Chapter Five: Who Is Eight Taels, After All?

Li Zisheng, now aware of the reason behind all this, felt his anger surge, nearly bursting forth. His revered mentor had spent his life in seclusion, devoted solely to the pursuit of knowledge, resigning from his official post early in youth for the sake of scholarship, yet had never imagined he would encounter such calamity.

Li Zisheng also understood why so many strange events had occurred to him upon his arrival in Huile. From the likes of Yan Ziqing, Zhang Ziyang, and Kong Zhichong at the very beginning, it must have been because they believed he possessed some token from his mentor, prompting them to deliberately make things difficult for him.

This explained entirely why he, obscure and unknown, had attracted the attention of all the major powers—it was all due to his mentor.

“Zisheng, you must win this examination,” Zhong Bai said, hesitating, his gaze tinged with both regret and helplessness. “Only then will you be truly valued. In this contest, you must find your own place; only then will your safety be assured.”

Li Zisheng said nothing, merely gazing outside the tent.

“Zisheng, rest well. Tomorrow, take some time to stroll around Lingzhou’s city, clear your mind. Don’t dwell on it too much,” Zhong Bai sighed once more before leaving Li Zisheng’s tent.

Outside, dusk was settling, and the sky was already sprinkled with faint starlight. Li Zisheng stepped out, gazing at the shallow stars overhead, his heart filled with emotion.

“Never thought I’d be swept into these turbulent waves. What path should I take from here?” Li Zisheng felt lost—his strength was insignificant; he was merely a minor science student from the future. Though his heart burned with passion and resolve, now entangled in the power struggles of the Great Tang, he was simply outmatched. One misstep, and he would be utterly destroyed.

He only wished to protect his family and avenge his mentor.

Now, it seemed that avenging his mentor and being drawn into this vortex was inevitable. Yet, if he became embroiled in these intrigues, his family’s safety would become his greatest concern.

If he wished to stand firm, he could only follow Zhong Bai’s advice and allow his brilliance to shine even brighter. Concealing his talents was not the way of the Great Tang; he had resolved himself.

Behind him, Balian watched him quietly, saying nothing.

“Master, the night is chilly and the wind strong. You should return to the tent,” Balian said, now clearly in the role of a loyal follower, ever thinking of his master’s well-being.

Li Zisheng returned to the tent, lighting his kerosene lamp as always, flipping through the books he had transcribed—a habit so ingrained it could not be changed.

“Master, you must not win this examination. If you do, you may face mortal danger,” Balian finally spoke after a long silence.

“Why?” Li Zisheng fixed his gaze on Balian. Balian’s origins were not entirely trustworthy, but since he had chosen to trust him, he needed to understand Balian’s background. Yet Li Zisheng knew that pressing too hard would be counterproductive, so for now he let things unfold naturally. Most importantly, those around him had surely been thoroughly investigated by Governor Zhang, Balian included; otherwise, Balian would never have revealed such secrets to anyone on account of a mere word from Li Zisheng.

This was intentional on Li Zisheng’s part, a way to test whether Balian posed any threat to him, using Zhong Bai as a probe.

“Master, if you win this examination, another faction will mark you. You may face mortal danger. Even the War God, Governor Zhang, may not be able to protect you then,” Balian said, his tone deeply earnest.

“You mean the faction that killed the sages of the Tang Confucians?” Li Zisheng continued reading his book.

“Exactly, Master. I am not exaggerating; this faction is terrifying. As you are now, you are no match for them. Being chosen by Governor Zhang, you are likely just a pawn—a piece used to draw out this hidden force, to be discarded once your purpose is served,” Balian replied without reservation or gentle persuasion.

“Is that so? Are you part of this mysterious faction? How much do you know?” Li Zisheng asked, intrigued.

“I share a mortal enmity. Master, do not inquire further about this faction; the more you know, the greater the threat to you,” Balian said, his words filled with boundless anger but even more resignation, the sorrow of knowing yet being unable to avenge.

Upon hearing those words, Li Zisheng realized Balian must have once been a significant figure; otherwise, he would not have been noticed or understood the workings of that faction.

Li Zisheng closed his eyes, straining to recall all the histories of the Great Tang he knew. In the records of the future, there was no mention of such a mysterious faction, not even in the unofficial histories. What kind of force was this?

Seeing Li Zisheng lost in thought, Balian waited silently at his side.

“Balian, do you wish for revenge? No, do you want revenge?” Li Zisheng, after a long silence, opened his eyes and looked at Balian.

“Master, I do, but I lack the strength. I also hope you can avoid these troubled waters,” Balian said, his face full of sorrow.

“Balian, why did you choose to follow me?” Balian had answered this before, but now the question carried a different meaning.

“Master, because we’ve suffered similar fates. Your mentor and his entire lineage were slain. So was mine, and worse—my family as well. I hope you do not tread the same path.”

After speaking, Balian’s expression grew even more pained.

Li Zisheng once again fell into deep thought, coming to the realization that Balian must once have been an extraordinary figure. Why he had become known as a mere ruffian, Li Zisheng did not know. Yet for Balian to so casually mention that his mentor’s whole lineage had been wiped out—something Zhang had told him alone—only someone of consequence would know such a secret.

But for Balian to reveal such things so easily indicated that even now, there remained the shadow of some unknown force behind him, allowing him access to these secrets. Otherwise, his claim of having many ruffians under his command would never suffice to uncover such mysteries.

“Who exactly is Balian?” This became Li Zisheng’s greatest question.

Li Zisheng waved his hand, signaling to Balian, and rubbed his brow.

Seeing this, Balian understood that Li Zisheng did not wish to continue the conversation. In his heart, Balian hoped Li Zisheng would choose wisely, lest he end up utterly destroyed. The methods of that mysterious faction remained, even now, his greatest nightmare.