Twin Dimension Yin-Yang Mirror: Attaining immortality through the martial path
Chapter 103 - 100 - s: Better to be a captain of a hundred men than to be a mere scholar

Chapter 103: 100 Chapters: Better to be a captain of a hundred men than to be a mere scholar

"Alright."

From up ahead, a few calls were heard.

On the ground covered with a thin layer of fine snow, idlers quickly gathered around, and a faint aged and hoarse voice could be heard.

"Speaking of this land of vast rivers and mountains, of blade flashes and shadowed swords, how many heroes are told in legends...

Today, I talk not of gods and demons, nor of gifted young men and beautiful ladies, but of a local hero of Qingyang City, who has recently arose, ’one blade removes three evils, fire calms Ping’an Lang’..."

"Good, I love this. Old sir, are you speaking of the recently famous Zhou Mowen?"

"What Zhou Mowen? The story of ’one blade removes three evils’ is about the Lin Family’s Offering, Zhou Ping’an, Master Zhou. This man, in his youth, skilled in both letters and martial arts. I’ve heard, even Third Miss Lin of the Lin Family, impressed by his fame, personally invited him for morning and evening lessons..."

"Brother, you must not know, and indeed, as you’re not from the scholarly Lin family, it’s no wonder you don’t know Master Zhou Ping’an’s poetry. With one verse [If I could place mountain flowers in my hair, seek not my master’s whereabouts], he crushes all talents in Qingyang, and in one fell swoop won the favor of Green Lady, the Oiran of the Washing Flowers Pavilion, thus becoming a guest of importance in her chamber, and then, hehe... it is said that that night..."

A young man dressed as a scholar, eager to flaunt, immediately shared the news he had heard.

This drew exclamations from all around.

"Go on, go on..."

"I love this, young man; I love hearing ’Ping’an Lang with a word astonished the world, through Washing Flowers Pavilion’s three acts to Seek the Celestial Instrument.’ Let’s listen to the detailed account from the old master."

The atmosphere around grew even more fervent.

Although last night’s chilling spring and light snowfall persisted as drizzle outside the teahouse even now, creating a somewhat cold and damp condition, it did nothing to quench the townspeople’s rampant curiosity.

In any era, anywhere.

The glare of swords and the addition of lovely ladies were undoubtedly things that everyone enjoyed.

Especially since this story, unlike those set in distant epochs, was unfolding right amongst them, intensifying their sense of immediacy.

The mere mention of "Ping’an Lang" was invigorating; it heated up their bodies.

He could.

Maybe I could too.

We are all fellow villagers, sharing in each other’s glory.

The storytelling old man with a white beard waved his folding fan and picked up Xingmu, knocking heavily on it. "That guest, the elegant name Zhou Mowen has since become outdated. Since last night, when Li Yuankang, Young Master Li, Zhang Yuanfang, Young Master Zhang, Wang Qing, Young Master Wang, and others gathered around a stove for a nightlong conversation, drinking and composing poems, Zhou Ping’an created yet another masterpiece that can be called a timeless epic, a poem that triumphs over all, not just a bookish man."

"Shh..."

A shush of breaths being drawn echoed around.

Although most among them hardly grasped the essence of poetry, from the story master’s statement alone it was clear that Master Zhou’s newly composed verse was extraordinary.

Otherwise.

Why would one say "a poem triumphs over all, not just a bookish man"?

What kind of poetry could be so compelling that scholars no longer wish to study; after all, that was simply absurd.

[To be a farmer in the morning and ascend to an emperor’s palace by night] What allows this? Studying.

Within books house gold, within books are maidens fair.

In this world, though bluntly exclaimed by none,

the glory of advancing in government service after studying is ingrained in everyone’s DNA.

Hearing the storytelling old man speak thus, many immediately doubted.

But as the speaker had declared, with Li Yuankang, the son of the county magistrate, and young masters from the Zhang and Wang Families present to witness the birth of this poem, it surely must be no falsehood.

"This matter, I indeed have heard about and even asked a fellow student to transcribe the poem ’Military March’ composed by Ping’an Lang at the time. Upon seeing it, it makes one’s blood boil, filled with a desire to abandon the brush for the battlefield, to mount a steed and engage the enemy."

A middle-aged scholar by the side, with a pretentious shake of his head, cautiously pulled out a piece of paper from his chest, his eyes full of wonder.

"Ha ha, Mister Tong, you should abandon that notion, you who starve every other day and have not an ounce of flesh on you, what brush would you cast and battle would you join? Better to stick to teaching kids, produce a scholar next year, so you won’t starve again."

"Away with you..."

The middle-aged scholar’s face showed a trace of embarrassment, which under normal circumstances might have led him to become enraged.

However, he was exceptionally patient at this time, utterly unconcerned.

For he had just acquired three taels of patterned silver, which even now felt warm.

All he needed to do was recite some poetry, perform a few plays,

so simple.

But with these three taels of silver, his wife and children could escape from cold and hunger; indeed, it was a truly excellent deal.

Spring seemed to be coming later this year.

The cold spells also lingered longer.

Especially since last year’s drought followed by heavy snow had resulted in a deficit harvest, many were tightening their belts, just surviving was already well enough.

Unfortunately, the Red Lotus Bandits were causing trouble outside the city.

Inside the city, chaos erupted frequently, every morning awakening to some bodies carted to the outskirts, dumped at the mass grave, chilling the heart.

