Make a scene! Make the biggest scene possible!

"Challenge our academy? Do you even have what it takes?"

Xia Lin sat directly on the threshold of the township academy. "How about this? Have an internal selection first and pick out the ones you consider prodigies. As for the rest of you mediocracies, don't embarrass yourselves in front of me."

With that, he patted the threshold beneath him. "Remember, a prodigy only gets as far as my doorstep."

How arrogant those words were. The "Four Great Scholars of Jiangnan" were practically fuming with rage on the spot. One of them stepped forward—not that Xia Lin was one to judge by appearance, but this fellow truly was exceptionally ugly.

He had a short and stocky build, an oily complexion, a plate-sized face, and a forehead covered entirely in acne. At a glance, he looked precisely like an underbaked sesame seed cake, hideous to the absolute limit.

"I had heard that you, Xia Daosheng, were arrogant, but I never imagined you could be arrogant to this degree. However, I must remind this arrogant friend of mine that an academy is not merely a place for teaching poetry and fu. Academies produce talents capable of ruling the realm and mending the heavens. If you think that writing a single parallel prose or composing a long poem gives you the right to be haughty and full of yourself, then today I shall broaden your horizons!"

"You? What kind of creature are you? You're going to broaden my horizons? What horizons will I see? A glimpse of your third-rate martial arts?" Xia Lin's face was plastered with impatience as he turned to look at Old Zhang, his expression full of disdain. "Zhang Zhongchun, is this the helper you invited? As it happens, I have a recipe for baked peach shortbread. Why don't you simply gift it to this brother here so he can go back and open a pastry shop? It would save him from making a fool of himself here."

Xia Lin's unbridled audacity made the scholars from Yuzhang Academy burn with fury. Indeed, everyone present had read the *Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng* and were well aware of *Flowers by the River on a Spring Moon Night*, but that did not mean the person before them possessed the capital for such arrogance. Poetry and fu were merely trivial pursuits; the art of statecraft was the true grand path. One could tell just from his opening remarks mocking the top policy-writer of Yueyang that this Xia Daosheng was merely the sort of person who relied on a bit of innate talent to act with unbridled recklessness.

"You are just as arrogant as you always were. Fortunately, I broke ties with you long ago! Let me tell you, this is none other than the foremost expert in policy discourse in Yueyang, the runner-up in the imperial examinations, and a man who debated state affairs with the Emperor in the palace—Zhang Teng, style name Zheyue!"

Hearing Old Zhang's booming introduction, the sesame-cake-faced scholar raised his head with a proud expression. Xia Lin, however, turned his head sideways and chuckled, causing Old Zhang's brow to furrow. "Be serious!"

"My apologies," Xia Lin waved a hand. "I couldn't help laughing."

To outsiders, the exchange between the two of them showed that this Xia Daosheng regarded no one else as his equal. The hot-headed ones among them were about to step forward to argue, but they were stopped by Old Zhang.

Before the people from Yuzhang Academy could speak, however, Xia Lin took the initiative. "You want to challenge the academy, fine. You want to tear down our plaque, fine as well. But there has to be someone to deliver a fair verdict, doesn't there? We can't let victory or defeat be decided solely by your biased words. Who is going to act as the adjudicator?"

The meaning behind his words was exceedingly clear: they needed to find a referee. If there wasn't even a referee, there was no point in talking further.

Yet Old Zhang was clearly well-prepared. He chuckled softly. "Knowing that you are as slippery as a cunning hare, I invited the great Confucian scholar and academic official Qiu from Hongdu Prefecture long ago. He will arrive by noon. What do you have to say to that?"

"What is there to say? We'll talk when he gets here." Xia Lin waved his hand. "If you have nothing better to do, stop trying to disgust me. Off you go, shoo, shoo."

His attitude was abominable, enough to fill anyone with suppressed fury. The scholars who had traveled from afar were especially full of grievances; they had been warned by Master Zhang that this Xia Daosheng was exceptionally difficult to get along with, but they never expected anyone in this world to be difficult to this extent—he was practically a malevolent ghost reincarnated. Moreover, while the man possessed a certain degree of talent, his cultivation and manners were utterly atrocious, as if he had read all the books of the sages into a dog's belly.

As for the invited "Four Great Scholars of Jiangnan," each of their faces turned ashen. But this posed no difficulty for Old Zhang. He chuckled and turned around, saying, "Pay no mind to this fellow; when the time comes, senior brothers, you can just devour him alive. Now that everyone has come from afar, I happen to know of a wonderful place in Xinping Township. How about I take you all there to relax?"

Xia Lin knew the place Old Zhang was talking about; this bastard was most likely going to mooch foot massages from people again. But that was only to be expected. If he didn't do such things, he wouldn't be Zhang Zhongchun. The man was someone who would stop to savor the flavor even if a nightsoil bucket passed right by his door. For these scholars to get mixed up with him was truly more ill-fated than stepping in dung. Yet ever since this fellow had completely cast away his shame, he lacked even an ounce of self-awareness. Scamming, bluffing, and swindling were well on their way to becoming his primary trade.

