For Some Reason

In the small courtyard, Li Junzi finished watering the vegetable garden, washed her hands, and then stepped inside the house.

At the desk, Lin Luoyu was absorbed in reading, her gaze distant and unfocused.

Li Junzi glanced at her and suddenly called out, "Your soul's wandered off somewhere."

Lin Luoyu jolted, her eyes snapping to Li Junzi.

Li Junzi picked up the teapot and poured a cup of water. "If you're tired, rest or go for a walk. The books will always be here."

Lin Luoyu pursed her lips and murmured softly, "Teacher..."

"Hmm?" Li Junzi looked at her questioningly.

Lin Luoyu lowered her head, lightly tracing the book in front of her. "Teacher... you've already done enough. You could go to Gentleman Mountain now."

Li Junzi's expression cleared in understanding. "Ah, so Luoyu is tired of having me around."

"I'm not!" Lin Luoyu lifted her head.

Li Junzi smiled warmly. "Hmph, I don’t believe you."

Lin Luoyu didn’t argue this time, nor did she speak. She simply sat in silence.

No one is obligated to sacrifice for another. The more one reads, the more one understands.

But with understanding comes sorrow—things that once didn’t matter now weigh heavily.

It wasn’t like before, when she could freely adore Li Junzi and openly despise the villagers, cursing them behind their backs without a care.

The books said such things were trivial, especially in the grand journey of life.

But Lin Luoyu disagreed—though she didn’t dare contradict the words of those great minds.

They were written by people far wiser than she could ever be.

Just like now, she wanted to selfishly pretend she hadn’t heard Li Junzi’s words, to beg her not to leave.

But she had read enough to know what it meant to be a Great Scholar, and the sacrifices it demanded.

Li Junzi was extraordinary.

And she? Just a starving little girl.

Li Junzi studied Lin Luoyu’s expression for a moment before silently picking up a brush and paper. A pure white aura flowed from her hand as she wrote—

Gentle Breeze.

Lin Luoyu’s eyes widened in shock. "Teacher?! Are you... a demon?!"

Thwack!

Li Junzi rapped Lin Luoyu’s head with the brush handle.

Frowning in mock anger, she said, "Do I look like a demon with all this righteous energy around me?"

Lin Luoyu glanced at Li Junzi, then at the glowing words Gentle Breeze shimmering on the paper.

Defiantly, she argued, "The books say demons disguise themselves as beautiful and righteous to trick people. If they were ugly and fierce, who’d fall for it?"

Li Junzi didn’t know whether to laugh or scold.

In the end, she did both, her stern expression breaking into a chuckle.

She lifted the paper inscribed with Gentle Breeze and gave it a light shake.

The characters dissolved into motes of light, and a refreshing wind swept from the page. As it brushed past Lin Luoyu, the weight in her chest lifted, her mind calming.

Li Junzi teased, "Still think I’m a demon?"

Lin Luoyu shook her head vigorously, curiosity sparkling in her eyes.

"Want to learn?" Li Junzi asked.

Lin Luoyu nodded—then wilted, shaking her head.

"But Teacher is meant to become a Great Scholar... You shouldn’t waste time on me."

Li Junzi handed her the brush. "I can only become a Great Scholar. But you? You’ll climb higher and go farther. That’s why I’ve stayed so long. The world has plenty of Great Scholars—it doesn’t need one more."

Lin Luoyu looked at her in confusion. "Are you just saying that to comfort me?"

Li Junzi didn’t answer, only smiled and nudged the brush toward her.

Though puzzled, Lin Luoyu took it.

"Entering the path of a scholar isn’t hard—mastery is," Li Junzi said, placing a fresh sheet before her. "Most can write Gentle Breeze after reading ten thousand books."

"But to write Gale? Sometimes, even a million books won’t suffice."

"I’ve never told you this, but your talent surpasses mine at your age."

"You grasp the essence of words and know your heart’s desires. Half of reading is for truth—right or wrong, everyone has their own interpretation."

"The only thing keeping you from wielding the brush is a sliver of confidence."

Lin Luoyu’s heart raced. Under Li Junzi’s encouraging gaze, she raised the brush—

And fiercely wrote: Gale!

She waited.

The characters looked clumsy, nothing like the radiant glow of Li Junzi’s writing.

Bewildered, she looked up—Teacher, are you fooling me?

Thwack!

Another tap from the brush handle.

"Wielding the brush isn’t just about writing. You must understand the meaning behind it. Remember the summaries I always made you write? What is Gale? How do you interpret it?"

"Remember the Thousand-Word Classic I had you memorize?"

"Every character you know, every new thought you’ve had—they all become the strength in your hand."

Lin Luoyu nodded slowly.

Then, with solemn focus, she lifted the brush again and began to write.

Li Junzi lowered her gaze and saw that Lin Luoyu had already written half of the character for "fierce" in the phrase "fierce wind."

Hmm... Lin Luoyu really is quite fierce.

Just moments ago, she had claimed that even after reading a million books, one might not necessarily be able to write "fierce wind."

Li Junzi sighed softly and waited quietly for Lin Luoyu to finish the character, intending to advise her afterward not to aim too high too soon.

Originally, she hadn’t planned to teach her so early, wanting to let her simmer a while longer. But given the circumstances, she had no choice but to proceed, lest Lin Luoyu’s mind grow restless.

Lin Luoyu focused intently, feeling the brush in her hand grow heavier.

