Chapter 720: Chapter 429: Epilogue (Part 2)
The peach blossoms in Furong Garden have bloomed seven times and withered seven times.
The delicate petals are whisked away by the spring breeze across the bluestone paths of Vermilion Bird Street, as Daxia enters its seventh year of Datong.
Seven years is neither very long nor very short.
Seven years of spring and autumn are enough to turn a baby in swaddling clothes into a teenager, to add frost to the temples of a middle-aged constable patrolling the streets, and draw a few crow’s feet at the corners of a young girl’s eyes; but for this ancient capital, seven years are merely a few muffled sounds of the copper bell upon the palace walls.
Before the establishment of Daxia, this place was called Chang’an.
The people of Chang’an have lived here for generations.
Wheat has ripened seven hundred times, yet the lives of the people on this land have not seen any noticeable changes.
However, in the recent seven years, this country has been renewed.
During these seven years, the court’s various reforms have been successfully implemented, causing a tremendous change in people’s lives.
The once powerful aristocratic families have all quieted down, retreating from the world.
For the first time in history, the country has truly achieved the ideal that cultivators have their own fields, the court’s taxes are exceedingly low, and it is said that the cabinet’s proposal to abolish land taxes is already on the agenda.
The public society described in the "Rites", where the capable are chosen, trust is maintained, people do not favor only their parents or their children, the elderly are cared for, the strong have their use, the young grow up, and even the distressed, the widow, the orphan, the lonely, and the disabled are nurtured, has seen realization.
Chang’an.
Chang’an Prefect Zhang Mu dresses in his official robes, tightens his belt adorned with white jade, and strides out of the room.
"Lord Zhang, heading to the office!"
Old Man Wang, smoking dry tobacco in the courtyard, raises his hand to greet him, his toothless mouth grinning brightly.
The old man’s indigo clothing is washed pale but bears not a single patch; ever since the Ministry of Industry promoted spinning machines, common folk can also wear tightly woven fabrics.
"Indeed, how is your health, sir?"
"It’s good! This old man has lived too long, burdening the court every month with issuing silver for support. I fell ill last time and caused the court more expenses..."
"What are you saying, sir? If the court doesn’t look after its people, what’s the court for? If you have any difficulties, come to the County Magistrate’s Office to find me... I must go now, or I’ll be late."
...
Zhang Mu steps out from the courtyard he shares with others, catching a bus just in time. Ever since buses started at the gate, visiting the office has become much more convenient.
"Driver, wait a moment!"
Without having breakfast yet, Zhang Mu waves to the bus driver and then calls to the woman at the roadside snack stall, "One tube of soy milk, two buns, please!"
Receiving the bamboo tube of soy milk handed to him and holding a steaming bun in his mouth, he’s searching for change in his pocket when the woman smiles, saying, "Lord Zhang is in a hurry to the office, pay next time..."
Zhang Mu takes out five Copper Coins and throws them into the wooden cash box in front of the woman just before the bus starts.
The court disciplines are strict; "Chang’an Prefect eats breakfast without paying, how difficult is it for the common people to earn some hard money?" He doesn’t want this news to appear in tomorrow’s "Chang’an Daily".
On the bus, Zhang Mu flips through the latest "Chang’an Daily", while beside him a young man dressed as a scholar is engrossed in reading a thick "Journey to the West", and opposite, a farmer woman with a vine basket has half a "Dictionary" peeking out.
Traveling by bus from his doorstep to the government office is faster and more comfortable than by carriage. Carriages have been phased out in Chang’an five years ago.
Getting off the bus, Zhang Mu barely steps into the government office before several figures waiting in the courtyard kneel down. A man excitedly says, "Thank you, The Great Lord, for upholding justice for us!"
Zhang Mu quickly pulls each person up, and seeing them ready to kneel again, he can only summon the authority of the county head, hands on his hips, and loudly declares: "No kneeling allowed!"
Just a month ago, the court issued a new decree declaring equality between Daxia officials and civilians, prohibiting civilians from kneeling in front of officials.
