50. Extreme Challenge 4v4

In a sense, a literary duel is fundamentally no different from a martial combat. Why is it that renowned, veteran martial arts masters in wuxia novels rarely make a move lightly? It is simply because once they strike and defeat an unknown youngster, there is no glory in it—after all, the master is already well-established. But if the master happens to lose that single bout, decades of hard-earned reputation can be wiped out overnight.

For a veteran master, such an endeavor holds countless risks and zero benefits. Yet in a literary duel, there is a prevailing maxim: in scholarship, there are no seniors and juniors; mastery comes first. Refusing to step into the arena is tantamount to cowardice and a hypocritical pursuit of fame. Therefore, stepping onto the stage is essentially a way to help the younger generation accumulate renown.

Now the Four Great Scholars finally came to their senses. One after another, they turned back to look at Old Zhang, but Old Zhang was chatting merrily with a student from the academy, paying no heed whatsoever to their awkward predicament.

Indeed, why would he care? Back when he first organized his group over there, he had brazenly told the four of them that they were coming along as a raid team to farm dungeon experience for the newly emerging "Number One in the World." Who could have known that after arriving, the four scholars of Jiangnan would instead end up becoming someone else's experience farming fodder?

Yet there was no helping it now. They simply had to bite the bullet and press on. Harboring resentment in their hearts, the four men stepped forward. They were paired off against four gifted youths from the academy, commencing duels across four distinct categories: poetry and prose, political discourse, mathematics, and military strategy.

This promised to be a magnificent spectacle. Having finished their midday meals, the local townsfolk gathered here once more. With full bellies and renewed vigor, the locals naturally began to cheer for the children of their own village. Meanwhile, those four youths appeared to be only fifteen or sixteen years old, dressed in plain clothes with their small cheeks flushed red from the cold, looking not unlike anyone of any extraordinary capability.

"Let us begin, then," Xia Lin said, lifting his chin slightly before turning to the academic official. "Academician Qiu, my four students possess different strengths. Zhu Qi excels in literature, known for his spiritual inspiration and erudition; he shall take the literary arts category. As for Tang Yang, the boy has a quick, slick, and agile mind; let him take the political discourse category. Song Chen is rigid, conscientious, and exceptionally sharp with words and numbers; let him take the mathematics category. And Zhou Huan—he is pugnacious and hot-tempered, yet barely passes as someone both courageous and resourceful; assign him the military strategy category. What is your opinion, Academician?"

Academician Qiu smiled and nodded. "Since they are your students, let it be as you wish."

Having said this, he turned his gaze toward the Four Great Scholars of Jiangnan. "And what say you all?"

What else could they say? Naturally, they had to step up. Fleeing from battle meant losing both face and ground, and these brats surely couldn't defeat them anyway; it was merely that earning a reputation for bullying the young with seniority and overpowering the weak with strength did not sound particularly pleasant.

Thus, the Four Great Scholars took up their favored subjects to face the rural scholars, pairing off for battle across the four disciplines.

With two groups comprising eight individuals in total, Academician Qiu began assigning questions to them separately. The literary arts category imposed no restrictions, allowing them the freedom to give full play to their talents—poetry, lyrics, prose, and rhymed compositions were all welcome. As for the statecraft category, namely political discourse, a potent medicine was administered: the topic was to weigh the pros and cons of the imperial examinations and discuss the root causes of reforming the Keju system.

Mathematics, by contrast, seemed relatively straightforward. The academician clearly possessed genuine skill, presenting two geometry problems and two ledger-accounting problems on the spot. In an era devoid of standard formulas, the difficulty of these problems was extraordinarily high, requiring written proof and derivation processes. Mathematics, from ancient times to the present, remained stubbornly identical; for subjects like political discourse or poetry, if one could not write, they could at least spout gibberish and improvise wildly. But if one could not do mathematics, then one truly could not do it. Even if a person sat there, chewed their brush to pieces, and swallowed the fragments, there was simply no way out if the answer eluded them.

The final military strategy category required both sides to use a temporary sandbox to simulate the Battle of Karagan from five years ago—the engagement where a disastrous defeat of the Wei army allowed the northern barbarians to drive straight in for seven hundred li. Zhou Huan held the banner of the Wei army, while his opponent, a scholar named Liao Tong, held the tribal banner of the barbarian forces.

The four clashes officially commenced. Xia Lin pointed a hand toward the townsfolk, and the crowd below instantly fell into a pin-drop silence. He himself picked up a gift box, sat down beside Academician Qiu, and began introducing him to the specialty products of Xinping Township.

Time ticked away minute by minute. The already gloomy weather suddenly yielded to falling snow. Just two days prior, the sun had been shining brightly, making today's sudden, heavy snowfall rather unexpected.

Snowflakes fluttered down in a dense flurry, yet the gathered crowd stubbornly stood their ground, refusing to disperse. The figures on the stage remained entirely motionless amidst the swirling snow, their minds already deeply immersed in their compositions, paying no heed even as their hands turned bright red from the chill.

Xia Lin sat with his arms crossed, whereupon Chun Tao stepped forward and draped a heavy overcoat over his shoulders. Xia Lin immediately unfastened it and draped it over Academician Qiu beside him. "Academician, it is cold. Do take care of your health."

