Chapter 39: Cangshu Pavilion

Waking at dawn, Mu Feng felt the pain on his back had mostly faded, yet his mother’s words remained vivid. The characters for “Scholar” and “Warrior” were carved not just into his back, but deep into his heart.

Endure the moment to win a lifetime! Step back to find boundless space!

Endure!

Calm and focused, Mu Feng took up his brush and wrote a large character for “Endure” on a blank sheet of paper.

In just a few days, the triennial Metropolitan Examination would begin, a turning point of immense significance. Passing it would grant him entry into the prestigious Xiangshan Academy in Jiangling Prefecture, securing his eligibility for the imperial examination. Failing, however, meant abandoning his scholarly path halfway, turning his dream of success into a sweet dream!

“Those of ancient times who wished to illuminate illustrious virtue under heaven, first governed their states well; To govern their states well, they first brought order to their families; To bring order to their families, they first cultivated themselves… Cultivate oneself, regulate the family, govern the state, bring peace to the realm!”

Picking up the Book of Rites from his desk, Mu Feng read aloud in a clear voice.

His mother was right. Studying the classics truly illuminated principles. Every word in these ancient texts, reflected upon carefully, held truths applicable everywhere under the sun. This path of scholarship lay precisely in diligent practice — constant summarization, deep study, and personal realization. It wasn’t about mindless cramming or rigid memorization. That was pointless. Even by luck succeeding in exams would only make one a useless nerd!

A learned scholar and a bookish nerd might both read, but their paths held vastly different meanings. It’s just that there were too many nerds in the world, gradually staining the title of a true scholar.

“Young Master Mu Feng! Cangshu Pavilion summons you. According to Mu Manor’s rules, your entry qualification is granted today!”

Mu Feng had barely sat down when a raspy voice called from outside. Stepping out, he saw a gaunt, stooped attendant from Cangshu Pavilion, sporting a wispy goatee. The man’s narrow eyes were crinkled in a smile, but it gave Mu Feng an inexplicably uneasy feeling.

Hearing the commotion, Situ Qing emerged, draped in an outer robe. “Feng’er, go. Since the opportunity is given, treasure it well,” she said softly but firmly. “All the Mu Manor’s advanced cultivation techniques are kept within Cangshu Pavilion.”

“Yes!”

Mu Feng bowed respectfully. After bidding his mother farewell, he followed the goateed attendant and soon arrived at a cluster of ancient structures behind the Chuangong Hall.

Surrounded by lush trees, only glimpses of imposing eaves were visible from afar. The gardens looked serene at first glance. But concentrating carefully revealed hidden secrets — a subtle current of Spiritual Power shimmered in the air. The entire complex was shielded by a powerful Restriction. Attempting a forced entry would unleash a devastating counterattack.

Cangshu Pavilion!

The training ground revered by all disciples of the clan finally opened its doors to Mu Feng, who had never before been permitted to even approach. Entering here held the promise of finding an advanced cultivation art perfectly attuned to his lineage. With it, his progress could surge daily, earning him the clan’s focused training and newfound respect.

“Look! Young Master Mu Feng is here! Broad-shouldered and sturdy! He’s truly changed!”

“Eh? Indeed! When did Young Master Mu Feng grow taller than me by a head?”

…

Whispers followed Mu Feng’s tall figure.

News of his visit to Cangshu Pavilion this morning had drawn many clan members, including young ladies who seldom left their quarters. Having heard tales of his daring exploits at Chuangong Hall yesterday, everyone wanted a glimpse of the once frail scholar’s transformed appearance.

Upon closer inspection, he did seem considerably taller. The gentle, scholarly air still lingered, but there was something more now — an aura of indomitable spirit that seemed to radiate a palpable Virtuous Righteousness, especially his eyes. Bright, direct, and piercing, they felt as if they could lay bare one’s hidden thoughts, making the ill-intentioned avert their gaze in shame.

“Young Master Mu Feng, this way, please.”

The goateed attendant beamed, stopping in his tracks and gesturing respectfully ahead. “Congratulations on passing the promotion trial! Here, this old servant wishes you success in gaining a high-tier technique and becoming our Mu Manor’s pillar in the future!”

“Thank you.”

Mu Feng nodded tersely.

Despite the smile, a sliver of darkness prickled under his skin. Looking up, dense storm clouds gathered over Cangshu Pavilion. The air grew heavy, charged with the threat of imminent rain.

“It’s about to rain again.”

Taking a deep breath, Mu Feng strode inside. Led by a stern attendant dressed in black, they arrived at a heavily guarded palace hall. Pushing open the grand doors revealed rows upon rows of towering shelves, each laden with densely packed crystal cases. Each case held a precious cultivation technique.

“Young Master Mu Feng, you have half the time it takes an incense stick to burn. Good luck.”

The black-robed attendant’s low voice echoed as the heavy doors shut firmly behind him. The vast Cangshu Pavilion was suddenly empty, save for Mu Feng alone.

Approaching the nearest shelf, his eyes fell upon a crystal case etched with three imposing characters: “Canglong Claw.” The script was bold, vibrant green light dancing across its surface, exuding fierce power.

Canglong Claw?

Mu Feng’s eyes brightened. While not the absolute top-tier technique, it enjoyed great renown within Mu Manor. Mastering it would grant terrifying striking strength — a single claw strike could pluck a fierce bird from the sky. Its power was incalculably greater than the most basic Mu Family Fist.

Good!

Without hesitation, Mu Feng reached out, intending to claim this powerful art. Yet, just as his fingertips brushed the crystal case — before he could even open it — a violent surge of energy erupted from its surface.

Pins and needles shot through his arm like electric shocks. His breath caught; his heart seemed lurch to a stop.

A Restriction?

Mu Feng yanked his hand back in shock, frowning deeply.

To help disciples find their most compatible techniques, Mu Manor enchanted each case. But even if the technique mismatched one’s bloodline, the case simply wouldn’t open; he’d never heard of such a ferocious backlash! Had he reacted a hair slower, his entire arm might have been crippled.

Puzzled, Mu Feng moved forward, carefully scanning the nearby cases. Soon, he stopped before one engraved with “Wind Wave Saber.”

Boasting even greater fame than Canglong Claw, Wind Wave Saber was reserved for elite core disciples. Legends spoke of mastery transforming even a raindrop or a breeze coiling around a fingertip into a deadly weapon. Centuries ago, a Mu Manor disciple wielding this technique assaulted a formidable bandit stronghold deep in the mist-shrouded mountains on a rainy night, slaughtering the entire gang of a thousand in a single night.

Good. Wind Wave Saber. This one!

Mu Feng took another deep, steadying breath and slowly reached out his hand.