"Zhang Zhongchun," Xia Lin called out. "If you don't take your trash left behind here away, I'm going to burn it for you."

"Go ahead and burn it then."

Ignoring them, Xia Lin turned and walked back inside. "Just wait."

He walked inside, rummaged through some discarded items, and swiftly pulled out a self-made pencil to scribble furiously on a small slip of paper. He rolled the paper into a tight cylinder, stuffed it inside a writing brush, and then walked back out carrying the pile of rubbish.

"Here, take it. This is all the junk you left behind."

Throwing the pile of items right at Old Zhang's feet, his arrogance and the sheer contempt in his tone were enough to turn anyone into a hater at first glance.

Looking at the items on the ground, Old Zhang let out a long sigh. He turned and began to pick through the pile of waste, murmuring softly, "These were all items from when I taught you how to write back then. Oh well, give them all back to me."

Not only did these words display the fortitude of enduring public humiliation, but they also radiated deep affection and righteousness, instantly turning Xia Lin into the villain who had broken faith and betrayed justice.

Xia Lin crossed his arms and sneered, "As if I needed you to teach me! Take a look at your own worth."

Without a word, Old Zhang squatted down and picked up the writing brushes. "I'll be taking these back."

With that, he turned and walked away with a desolate air. Immediately, the Four Great Scholars swarmed around him, offering comfort with competing voices. As Xia Lin watched their retreating backs, a smile finally surfaced on his face.

However, the township was about to become extremely lively. The news of the challenge had already spread far and wide, and coupled with the rumor that the two creators of the world-renowned *Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng*—its prose and painting—had actually broken off all relations, it became earth-shattering headline news. For a time, people from all around, regardless of whether they studied at the township academy or not, hurried out of their homes and onto the roads, all wishing to witness the ultimate showdown between these two peerless talents.

Meanwhile, using the excuse of feeling unwell, Old Zhang remained behind at the inn. Acting like a covert operative, he meticulously dismantled the writing brush and shook out the contents hidden within.

There were five slips of paper in total: outlines for water conservancy, city fortification, and military colonization from the *Three Classics of Statecraft*, along with one piece of parallel prose and one piece of regular prose. The parallel prose was titled *Ode to the E-Fang Palace*, while the regular prose was titled *Memories of Yueyang Tower*.

Without a moment to waste, Old Zhang began copying them down and committing them to memory. Yet halfway through memorizing, he suddenly slapped his thigh and cursed, "This damn dirty scoundrel actually has real skills, but mother of God, this is ridiculously hard to memorize..."

After memorizing the two articles, which even he found breathtaking, he proceeded to draft his policy essays based on the outlines provided by Xia Lin. Though Old Zhang was not skilled at composing poetry, his policy essays were absolute masterpieces. He had been a legitimate young imperial scholar; had his mouth not ruined his prospects, the title of Third-Class Imperial Graduate (Tanhua) would have already been his.

The Tanhua was a title even more delightful than the top scholar (Zhuangyuan), because while a Zhuangyuan only needed talent, a Tanhua needed to possess both talent and striking good looks. Old Zhang had been merely a step away from becoming a Tanhua; one could easily imagine the extent of his mastery over policy essays.

Now, equipped with the outlines, he was like a fish back in the water. First came water conservancy, which, to put it plainly, was an adaptation of a bidding document for a river-and-banks engineering project that Xia Lin had dug up and rewritten into policy essay format. Not only did this flood-control philosophy avoid sensitive ideologies, but it also surpassed the current overall governance model by a good number of years—it was advanced to the extreme.

Military colonization was even simpler, focusing primarily on discussions regarding development redlines and agricultural taxes. The city fortification outline, however, was somewhat unorthodox because Xia Lin's suggestion to Old Zhang was to abolish the traditional concept of walled cities, expand urban scales, and take the safeguarding of people's livelihood as the core entry point. Deep yet accessible, under Old Zhang's polishing and elaboration, it appeared exceptionally smooth and brilliant.

At that moment, Chuntao served Xia Lin's midday meal on the table. However, after setting down the dishes, she neither took a seat nor left, which piqued Xia Lin's curiosity. "Sister Chuntao, are you still reminiscing about this morning?"

Chuntao's face flushed slightly. She bit her lower lip and asked out of curiosity, "Master, when did you and Zhang... Zhang..."

"You can just call him Old Zhang."

"When did you break ties with Old Zhang? I had no idea..."

As she said this, a trace of sorrow inevitably welled up in Chuntao's heart. If even a matter of such magnitude was not shared with her, it meant she was still regarded merely as an ordinary maidservant, and a sense of bitterness was naturally unavoidable.

"Oh, that. We're on perfectly good terms," Xia Lin chuckled. "Have you ever heard of creating momentum? The strong never complain about their environment. Right now, both our township academy and Yuzhang Academy need fame—immense fame. And this is precisely the moment to build up our strength. Old Zhang and I are performing a rendition of *Farewell My Concubine*. I am Xiang Yu, and he is the concubine."

At this, Chuntao finally understood and covered her mouth with a giggle. "You scholars really have the filthiest minds."