Academician Qiu nodded at Xia Lin in gratitude. Xia Lin turned back to look at Chun Tao, who playfully stuck out her tongue before hurrying off to fetch another cloak to drape over him.

At that moment, he caught sight of Old Zhang not far away, shivering violently and gesturing toward him, mouthing the words: "Where's mine? Where's mine? The old man is about to freeze to death."

Xia Lin spat to the side. "Go eat shit!"

The examination process rapidly drew to a close. The first to submit his paper was Song Chen from the mathematics category. Despite his somewhat dull appearance, this youth exhibited astonishingly high efficiency. Academician Qiu glanced over his mathematical answers and the accompanying proof process, and couldn't help letting out an involuntary exclamation: "Inductive method? Oh, my, oh, my... This is a brilliant method! This is wonderful! Why on earth didn't I think of it?"

With that, he raised his head to cast an approving look at the young man, then asked, "How did you ever think of using the inductive method to solve this problem?"

Being an honest sort, Song Chen did not know how to respond. He instinctively looked up at Xia Lin, who immediately panicked. "Answer the academician! Why are you looking at me? Is there writing on my face?"

"Reporting to the academician... Our Master Xia compiled an exercise workbook containing problem-solving strategies for seventy-two major categories of questions. He said that mathematics in this world has ten thousand variations sharing the same underlying principles, and when encountering a problem, one simply meets the move and counters it."

Academician Qiu slowly turned his head to look at Xia Lin, who said with considerable embarrassment, "Ah, mere trifles, mere trifles."

"County Magistrate Xia, this method of mathematics is by no means a trifle. From the imperial treasury hoarding grain and dispatching troops, down to yamen ledgers and the livelihoods of ordinary citizens, it encompasses everything. I wonder..." Academician Qiu paused here, his tone carrying a hint of bashfulness. "I wonder if your humble self might borrow this exercise workbook for a perusal?"

"Borrow? Giving you a copy outright is hardly worth mentioning."

Having said this, Xia Lin signaled to Song Chen with a glance. "Go, fetch a brand-new copy and present it to Academician Qiu."

Song Chen hurried inside and brought one out. Upon receiving the exercise book, Academician Qiu was instantly struck with astonishment. The text within was not copied by hand, but printed. Not only was it printed, but it was executed with extraordinary exquisite detail—the page layout was clean, the characters were sharp, and the paper was heavy, thick, and smooth, bearing an absolute world of difference from the books seen on the open market.

Academician Qiu flipped through several pages, shocked not merely by the contents within, but even more so by the quality of the book. He even felt his hands begin to tremble. Why could ordinary people in this world not afford to study? One of the primary reasons was that books were prohibitively precious. The books in this world were duplicated through essentially two methods: manual copying and block printing. Both were undoubtedly cumbersome, time-consuming, and labor-intensive, while block-printed texts were often blurry, terribly soiled, cheap in price yet truly unpleasant to use.

Yet this... this... this... Where on earth could one find such a crisp printing technique? It was even clearer and more orderly than hand-copied manuscripts.

Nonetheless, Academician Qiu was a shrewd man. He merely closed the book quietly, bowed slightly to Xia Lin in gratitude, and then sat back down as if nothing had happened at all.

A smile surfaced on Xia Lin's face, and he said no more. Judging from Academician Qiu's expression just moments ago, he already knew his objective had been achieved.

Why was the Crossing of the Chishui River able to become a miracle in human strategy and tactics? It was because the entire core philosophy relied on directing and maneuvering the enemy. Today, Xia Lin had employed the exact same train of thought; what he wanted was to direct and command others—even the entire aristocratic gentry clique—to serve his own ends. Using a small force to conquer a giant was the true path to righteousness.

After all, if he had intended to rely solely on himself to promote his movable type printing press, it would have been nothing short of a fairy tale. But what if he let his enemies promote it for him? Heh, heh...

Let the bullets fly a little longer.

At that moment, the second person to submit his paper appeared: the two participants in the literary arts category. In matters of literature, as long as one wasn't utter nonsense, a few compliments could always be squeezed out. But when Zhu Qi's essay was handed over, Academician Qiu was clearly stunned. This parallel prose... this extensive citation of classics, this vibrant resonance—although it might not match the smooth and natural flow of the Preface to Prince Teng's Pavilion, one could tell at a glance that it came from a legitimate, high-class lineage.

And when he looked at Liang Shengwen, the so-called talent of Jiangnan... well, it was passable too.

"Very good" versus "passable"—the superiority had actually been judged already. Yet Academician Qiu was clever; he simply spoke up, saying, "Both of these essays are brimming with literary flair. If one truly insists on picking flaws, this Scholar Liang's essay is overly aged and lacks a touch of spiritual inspiration. As for Zhu Qi's essay, both spiritual inspiration and charm are present, though it is slightly immature."

Though it sounded like striking both parties with thirty boards, anyone with discerning eyes could immediately tell which was superior and which was inferior. Upon hearing this, Liang Shengwen turned beet red, flicked his sleeves, and stalked off, leaving behind nothing more than a cold harrumph.