Chapter Four: The Hundred Schools of Thought

I recall from my previous life’s knowledge of that illusory world, where the various schools of thought stood side by side, heroes rose in countless numbers, and a hundred schools contended in both debate and brilliance, each striving to ensure the longevity of their teachings. Yet, in the end, Confucianism prevailed.

However, in the present age, the landscape is different: Legalism, Daoism, Mohism, Confucianism, Yin-Yang School, the School of Names, Miscellaneous Schools, Agrarianism, Novelist School, the School of Diplomacy, Military Strategy, and Medicine all stand on equal footing.

Legalism, the school that employs cunning knowledge and uses punishment to curb wrongdoing, traces its origins to the Spring and Autumn period with sages like Guan Zhong and Zi Chan. In the early Warring States, pioneers such as Li Kui, Shang Yang, Shen Buhai, and Shen Dao laid the foundations of Legalist thought, dividing it into the three branches of law, technique, and power.

It seems, however, that a prodigy from the state of Han has recently emerged, destined to unify the essence of Legalism, blending law, technique, and power into one. Alas, though gifted beyond measure, fate was cruel, and he met his end at the hands of the Yin-Yang School.

Daoism is my own lineage. Its intricate teachings flow clearly from the founding master, Laozi, aspiring to harmonize with the natural order of heaven and earth, achieving a wondrous state where the self melds with all things. It emphasizes beginning with non-action, allowing creation to take precedence.

Mohism now appears unusually vibrant. Their motto—“All under heaven is white, only I am black; the people suffer, what can be done? The Mohist school’s supreme techniques—resisting aggression without attack, the eight horizontal and eight vertical strategies, universal love throughout life”—rings loudly across the land.

As for the Yin-Yang School, according to Daoist records, it splintered off from Daoism five centuries ago. It pursues overwhelming power in offense and defense, mastering various forbidden Yin-Yang arts that run counter to the natural principles of heaven and earth. Yet, with the backing of my elder brother, this school is poised to become formidable.

The School of Names consists of master debaters skilled in sophistry. Aside from luminaries like Hui Shi and Gongsun Long a century ago, few outstanding successors have appeared recently, and the school has gradually waned among the myriad schools.

The Miscellaneous Schools are quite remarkable, known for “combining Confucianism and Mohism, uniting the School of Names and Legalism,” aiming to encompass all the teachings of the myriad schools. They proudly claim to “penetrate all the ways of the hundred schools,” but their lineage seems to have quickly faded.

In a few years, my half-brother, with the help of Lord Changping and Wei Liao, will purge the lineage of Marquis Wenxin—what a pity for the classics of the Miscellaneous Schools.

The Agrarian School, boasting the largest number of adherents among the myriad schools, wields formidable strength, divided into six halls. Their fame spreads with the slogans “Earth nourishes all things” and “Shennong never dies.” Moreover, it seems that those of the Agrarian School possess a constitution immune to all poisons.

The Novelist School, which would later shine unrivaled in glory, appears inconspicuous now. Even Zhuangzi, revered in later ages as a Daoist sage, is forgotten as a pioneer of the Novelist School. Few know that Zhuangzi also belongs to this school.

The School of Diplomacy is epitomized by the saying, “A single anger strikes fear into the lords; when peace reigns, the world rests,” vividly demonstrating the power of the Ghost Valley disciples. For centuries, the rise and fall of the Seven States have been closely intertwined with Ghost Valley.

As for the Military School, with its swiftness like the wind, its steadiness like a forest, its fierce raids like fire, its immovability like a mountain, its inscrutability like shadow, and its suddenness like thunder—Sun Tzu’s Art of War perfectly encapsulates the true essence of military strategy. Among the Seven States, military heirs have always been active.

The Medical School, although its masters were persecuted in the Qin state a century ago, has never ceased its heritage. They authored the Inner and Outer Canon of Medicine and invented the four diagnostic methods—inspection, listening, inquiry, and pulse-taking—gaining great renown.

Among the myriad schools, who is strong and who is weak? From the perspective of later ages, it seems Confucianism, Legalism, and Daoism have endured through the ages. Alas, the others were either absorbed by rival schools or vanished into the long river of history.

Standing quietly upon the bamboo shelf by the entrance of the Scripture Pavilion, the inheritance of the founding master Laozi awaits. To choose, one must first select the finest. Given my height, I can only see the middle shelf.

Soon, I bring a bamboo stool from within the pavilion to climb higher, reaching the topmost shelf reserved solely for Laozi’s writings. There lie only thirty-seven bamboo scrolls.

Arranged from right to left, the scrolls bear titles such as Treatise on the Dao, Non-Action, Non-Disorder, Abyss, Central Emptiness, and so forth.

“The Dao that can be spoken is not the eternal Dao; the name that can be named is not the eternal name.”

I reach out and take the rightmost scroll. It is weighty. Slowly unrolling it reveals inscriptions in bronze script—characters from the now-extinct Zhou dynasty. Yet with the rise of the various lords, each state now possesses its own script.

Having spent years at the sect, guided by Master Chisongzi, I have learned much of these characters. Speaking softly, words of faint understanding flow from my lips.

Suddenly, the hand holding the scroll falters. An uncanny sensation wells in my heart. Deep within my black-and-white eyes, streams of splendid mysterious light surge forth, spreading a faint aura all over me.

Silently, no celestial phenomenon appears; even Master Chisongzi nearby, immersed in closed cultivation, notices nothing. After several breaths, I shudder all over, and the colorful mysterious light in my eyes dissipates, returning to clarity.

“Could this... be my unique golden finger?”

“Illusory and seamless, infinitely real; the Dao unites with the primal, its resonance endlessly transforms! Chronicle count: one hundred and nineteen!”

Murmuring these words, just as I was perusing the Treatise on the Dao, a streak of azure mysterious light flashed through my mind. Following it came a recitation of sixteen characters, the lingering echo entwined with an inexplicable count.

One hundred and nineteen?

What could it mean? Since arriving in this world, I have yet to encounter any number related to one hundred and nineteen. As for the count—is it my lifespan? Or something else?

“Yet this scroll might better be called The Gate of All Wonders!”

The stirrings in my mind undoubtedly mark my unique golden finger. Touching the Treatise on the Dao again, my heart traverses all its contents, culminating in the vision of a vast, archaic azure gate inscribed densely with azure characters.

“Profound beyond profundity, the gate of all wonders—who would have thought the golden finger possessed this power!”

At a thought, golden inscriptions burst forth from the azure gate. Chanting silently in my heart, this seems less a method of cultivation and more a general principle, a sovereign law!

“Could it be...!”

Suddenly, a flash of light brightens my mind. My small hand reaches for the second scroll, titled Non-Action. After ten breaths, its contents are fully grasped.

One after another, Non-Disorder, Abyss, Central Emptiness... scrolls pass through my hands, and with each, the light in my eyes grows brighter. Upon completing all thirty-seven scrolls on the upper bamboo shelf, I sink once more into deep contemplation.