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“Virtue… Of three thousand zhang.”

The grey-robed abbess from the Seven Dust Temple spoke with difficulty.

“Who is this senior Daoist… What divine being could he be?”

A powerful figure spoke solemnly.

“Could it be… A saint has manifested?!”

Shen Li’s heart shook as he trembled with these words.

…It must be so! It must be so!”

Beside him, Hu Qingsong, the vice chancellor of Sancai Academy, was visibly excited:

“He Yuanfeng acted against the heavens, seeking to destroy our Confucian lineage… Heaven has not forsaken our Confucian path! Heaven has not forsaken us!”

After speaking, the Vice Chancellor laughed and cried simultaneously, overwhelmed by his emotions.

In the high heavens.

He Yuanfeng’s golden light of virtue was dispersed by Lu Xuan, and he knelt on the ground.

“You, as the leader of the Confucian path, have willingly fallen into demonhood, severed the fate of the Confucian path, and usurped the talent of the world’s scholars. Do you acknowledge your guilt?”

Lu Xuan’s voice was stern.

“Acknowledge what guilt?!”

He Yuanfeng, knowing there was no escape, retorted defiantly, his aged face contorted with bulging veins.

“Even if I hadn’t taken this world’s literary fortune, someone else would have coveted the saintly position with the secret method in the future. It was my opportunity, so I took it!”

“Your heart has fallen into demonhood, stubbornly ignorant!”

Lu Xuan sneered, “With a demon’s heart, how dare you presume to understand the mind of a gentleman? This method of severing the Confucian fate and taking the world’s talent was created by your master!”

“What?!”

He Yuanfeng’s face showed utter disbelief.

“He achieved the pinnacle of the Transcendence Stage, and he was only half a step from true immortality, and yet could not find the proper method. In his deep research, he developed this sacrificial method to become a saint.” Lu Xuan looked at He Yuanfeng.

“But even until his passing, he never used that secret technique, maintaining the original intention he had when he first entered the path.”

Lu Xuan sighed, “You’re not as good as him.”

He Yuanfeng’s master, the former Chancellor, had known Lu Xuan. At that time, Lu Xuan had assumed an alternate identity, changing his name and appearance. The old principal, unaware of Lu Xuan’s true identity, saw him merely as a young, innovative teacher.

Under Lu Xuan’s guidance, He Yuanfeng’s master established the Cultivation Daily, a legacy that had endured for over 5,000 years.

Lu Xuan had incidentally discovered that the Chancellor was secretly researching a forbidden technique. After completing his research, the Chancellor locked away the method, never to revisit it. He may have contemplated its use, but ultimately, he chose to abandon it.

In his heart, no true goodness prevailed.

Lu Xuan respected the old principal as a great scholar.

The energy in the sky dissipated, transforming into countless forms, each returning to its rightful master.

Crimson flames engulfed He Yuanfeng, who struggled in vain. His soul and body disintegrated into nothingness, a victim of karmic backlash. The grand fate of the Confucian Sect was not something to be trifled with.

Similar to an ancient rebellion, success would bring ascension, but failure demanded a heavy price.

On Sancai Square, the students of Sancai Academy were stirred, cheering for the Saint that had appeared out of nowhere.

The towering figure did not turn around. He walked away, leaving only a trail of light behind him.

In the depths of the Southern Ridge’s mountains, demonic sounds faded, and the forest fell silent.

In the giant lake, a massive figure sank, concealing its presence.

In the Central Plains Empire, the Human Emperor of Grand Xia silently retracted his decree.

In the Great Impermanence Temple of the Western Desert, the Buddha emotionlessly resumed his teachings.

In the Northern Plains’ Sky Sword Sect, Ji Lingchen laughed heartily, then left for seclusion, saying, “The time has come.”

The fortune of the Confucian Way was restored, and the talent stolen by He Yuanfeng returned to its original owners.

In the imperial examination hall, students resumed writing, their thoughts flowing freely.

On the pleasure boat, the middle-aged scholar found inspiration for the second half of his poem, earning admiration from those around.

In the cottage, the old man completed his final draft, leaving a few blank lines before writing the concluding poem:

“In the past, I was a disciple at Wen Sheng Temple, bearing the burden of morality.”

“I listened to the morning drum before the mirror, swearing an oath under the statue of the former teacher.’

“Time flies like an arrow, and five thousand years have passed.”

Sancai Academy.

“Bang!”

Cheng Lingzhu finished her drink in one gulp, slamming the cup onto the table with force, then turned her face towards Lu Xuan.

“How many cups now?”

Lu Xuan looked at her.

The two were at a banquet in Sancai Academy.

That morning, He Yuanfeng had attempted to sever the talent of the world and disrupt the Confucian path. Fortunately, a Saint manifested and suppressed him.

Such an event was, of course, worth celebrating.

Hence, at the suggestion of Zhang Xun and Chen Xu, various departments of Sancai Academy organized this banquet.

The banquet had separate dining arrangements, with two people sharing a small table, reminiscent of an ancient custom.

Lu Xuan and Cheng Lingzhu shared a table, but since the banquet started, Cheng Lingzhu had been continuously drinking.

She would take a sip, glance at him, blush, and then take another sip.

Lu Xuan thought to himself that although he was handsome, being used as an excuse for drinking was a bit of a waste.

With the constitution of a cultivator, alcohol naturally wouldn’t harm their bodies. In fact, due to their robust physiques, it was difficult for them to get drunk. The alcohol they drank could be fatal to ordinary people.

But by releasing their internal restrictions, cultivators could still experience drunkenness.

At a nearby table, Zhang Xun was already slurring his words, his face flushed red:

“Today, witnessing the manifestation of our former teacher, I will never forget it in my life… Three thousand Zhang of virtue, something I’d only heard about in legends, and today I finally know what it looks like.”

“Yes.”

Someone beside him said, “We, as students of the academy, should compile today’s events into a record. First, to warn the world not to forget their initial intentions like the old Chancellor, and second, to spread the teachings of our former teacher and promote the way of the saint.”

“Indeed, indeed.”

The others agreed in unison.

Lu Xuan listened, finding it amusing, his lips curving into a smile.

Those present were all students of the Sancai Academy, young people with a fiery passion and a heart for righteousness.

That morning, Lu Xuan had dispersed He Yuanfeng’s golden light of virtue in the sky above Sancai Square, simply because his was larger.

Here, it referred to the Heavenly Dao’s virtue.

Frankly speaking, Lu Xuan himself wasn’t very clear about how he acquired such dazzling golden light of virtue.

All he knew was that ever since his Nascent Soul had gone astray, his body had been emitting virtue, and each time in immense quantities.

The Heavenly Dao’s virtue was tallied every three years, and after nine thousand years of forming his Nascent Soul, the virtue on Lu Xuan had become immeasurably dense.

Years ago, he conducted an experiment. He took a chicken from the Dao Evolution Sect’s kitchen that had been raised for two and a half years, shone it with the light of virtue, and then roasted it over fire.

When they ate the chicken, a bunch of relics burst out, multicolored and containing the light of the law.

Lu Xuan later traded these relics for a pot of wine outside..