If an Imperial Censor sees this, or if it reaches someone with ulterior motives, he’ll be in trouble.
On a smaller scale, it’s called flaunting official power.
On a larger scale, it’s called feudal restoration; one careless move and his career could be ruined.
Looking at the crowd, he earnestly says, "Remember, besides your parents, don’t kneel before anyone, especially not this official, understand?"
Moments later, Zhang Mu arrives at the government office, ready to handle today’s affairs when from the adjacent school, the sound of reading aloud echoes.
"The rise and fall of the world depends on each person."
"Who finds joy in the people’s joy, the people shall share their joy; who worries for the people’s worries, the people shall share their worries."
"Poor circumstances cannot sway, wealth cannot corrupt, might cannot bend."
"In poverty, keep to oneself; when prosperous, help the world..."
"Setting the mind for heaven and earth, life for the people, inheriting the unique studies of past saints, and opening peace for all eternity..."
...
Inside the school, small children are doing pre-class recitations, as a teacher dressed in a gray cloth robe writes "Public society" on the blackboard with chalk, the plaster dust falling onto newly issued Imperial College copies of "Introduction to Arithmetic" and "Introduction to Gewu" at the platform edge.
In the government office, Zhang Mu opens a letter, a faint smile on his face.
Though young, these children are the future of Daxia.
In recent years, the court has invested heavily in education, ensuring all school-aged children receive nine years of compulsory education. Furthermore, free literacy classes for those who don’t know how to read have been established, where six out of every ten Daxia citizens are literate.
In Chang’an, this ratio is even higher.
Even farmers in the fields and vendors selling vegetables on the streets can leisurely utter classical phrases.
With the rise in the cultural level of the populace, the entertainment industry has flourished.
In recent years, bookstores in Chang’an City have sprung up like bamboo shoots after the rain. Some bookstores print classic novels such as "Journey to the West", "Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio", "Erlang’s Story", and "Nezha Legend", which are sweeping the continent.
Zhang Mu himself is also following "Journey to the West", admiring that fearless monkey.
Who wrote this book remains unknown; he wants to ask for some unpublished drafts from the author, given his position as a Chang’an official, but can’t find out who they are...
Ningxin Garden, the crabapple blossoms are at their peak.
Cerise petals swirl into the study, landing on the nightingale’s moon-white ruqun, gently raising the light veil over her pregnant belly with a soft curve, trembling slightly with the movement of grinding ink.
Li Nuo looks up at her and says, "Zhi’er, go rest, I can manage these things myself..."
The nightingale, grinding ink, teases, "No way, it’s only at this moment that I can be alone by your side."
Li Nuo stood up, supporting her by the waist, letting her sit in his seat, and said, "Then you sit and grind, I’ll stand as my thoughts are clearer."
He paced beside the table, and a pair of slender hands lifted the beaded curtain in front of him.
Over the seven years, Gu Yanran had changed her Double Knife Bun into a Lily Bun, shedding some youthful charm but gaining a gentle elegance.
She looked at Li Nuo and said softly, "Young master, Senior Dongfang has arrived."
After all these years, she still habitually referred to Li Nuo as young master.
Li Nuo quickly left the study room; in seven years, this was Dongfang Xuan’s first return to Chang’an. These years, he had been in the former capital of Zhao Country, researching the Yin Yang Technique with his good friend, leaving his only bloodline, his granddaughter from the Dongfang Family, to Li Nuo’s care...
When Li Nuo arrived outside, he saw Qing’er holding her grandfather’s hand, her face full of smiles, chattering away.
Not seeing his granddaughter for seven years, Dongfang Xuan’s smile was somewhat forced.
Li Nuo went over and smiled, saying: "Senior Dongfang, long time no see."
Dongfang Xuan patted his granddaughter’s head and said, "Qing’er, you go play over there first, grandpa has something to discuss with your Brother Li."
Dongfang Qing wrinkled her nose and said, "So mysterious, what can’t I hear..."
Though muttering, she obediently walked away.
