticipated this question, Zhang Qian placed one hand behind his back and replied slowly. Bathed in sunlight, his face appeared as dignified as a temple deity. “Philosophy is the art that makes you wise. Once you master philosophy, the other two arts will be twice as easy to learn.”

“Mathematics begins with counting and keeping accounts. At higher levels, you can calculate all things under heaven! Master it, and from ancient to modern times, from heaven to earth, anything you see or hear can be measured.”

“As for physics, it starts with understanding forms, measuring shapes, and grasping internal and external structures. At higher levels, you know not only what is, but why it is so. In mastery, from the vast cosmos to the tiniest speck of dust, all can be discerned with a keen eye. Earth, water, fire, and wind—all can be examined for their inner workings. With a wave of your hand, you could move mountains, cross seas, reshape the world!”

Who doesn’t know how to spin a tale?

Among students of philosophy, the art of persuasion is a basic skill!

In the past, Zhang Qian hadn’t unleashed this talent because, first, he’d only just arrived and was still getting used to his surroundings; second, he hadn’t had an opportunity to show it.

Today, however, Guo Nu wanted to become a disciple, and as the senior brother standing in for their master, Zhang Qian had to give his junior a stern initiation.

In truth, even without the “killer move,” Guo Nu was already dizzy from all of this. Once Zhang Qian laid it on thick, Guo Nu was left utterly dumbfounded.

A gust of autumn wind swept through the window, making Zhang Qian’s robes billow, as if he might soar away at any moment.

“Senior brother, don’t go!” Guo Nu snapped out of his daze, rushed in with three quick steps, and grabbed his sleeve. “Senior brother, thank you for teaching me the sect’s secret arts. I swear, having entered Qin and Mo, I shall live and die with no regrets!”

Saying this, he released his grip and was about to kneel and swear an oath. Zhang Qian, seeing this, quickly abandoned his mystical posturing and pulled him up. “Haven’t I told you? In Qin and Mo, we believe all people are born equal. Kneel only to heaven, earth, and your parents—never to another person. Even if compelled, let your knee bend, but never your spirit.”

“Thank you for your guidance, senior brother!” At that very moment, even if Zhang Qian had asked Guo Nu to end his life on the spot, Guo Nu wouldn’t have hesitated. He straightened and offered a deep bow instead.

“Go and memorize it. When you can recite it perfectly, come to me for the explanation!” Having spun tales twice in a single day, Zhang Qian was somewhat exhausted. He waved his hand, signaling Guo Nu to leave. “If you wish to stay at the manor, ask Steward Cui to arrange a guest room. If you want to return to Chang’an, set out at dawn. Don’t expect me to make you a midnight snack.”

“Yes, senior brother!” Guo Nu bowed properly, turned to leave, and paused at the doorway again. “Senior brother, if Ren Xiaowu wants to learn, can I lend him the primer? Or is it forbidden to teach outsiders?”

“Nonsense about not passing on knowledge to outsiders! Do you think anyone can learn the secrets of our sect just by reading a primer without guidance?” Zhang Qian was both amused and touched, waving him away again. “I knew Ren Cong before you. Since I’ve officially accepted you as a disciple today, I can’t show favoritism. If he wants to learn, let him become the third disciple. Copy out the same primer for him to memorize. In future...”

Thinking that others might come drawn by the fame of Qin and Mo, Zhang Qian hesitated, then added with a smile, “In future, unless someone of extraordinary talent appears—and we know them well—I won’t easily accept a third inner disciple. Even if I do, you two will be the ones to teach them, and they’ll only count as outer disciples, not direct heirs.”

“Understood, senior brother!” Hearing that Ren Cong could learn as well, and that a third direct disciple was unlikely, Guo Nu was overjoyed, answered energetically, and left, his robes fluttering as if he rode the autumn wind.

“You’re happy now, but just wait—you’ll be crying later!” Watching Guo Nu’s retreating figure, Zhang Qian shook his head with a smile.

Philosophy, mathematics, and physics—these three disciplines, even mastering one of them at an advanced level would consume a lifetime of effort for most. Given Guo Nu’s mathematical and logical abilities, which likely didn’t surpass those of a twenty-first-century elementary student, reaching an advanced level in even one of them would be a Herculean task.

Still, the thought of planting seeds of Eastern and Western knowledge from the twenty-first century in the Tang Dynasty filled Zhang Qian with satisfaction.

As far as he knew, up until the fall of the Southern Song, China’s development in the natural sciences was far ahead of the rest of the world. The fall of the Southern Song not only destroyed a dynasty but also broke the course of Chinese civilization.

Having the progress of civilization interrupted once was misfortune enough, but centuries later, with the fall of the Ming, Chinese civilization was shattered a second time by barbarism.

Why was it that Britain, with its minuscule territory, could later become an empire on which the sun never set? Since 1215, despite numerous wars, not a single foreign power ever set foot on its homeland.

When a civilization’s progress is uninterrupted, inertia alone gives it a crushing advantage over those whose development is repeatedly broken.

Why was Chinese civilization so fraught with calamity?

The Southern Song and Ming, with productive power, economic strength, and scientific prowess far superior to their adversaries, were nonetheless conquered by less advanced forces.

Favoring culture over martial strength in the later Song and Ming was only part of the reason. More crucially, the Confucian thought that dominated both eras had reached its limits. In a time when there was no new cultural essence to absorb, Confucianism could no longer shoulder the mission of guiding Chinese civilization forward.

And thought—the intellect—is the brain of a nation.

If the brain is paralyzed, it matters little how strong the limbs are; defeat is inevitable.

How to solve this problem, Zhang Qian did not know. But if he could introduce the philosophy and science of the twenty-first century to the Tang Dynasty ahead of time, it would be like planting a few precious seeds himself.

Given five hundred and seventy years to germinate and grow, by the time 1279 arrived, perhaps the Mongols would never have had a chance.

Though Zhang Qian himself could not live to see that era, the mere thought filled him with boundless joy.

Looking out the window, he suddenly noticed how dazzling the autumn scenery was.

He was utterly unaware that his outlook had changed completely from just a few days before.

Back then, he hadn’t cared even about the An Lushan Rebellion, for at that time he’d been an outsider, a mere bystander. The world of the Tang was like images on a television screen, having nothing to do with him.

Now, his roots had quietly sunk into this world. Without realizing it, he had become a part of it.

Whether he would grow up to be a wild weed or a towering tree—time would tell.