Chapter Thirty-six: Clarity of Heart

(In the book review section, a few readers cite classical references and debate what constitutes true "Righteous Spirit" and how it should be cultivated, claiming only certain forms are authentic... But in truth, there has never been a definitive conclusion about this concept. Perhaps you think you understand, perhaps he thinks he does, but to be honest, I truly don’t. Those who grasp it may pursue cultivation, but as for me, who doesn’t, I can only write novels and imagine it—nothing more!)

The next day, Chen Jianchen rose early as usual, his spirit undiminished, bright-eyed and lively. After washing and dressing, he ate breakfast in the academy’s dining hall, then proceeded to class.

Today’s lecture covered Chapter Eight of "The Virtue Book," which discussed how one ought to become a person of noble character and thus a gentleman. It was said, "A gentleman is courteous and respectful, never overstepping propriety, never contending with others, nor battling the world, but calmly accepting the will of Heaven..."

Chen Jianchen listened, bemused. There was no denying these words were grand principles, but the greater the principle, the more empty and hollow it seemed, lacking much worth in practice. If one were to conduct oneself solely by these lofty ideals, one would become rigid and inflexible, unable to adapt—a mere pedantic relic reciting old doctrines; yet if one spoke one thing and acted another, one would become hypocritical and cunning.

Thus, one must respond to circumstances, adapting with the times, ever moving forward.

For example, "The Book of Rites" says, "A gentleman’s attire must conform, clothing and hat must be proper," meaning a gentleman’s etiquette should follow the teachings of sages, with dress and appearance meticulous and upright.

It sounds elegant, but if one clings to such elaborate rituals in times of peril, it would be courting disaster.

To lose one's life over the proper angle of a hat—can that be the act of a true gentleman?

Yet "The True Chapter of Three Principles" describes the gentleman differently: "Investigate things to gain knowledge," "Adhere to the principle of the heart"; this "principle of the heart" means the fundamental rule must be unwavering, with no room for compromise—once compromised, the foundation is lost, and nothing remains to anchor one's position.

Take the scholarly atmosphere of the Tian Tong Dynasty: everyone proclaims, "The Master spoke not of strange powers or spirits," but come any festival, all flock to worship gods and spirits, burn incense and paper, praying for fortune and luck.

Such inconsistency reveals a lack of resolute, pure conviction. Thus, even if one reads ten thousand volumes, how could one write with inspiration?

To follow the path of Confucian cultivation, one's heart must be free of gods and spirits—neither believing, honoring, nor fearing them. Only then does the righteous path form, and only then can one nourish the Righteous Spirit—this Righteous Spirit is the Confucian miracle, the source of protection and life. The cultivation of mind and nature, the extensive reading of books, all are processes in pursuit of this miracle, much like Buddhist monks who strike bells and chant sutras daily, seeking enlightenment.

Yet, if misunderstood, one easily strays: cultivating mind and nature may lead to bookish dullness, extensive reading to a head stuffed with dogma, or worse, a jumble of nonsense.

How, then, could one grasp the truth that "understanding worldly affairs is knowledge, and mastery of human relations is literature"?

Therefore, though scholars abound in the Tian Tong Dynasty, those who can truly condense the Righteous Spirit are as rare as phoenix feathers, one in ten thousand.

On this point, Chen Jianchen had undeniably taken a tremendous shortcut: possessing the Evil-Dispelling Pen, its tip unveiled the Truth Chapter, directly opening the Niwan Palace and receiving true transmission.

Yet even so, he must adhere steadfastly to the principle of the heart to achieve real progress and breakthrough. Thus, when the arrogant Land Spirit of Jingyang Village first came to accuse him, how could Chen Jianchen bow and confess?

To do so would overturn all the convictions he had gained from "The True Chapter of Three Principles."

Spirits have their way, as do Confucians. On matters of conviction, the two are fundamentally opposed.

Scholars destroying temples and idols is hardly blameworthy; to have scholars raise temples and pray to gods seems absurd. Moreover, when the Yin Spirits intrude uninvited into his dreams, it is an act of violation—at best causing fright, at worst damaging the soul. In such circumstances, for Chen Jianchen to treat the Land Spirit courteously would be laughable and senseless. If another ordinary scholar were faced with this, he would likely kneel and beg for mercy, submitting to the spirit’s will.

Later, the Underworld, seeking to save face, sent Ox-Head and Horse-Face after him; at this point, there was nothing left to discuss.

Right and wrong were a muddled account, impossible to unravel—each side had its reasons, each identity its perspective. Ultimately, it came down to strength. As the saying goes, "A scholar meets a soldier, reason cannot be explained." No matter how eloquent your tongue, the other can simply cut you down; no matter how upright and impartial you believe yourself, the other can still cut you down without hesitation.

Good people rarely meet with good ends—not because of their kindness, but because they lack means to protect and sustain themselves!

Chen Jianchen, having experienced much, understood this deeply. Since the conflict could not be reconciled, there was no need to attempt reconciliation—he could simply hold fast to his own principle of the heart. Should the Underworld persist in causing trouble, he would not cower or retreat.

With these thoughts, Chen Jianchen felt an innate aversion to the teacher’s lectures, which always began with a minor point and spun interminable arguments, citing endless references, longer and more tedious than an old woman’s binding cloth. This reminded Chen Jianchen of a classic anecdote: "The scholar bought a donkey; three pages of contracts were written, but not a word about the donkey itself."

Much the same.

Clearly, the path of studying Eight-legged Essays for the imperial examinations was not one he could follow.

—The Tian Tong Dynasty’s rigid prescription of Eight-legged Essay format for all scholars was intended to ossify their thinking, anchor their minds, so they would obediently serve the dynasty.

This, Chen Jianchen had long seen through; how could he be caught in such a net? Moreover, reading these so-called sage texts was not only unhelpful for cultivating Righteous Spirit but actively harmful, muddying his heart’s resolve.

Chen Jianchen was no longer the ignorant youth of Wu; the inability to pursue the imperial examination troubled him far less than before. The world before him was far broader than imagined, with many more paths to follow. When the time was right, he would lay out the doctrines and principles of "The True Chapter of Three Principles," compose them into writings, and disseminate them widely.

This is what is called "establishing one’s words."

Of course, at present, it was impossible—he lacked the stature and foundation. If he rashly proclaimed his doctrines, he would swiftly be denounced and even punished as a "heretic," sentenced to death.

But once Chen Jianchen had fully mastered "The True Chapter of Three Principles," comprehending it thoroughly, that opportunity would surely come.

...

Sitting in the lifeless, stagnant classroom, Chen Jianchen’s mind suddenly cleared. He gained insight, and at once felt a tremor within his Niwan Palace. That gray, hazy realm was suddenly pierced by a burst of light, from which flew a lengthy text, hanging in the void—the complete "True Chapter of Three Principles," every character bold and soaring, dragon and phoenix in their elegance, ethereal beyond compare.

Righteous Spirit!

In that moment, Chen Jianchen finally sensed the presence of Righteous Spirit. Though faint—a mere thread—it was nonetheless a tremendous breakthrough.

A breach had appeared in this world.