Feeling a peculiar aura from Dongfang Xuan, Li Nuo chuckled lightly, "Congratulations to Senior Dongfang on reaching the Saint Realm."
Dongfang Xuan sighed deeply and said, "Had I known earlier, I would rather never enter the Saint Realm."
Li Nuo asked, "You saw it?"
Dongfang Xuan saw his calm expression and sighed again, "You truly knew..."
The Yin Yang School spent their lives pursuing the highest realm, which he had reached, yet felt no joy.
If not for being mentally prepared, he feared he would have gone insane long ago.
Years ago, when traveling with Li Nuo, he casually spoke a sentence, unexpectedly making a prophetic statement...
The Yin Yang School considered themselves the most unique among the Hundred Schools, believing they could arbitrarily peek into and change the fate, not knowing that all fates were predetermined, and their lives were merely following suit.
He came to Li Nuo just for one answer.
This Seventh Realm Yin Yang School Saint, appeared somewhat uneasy at this moment, nervously looking at Li Nuo and asked, "Is our world merely a story written by someone else?"
Li Nuo slightly nodded.
For these peak powers of the era, a brutal truth is better than a kind lie.
Having his suspicions confirmed, Dongfang Xuan abandoned any hopeful thoughts, his face pale and even his energies turmoil dramatically.
Li Nuo was silent for a moment, then spoke, "This world is fictional, yet it is real; everyone’s fate can be written by themselves..."
If this world was entirely fictional, then Li Nuo would not have come here.
The third-rate author who abandoned writing to become a carpenter had already ended the story he created, yet this world did not cease to exist.
The strong born from within this book-world could lay down a great scheme to deceive their Creator—the author hadn’t written this part of the story.
When Li Nuo breaks the confines of this world, he can erase all so-called fates; then, everyone in this world can freely write their own life.
And that day is near.
As this thought arose in Li Nuo’s mind, suddenly the heavens changed over Chang’an.
Clouds seemed to be kneaded by invisible giant hands, quickly forming a sky-covering black curtain.
A massive black cloud big enough to cover all of Chang’an appeared above, with countless silver bolts of lightning brewing within, gradually forming into a thousand-foot Thunder Dragon, its colossal dragon head extending from the clouds, emitting a spiritual pressure that even Saints of the Seventh Realm would feel the end coming in terror.
But this scene, only Saints can see.
Below the Saint Realm, the sky over Chang’an remains clear.
King Chun Mansion.
A figure standing in the kitchen making soup suddenly raised his head, shocked.
Two figures appreciating flowers in the back garden also suddenly looked up into the sky.
Inside a mansion in Chang’an, a handsome youth playing chess with himself dropped the chess piece abruptly, looked skyward, and exclaimed fearfully: "What is that!"
Ningxin Garden.
Li Nuo’s lips curled into a smile, whispering, "So not allowed for the Eighth Realm’s School of Calligraphy to be born..."
Li Nuo wasn’t surprised at this world-shattering scene in front of him.
The Seventh Realm is the limit of each school’s cultivation, the power limit set in the story.
The only possibility to break this limit is the School of Calligraphy.
But the creator of this world will not allow such a thing to happen.
Because to the world he created, he himself is the School of Calligraphy of the Eighth Realm.
A single pen can rewrite a person’s life in detail, make a beggar an emperor, an emperor become a beggar, a saint lose cultivation, a commoner instantly become a saint, the living die, the dead revive...
This is the ability of an Eighth Realm School of Calligraphy.
Whether a common person with no cultivation or a Saint standing at the continental peak, they are no different to the Eighth Realm’s School of Calligraphy.
No matter how hard a soul born into this world tries, it cannot break this shackle.
Not even the protagonist’s father can do it.
Yet, Li Nuo’s soul was not created by him; his rules do not apply to Li Nuo.
Li Nuo raised his head, looking at the sinister Thunder Dragon, calmly said, "Disperse."
The thousand-foot Thunder Dragon’s immense body suddenly collapsed, and the clouds covering all of Chang’an instantaneously scattered; the sky returned to calm, as if nothing had happened.