For this reason, such a "light" job seemed incredibly precious.

With this in mind,

the middle-aged scholar gulped down a cup of hot tea, gazed at the copied verses in his arms, and recited aloud:

"Fires light up Xijing, unrest stirs within,

Leaving the Fengque with officials’ fame, iron horse encircles Longcheng,

In darkness, the flags fade, cluttered by the wind’s calls,

Better to be a leader of a hundred, than to remain a mere scholar."

As the middle-aged scholar recited this poem with his clear, rhythmic voice,

Inside the teahouse, silence suddenly descended.

Then, a burst of light exclamations erupted...

Someone, caught up in the excitement of the tale, opened his robes wide and shouted, "Innkeeper, bring some wine! This tea is simply not satisfying enough. When the Red Lotus Bandits attack the city again, I, Hu Something, will take my butcher knife and chop off a few heads to bring back."

"If scholars can have such bold aspirations, we martial artists must not let them look down on us. To break the Red Lotus and slay the wicked bandits, today, I shall join the army, hoping that one day I might lead troops northward to the Dragon Hall in the Desert, and be appointed as a Marquis."

"What a noble ambition."

"Smack..."

Xingmu struck again, and the storyteller resumed, "Today, let’s discuss how ’Zhou Fenghuo’ eliminated three villains with a single blow, starting with the night the Lin Family was attacked..."

...

"This is already the seventh place we’ve passed, this is too much."

The more bystanders gathered around the teahouse by the roadside, the more they suppressed the recent depression and chaos within the city.

Zhou Ping’an’s old face grew warm.

This was the first time he had heard someone praise him like this.

And more frustratingly, he knew it was done by someone close to him.

Third Miss Lin of the Lin Family pursed her lips, her eyes gently curving in a light laugh, seemingly delighted at seeing Zhou Ping’an’s embarrassed look.

"Isn’t it about taking the initiative? It’s just using every means available, after all, even if it is flattery, it harms no one, nor is it a lie. You, Zhou Fenghuo, truly are proficient in both literary and martial arts."

As she spoke, Lin Huaiyu herself couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

"Let’s get one thing straight first, that poem wasn’t written by me, it was made by a destitute scholar named Yang Jiong whom I met by chance, I just appropriated it for my own use.

Also, that Lyric Poem from the other day was written by Yan Rui, I just have a good memory, I’m merely a carrier of poetry, not a great scholar. Think about it, I’m just a commoner of humble origins, haven’t even fully read through the classic texts, where would I get such literary talent?"

Seeing a hint of newfound respect silently appearing in Third Miss Lin’s eyes, Zhou Ping’an felt deeply embarrassed.

He hadn’t intended to plagiarize poetry at all.

But now that things had escalated this way, any explanation seemed futile to others.

He certainly couldn’t reveal that he originated from another world, for that would be absurd.

Luckily, in this world, the Great Yu Dynasty had established its capital to the west, named Wangjing, also known as Xijing.

Meanwhile, the Desert Barbarians, fierce and proficient in warfare, had risen to prominence and even established their capital in Black Dragon Dragon Hall.

Thus, calling the barbarian nation’s capital "Dragon City" was somewhat justified.

Otherwise, it would have been difficult for him to explain what exactly "Xijing" and "Dragon City" were.

"You just make it up..."

Lin Huaiyu nodded in agreement.

She thought to herself that everything about him was admirable except that he was too modest.

And perhaps too mature.

Completely lacking the youthful spirit and fervor typical of young men.

If it had been any other talented youth,

creating such transcendent poetry would have made them immensely arrogant.

But he, on the contrary, was extremely modest and didn’t think too highly of himself...

’Perhaps, this is what being a true gentleman, gentle and refined like jade, is all about.’

At this thought, Lin Huaiyu sighed deeply.

In fact, if it hadn’t been for personally hearing him teach Xiao Jiu’er the methods of arithmetic and phonetics, she would almost have believed him.

Not to mention his extraordinary talent in martial arts, which had surpassed her own, a prodigy known across Jiangzhou since she was fourteen.

His literary skills were far beyond what he claimed to be mere rudimentary knowledge.

If such broad knowledge could be considered rudimentary, then what was the point of scholars aspiring to become officials?

They might as well go back and study diligently for another ten years.

Seeing the expression on Third Miss Lin’s face,

Zhou Ping’an realized that his recent comments had fallen on deaf ears.

He felt a wave of helplessness.

Let it be.

To take without a sound can be called stealing, but openly using it with others disbelieving is not considered stealing, is it?

At most, when he returned to the modern world, he would offer incense to the two ancient poets, apologizing to each one.

Hoping that they, should they know, would understand.

Not wanting to dwell too much on this topic,

Zhou Ping’an smiled and said, "This time, the Lin Family promoting my name has undoubtedly brought me from behind the scenes to the forefront, but could it possibly have a negative impact on our plan to gather herbs?"

He discovered that Lin Huaiyu, ever since realizing the importance of ’securing influence,’ had immediately commanded all hands on deck to create momentum.

She even went as far as to bring in military manuals and historical records of martial examinations, from the lowest scholar rank to the champion, to study.

That was still tolerable.

But she also extravagantly spent a large amount of silver,

hiring actors to storytell, singers to sing, and plants to plant, managing in just a few days to transform the tragic death of Qingyang City Magistrate Tian Shouyi into a comedy widesp...