Chapter 134: Establishing a Lasting Legacy Through Words-Into the World of Strange Tales(Chen Dynasty of the Southern Dynasties)

The spring breeze once again turned the southern riverbanks green, and this year’s Spring Festival passed amidst bustling crowds and laughter. The new "Literary Statutes" were finally published and released just one day before the Lantern Festival, without further delay.

The first batch of over a thousand copies sold in Jiangzhou was snapped up in a mere half-day, reflecting an unusually fervent market.

Chen Jianchen did not go to buy a copy himself, but instead asked Wang Fu to bring one back for him. He had no choice; who knew what specific provisions were laid out in the new statutes? Without reading them thoroughly and understanding their underlying intent, one might easily invite disaster through a slip of the tongue or a stroke of the pen.

The Literary Statutes were printed neatly with a black cover and vermilion characters on the front: "Literary Statutes."

The three characters were impeccably upright, square, and precise, as if measured with a ruler. Every stroke was balanced, evoking an immediate sense of sternness and commanding involuntary awe.

There was no doubt that the title was inscribed by the current sovereign, Emperor Zhengming, who was a recognized master of ritual and law, the foremost authority on regular script, and known as the "Model of Standards."

The volume was only half an inch thick, containing one hundred pages, with a preface at the beginning. Like all statutes, this preface was also written by the Emperor—for the Emperor is the Son of Heaven, receiving his mandate from above and representing supreme earthly power.

A sovereign’s word is never a joke; in fact, the Emperor’s commands are the unalterable golden laws that cannot be defied. If the sovereign orders a minister to die, the minister must obey; the common folk are no different. To put it bluntly, even if the Emperor were to have a whim and demand you pass gas immediately, you would have to "exert your internal energy" to squeeze one out on command.

This was because a casual remark from the Emperor became law.

Ranging from light to severe, the Literary Statutes contained 699 restrictive clauses, covering an incredibly vast scope—from speech to books, scrolls, poetry, and essays. Anything even remotely associated with words was implicated. It meticulously specified which terms and phrases were prohibited, and from the day the laws were promulgated, writing them down would be a criminal offense, with no mercy shown.

This was equivalent to placing tight shackles on the mouths and hands of the people.

Along with the thousand copies of the statutes, a detachment of one hundred Black-Shirt Guards arrived in Jiangzhou. Mounted on tall horses and armed with "Ghost-Slaying Sabers," they took up residence in the Jiangzhou prefectural office with an air of solemn intimidation. They were the enforcement squad for the new laws, responsible for their implementation. Any protesters would be severely punished according to the law—some placed in the cangue, some whipped, and others summarily beheaded to serve as a warning.

Under such brute force, even those deeply dissatisfied with the new laws were forced into a terrified silence. Several scholars with minor reputations in Jiangzhou, having expressed their resentment during a banquet, were caught by ears behind the walls. That very night, the ferocious Black-Shirt Guards broke down their doors, dragged them to prison, and beat them to death.

When the friends and relatives of these scholars went to the prefectural office to beat the drum of injustice, they were immediately driven out with clubs, leaving a dozen people with broken legs, wailing on the streets.

The Black-Shirt Guards had once again demonstrated their terrifying regulatory methods to the public, acting with the speed and force of thunder. They were an elite force responsible directly to the Emperor; under their blades, ministers, commoners, and scholars were all the same.

A thick, bloody atmosphere shrouded Jiangzhou—and in truth, it was likely the same in all other provinces under the dynasty’s rule. During this period, countless scholars lost their titles, were thrown into prison, or even forfeited their lives due to "inappropriate" speech or "transgressive" writing.

There were many scholars in the world, and many possessed pride and integrity. Yet, under the butcher’s knife, these noble spirits were all reduced to ghosts of injustice.

Because of the new laws, the Lantern Festival had turned into a Ghost Festival.

"When a nation is about to perish, monstrous evils will inevitably arise." Emperor Zhengming’s reliance on He Xie’s Literary Statutes was a perverse act that stirred public indignation across the land; it would inevitably exacerbate and worsen the internal conflicts.

***

Having finished reading the Literary Statutes and witnessing the various tragedies, Chen Jianchen immediately knew that chaos was imminent. He thought to himself, "Could it be that the Tian-Tong Dynasty, which has ruled for nearly a millennium, has reached the end of its fortune, leading the Emperor to make such a foolish move?"

Regardless, the river of time continued to flow forward without a moment’s hesitation.

In the second month of spring, the academy reopened.

Chen Jianchen packed his bags, bade farewell to his mother and the others, and returned. To his shock, he heard terrible news on the very first day: Old Master Liu, who taught calligraphy, had been arrested by the Black-Shirt Guards because of an "inappropriate" word in a scroll he had written. Refusing to admit guilt, he was beaten with eighty heavy rods on the spot, his flesh torn and mangled, until he vomited blood and died.

Old Master Liu was thin and tall, well past sixty, a simple man who often wore a robe washed to a pale white. His voice in lectures had a rhythmic, melodic quality; he was a teacher Chen Jianchen deeply respected, and he had never expected the man to meet such a cruel fate.