At the same time, the books she had read in the past seemed to materialize in her mind, their pages flipping rapidly—every character, every sentence.

Each book, whether dim or bright, emitted a pure white radiance, transforming into a force that propelled the weighty brush forward.

Suddenly, the brush in Lin Luoyu’s hand felt light again.

The two characters for "fierce wind" were completed in an instant.

Boom!

A gale erupted from the room, flinging open the windows, tearing the door from its hinges, sending chickens squawking in alarm, shaking the trees, and stirring up clouds of dust.

Li Junzi stood frozen in shock.

Meanwhile, Lin Luoyu slumped onto the table, fast asleep, as if utterly drained.

Li Junzi’s expression softened. She had underestimated Lin Luoyu.

The world did not lack great scholars like her—what it lacked was a Sage.

Her decision to stay had yielded an unexpected reward.

Li Junzi knew she would never become a Sage, but Lin Luoyu would.

In the blink of an eye, seven years passed.

The once-scrawny Lin Luoyu had blossomed into a graceful young woman.

"Fierce wind" was no longer a constraint but the beginning of a journey spanning thousands of miles.

Lin Luoyu’s progress was astonishingly swift. Among the three foundational realms of Confucian cultivation—Grasping the Brush, Expanding the Texts, and Illuminating Principle—she had already reached Illuminating Principle.

Her speed was so staggering that even Li Junzi couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy.

Yet, a deep-seated hope swelled in her heart—she was witnessing the rise of a Sage.

The world had gone too long without a Sage, and the Confucian path had languished in decline for far too long.

After all, the Dao of Immortal Cultivation was the dominant path of the world, leaving Confucian cultivation in the shadows.

Even the rough-and-tumble path of martial artists now seemed to have outpaced that of scholars.

A martial artist’s talent could be discerned from their bone structure—either they had it or they didn’t.

But Confucian scholars were different. There were geniuses with photographic memories who couldn’t grasp the brush, and prodigies of unparalleled intellect who failed to illuminate principle.

Her own junior brother was a prime example. Once hailed as a future great scholar, he had spent decades without even reaching the basic level of a Confucian scholar.

The Confucian path was fraught with uncertainty and steeped in sunk costs.

Too many had read ten thousand volumes yet failed to grasp the brush, or wasted half their lives without even writing a gentle breeze.

Every step a martial artist took yielded tangible progress, but every book a Confucian scholar read was like pouring water into an unfathomable vessel—no one knew when it would finally fill.

Li Junzi loved reading, which was why she had endured years of hardship to make Gentleman Mountain break its rules for her.

And it was precisely because she loved reading that she was willing to stay and mentor a potential Sage, to reignite the world’s passion for books.

Reading should not be futile.

Li Junzi had now spent nine full years in Lin Family Village.

Her once-jet-black hair was now streaked with silver, and the letters she sent to her master had gone unanswered for three years.

At times, Li Junzi felt sorrow, but she knew her master would understand once Lin Luoyu unleashed her righteous aura.

She finished feeding the chickens and ducks, watered the vegetable patch, then picked up a kitchen knife to prepare dinner.

By her estimate, Lin Luoyu should be returning soon from the academy’s debate.

A scholar at the Illuminating Principle realm debating in a school of Grasping the Brush students was practically a giant bullying children.

Lin Luoyu often returned feeling bored, vowing never to go again.

But Li Junzi always urged her to attend, knowing it was preparation for the Great Scholar realm.

With dinner ready, Li Junzi sat quietly at the table, waiting for Lin Luoyu’s return.

Before long, Lin Luoyu arrived.

But unlike her usual demeanor, her expression was somber, as if she had encountered an insurmountable problem.

Li Junzi teased lightly, "What’s wrong? Did someone out-argue you today?"

Lin Luoyu slumped into her chair, visibly distraught. She lifted her head and met Li Junzi’s gaze, forcing out the words with difficulty:

"Teacher... I don’t want to study anymore."

Li Junzi froze, her mind momentarily blank.

"What did you say?" She thought she must have misheard.

Lin Luoyu seemed to steel herself. She looked up at Li Junzi and repeated, "Studying doesn’t seem to be what I want. I don’t want to read anymore."

"You don’t want to study? Then you’re giving up all your Confucian cultivation?"

"If I don’t want it, then I won’t keep it. You taught me, Teacher—truth lies in one’s heart."

Li Junzi’s breath grew heavy. She didn’t know how to refute this.

Nine years—her own Confucian cultivation had not advanced an inch.

Nine years—she had all but vanished from the world, staying here in obscurity.

She had sacrificed too much. The way Lin Luoyu had once loved reading had made Li Junzi believe this was a joyous mutual journey.

Suppressing the storm of emotions in her heart, Li Junzi asked calmly:

"If you don’t study, then what will you do?"

"I don’t know yet. Maybe I’ll try immortal cultivation."

"Cultivating immortality?" Li Junzi's eyes could no longer conceal his disappointment. "Is immortality truly better than pursuing knowledge?"

Lin Luoyu took a deep breath and replied, "In my eyes, neither is superior to the other, but—"

For only the second time in his life, Li Junzi interrupted someone:

"Then keep studying. Study until you become a Sage—then even the mightiest immortals will have to yield."

Lin Luoyu fixed her gaze on Li Junzi, sensing something unfamiliar.

Today, for some reason, the teacher's eyes seemed to look right through her, as if she were no longer there.