Upon hearing the news, Chen Jianchen was emotionally stirred. He remembered that when his "Liaozhai" shop had opened, Old Master Liu had come in person to offer his congratulations. Recalling the man’s voice and expression felt like it was only yesterday, leaving Chen Jianchen choked with grief.

That day, Chen Jianchen locked himself in his study, refusing to eat or drink. By dusk, he rose in a fit of righteous indignation. He spread out a sheet of rice paper, picked up his wolf-hair brush, and wrote a scroll in one breath:

"When a nation is about to perish, monstrous evils will inevitably arise; poisoning the world, the cruelty is intense. Alas, alas, my cries are shattered by grief. Why do we study the teachings of the sages? With unyielding righteous spirit, we shall exterminate the wicked!"

The forty large characters were written in a mix of running and cursive script—at times flowing, at times swift, with double-stroked outlines. It was as if the characters were slanting yet upright, the forms broken yet the intent connected. They were long, vigorous, and sharp, with varying speeds and intensities. The ink was applied with such mastery that the dynamic movement reflected the intense emotional transformation Chen Jianchen was undergoing.

Every stroke, every dot, and every hook was imbued with upright spirit.

As he wrote, the "True Scripture of the Three Fundamentals" scroll within his Niwan Palace seemed to sense his state. It leaped into action, and row after row of characters began to emit a brilliant radiance. In the end, half of the scroll lit up, presenting a magnificent sight.

Once finished, he threw the brush to the floor. Chen Jianchen stared at the calligraphy for a long time without a word. He had an intuition that this piece, which he named the "Scroll of Righteous Chaos," was likely the peak of his calligraphy for his entire life; he might never again be able to produce characters so full of form, meaning, and unbridled emotion.

Yet, this piece was destined not to survive; it had to be destroyed to avoid giving others a pretext to harm him.

As he picked up the scroll, Chen Jianchen felt a pang of reluctance and hesitated. He thought, "If only this calligraphy could become invisible." As he held this thought, he suddenly saw the ink on the paper fade from dark to light, undergoing a mysterious change. In the blink of an eye, the forty large characters vanished into thin air, leaving only a clean, white sheet of paper, as if they had been erased by magic.

"Eh!"

Chen Jianchen was startled. After a moment of contemplation, he closed his eyes and sensed his world of soul and spirit.

Sure enough, a new scene had appeared in the hazy world of his spirit. Beside the "True Scripture of the Three Fundamentals" that hung in the void, and the image of the scholar standing with a brush, there was now an additional scroll. It was smaller than the True Scripture, but it too hung unfurled, with forty fist-sized characters written in a dragon-like, dancing script:

The Scroll of Righteous Chaos!

It was indeed the very piece he had just written. Somehow, it had made its way into his Niwan Palace and now stood alongside the True Scripture, identical in form.

This was the "Establishment of Words"!

Chen Jianchen was filled with both surprise and joy. He had not expected that in a moment of righteous indignation and raw emotional expression, he would break through a long-standing bottleneck. With the help of hundreds of units of righteous spirit, he had truly achieved the realm of "Establishing Words," taking a firm and stable step forward.

To put it in specialized terms: he had leveled up!

If the constant condensation of new righteous spirit and the increase in its numerical value were like gaining "experience points," then this was a qualitative change brought about by a quantitative shift. He had leapt across the threshold with both feet.

He had finally leveled up.

The joy of his advancement momentarily diluted his initial sorrow and indignation. He sat still, closed his eyes, and began to explore the specific functions of the "Establishment of Words" realm.

An hour later, Chen Jianchen rose, feeling somewhat exhausted. After multiple experiments, he had finally grasped the utility of his new realm.

Simply put, his means of defeating enemies were no longer as singular or restricted as before. Although he could not yet release his righteous spirit outward to manifest as a sword, the ink imbued with his spirit was no longer ephemeral. It would not dissipate over time, losing its effectiveness.

He could now create a piece of "righteous ink" that could be used repeatedly; he could store it in his soul world to nourish it, which significantly increased the speed of his spiritual recovery. He could even refine a certain piece of calligraphy into a magical tool or even a powerful artifact. For instance, this "Scroll of Righteous Chaos" was now stored in his Niwan Palace; whenever he wished, with a mere thought, the ink would manifest, allowing him to defeat enemies without needing external materials.

More importantly, this scroll had considerable room for growth, allowing him to greatly enhance its effects and power, eventually reaching the level of the "True Scripture of the Three Fundamentals."

Of course, one could not "establish words" recklessly or without limit. Ultimately, it was constrained by his total volume of righteous spirit. At his current stage, creating a forty-character scroll was his limit. But he was still very satisfied; as long as his realm had improved, other things could be accumulated over time. Since he had achieved the "Establishment of Words," could the "Establishment of Merits" be far behind?

*Gurgle!*

At that moment, his stomach let out a loud rumble, like boiling water. He realized he had barely eaten all day and was famished.