Rituals and laws are strict and unyielding, leaving no room for personal sentiment.

The nine emblems—spear, coral vessel, ancient seal, coin, mulberry leaf, ox plow, straw sandal, decayed wood, and reed flower—glimmered on Wang Yu’s arm with an almost blinding light.

Zhu Bingli found himself dazzled by that radiance.

Wang Yu pointed to the markings on his arm, fixing Zhu Bingli with a stern gaze. “Do you see? Now I possess the qualifications to compete for the seat of the Nine Branches’ Dean. My status may not match that of a Grandmaster, but surely it isn’t inferior to yours, the Great Scholar. Do you dare claim to be my mentor? Are you seeking parity with the Headmaster? Do you wish to commit the crime of betraying your teacher and ancestors?”

Wang Yu was merciless, casting accusations upon Zhu Bingli without hesitation.

And he wasn’t finished.

Before Zhu Bingli could respond, Wang Yu produced a shimmering scale of the Five-Colored Auspicious Kylin, brandishing it before him. With a cold voice, Wang Yu demanded, “Do you know what this is?”

“This is the sacred relic bestowed upon me by the Patriarch—the scale of the Five-Colored Auspicious Kylin. Do you understand what it signifies? Do you know what the Patriarch said when he granted me this divine artifact?”

Zhu Bingli, now visibly unsettled, forced out a hoarse reply. “What did he say?”

“The Patriarch told me that this scale is not only for my protection—it also bestows upon me another identity: the Walker of the World for the Confucian School. Surely you haven’t forgotten what the Walker of the World means?”

Not only was Zhu Bingli bewildered, but even Ziyou, the Headmaster, was deeply unsettled.

They had never heard of such a title.

In truth, there was no such thing as the Walker of the World. Wang Yu had invented it entirely. Yet he felt no fear of exposure.

After all, no one before him had ever succeeded in ascending the Heavenly Staircase; no one knew what lay at the summit of Mount Tai. Who could challenge his claim?

Moreover, Wang Yu held in his hand the sacred scale of the Five-Colored Auspicious Kylin. Whatever he said, no one would dare openly question him.

To doubt him was to doubt the Patriarch himself.

Within the Confucian School, a sect strict in ritual and law, who would dare such a thing?

Betraying one’s master and ancestors was a crime of the utmost severity—punishable by the destruction of one’s cultivation, condemnation to the Abyss, and eternal exile from sunlight.

Thus, though Zhu Bingli was confused and Ziyou’s heart was full of suspicion, neither dared voice their doubts.

Fortunately, Wang Yu offered an explanation. “The Patriarch told me that our Confucian School is a sect devoted to practical governance; we must not spend our entire lives cloistered atop Mount Tai, growing old in endless study. We are to descend into the world, enlighten the masses, bring order and stability to the realm, and secure peace for generations. This is the true calling of a Confucian disciple. To carry out such work in the world, there must be a leader and administrator. The Patriarch, recognizing my exceptional aptitude, deep moral understanding, pure disposition, and extraordinary adaptability, appointed me to this role—naming it the Walker of the World. Now do you understand?”

Though Wang Yu’s words were pure fabrication, the reasoning was sound.

He had observed that this world’s Confucian School was devolving into a collection of bookish scholars, endlessly studying theory with little interest in practical application. This was a deviation from the true path.

The Confucian School should not be so.

Though Wang Yu did not fully embrace its doctrines and subtleties, he acknowledged their usefulness—indeed, considerable utility. To remain forever secluded on the mountain was a waste.

Most importantly, Wang Yu wished to fulfill the original owner’s karma and final wish.

The original owner was, after all, a Confucian disciple, whose dream was to see the School flourish. Though the Confucian School was the foremost sect in this world, its influence among the secular realms was in decline. Many nations governed themselves not by Confucian principles, but by those of the Daoist, Mohist, Legalist, Yin-Yang, Agricultural, and other sects.

This waning influence boded ill for the School—it would inevitably lose its preeminent status.

So, to resolve this karma, Wang Yu uttered these words, both to strike Zhu Bingli and to sow a seed of good will with the Confucian School.

Zhu Bingli, hearing Wang Yu’s speech, felt his confidence collapse.

If Wang Yu’s claims were true, then Wang Yu’s status would surpass both Great Scholars and Grandmasters.

Simply put, atop Mount Tai, one heeded Ziyou; below it, one obeyed Wang Yu.

Seeing Zhu Bingli’s growing timidity, Wang Yu would not let him go.

Of course not.

It is best to press the advantage, not to seek empty glory.

If I do not utterly defeat you, then my reputation as a master of debate is undeserved.

Wang Yu looked at Zhu Bingli and Headmaster Ziyou, raising his voice, “I am both the heir to the Nine Branches’ Dean and the Walker of the World for the Confucian School, recognized by sages and the Patriarch alike, with the Five-Colored Auspicious Kylin as proof. My status is genuine—is it not higher than Zhu Bingli’s?”

Zhu Bingli’s expression darkened, yet he dared not speak.

Ziyou, whose cultivation and temperament were both exceptional, nodded. “Your words are true. What do you intend?”

Wang Yu smiled. “Nothing, except to return Zhu Bingli’s own words to him: insulting one’s mentor, arrogant and disrespectful, he should be punished with a hundred strikes of the discipline ruler, expelled from the School, and never again permitted entry. What do you think, Headmaster?”

As he spoke, Wang Yu idly played with the Five-Colored Kylin scale, clearly reminding Ziyou not to forget his current status.

For the first time, Ziyou’s usually serene expression changed.

Though Zhu Bingli was somewhat foolish, his grasp of doctrine was solid, and he was a model of ritual observance—one of Ziyou’s most promising students.

If Wang Yu’s proposal were followed, Zhu Bingli would be ruined.

No sect welcomes those who betray their teachers and ancestors; if Zhu Bingli were expelled with such a reputation, no other sect would accept him.

He would fall to the status of an ordinary mortal.

A learned mortal, without extraordinary fortune, could never hope to tread the path of cultivation.

Unless he could validate his own doctrine—imprinting it upon the heavenly path already marked by countless sects’ patriarchs—ascending in one leap to the supreme seat of a patriarch.

Easier said than done.

To validate one’s own doctrine, not only must it form a coherent system, but it must withstand the impact of all other sects’ doctrines imprinted upon the Heavenly Dao. Only by standing firm amid these assaults can one gain the Dao’s recognition and achieve sagehood.

Ziyou did not believe Zhu Bingli possessed such talent or insight, nor the immense willpower and perseverance required.

Thus, if Wang Yu’s words were followed, Zhu Bingli would be utterly ruined.

For a moment, Ziyou hesitated.

By the rules of the Confucian School, Wang Yu was not wrong.

Yet, in his heart, Ziyou had no desire to punish Zhu Bingli.

Such is one of the School’s flaws: strict ritual and law, with no room for human feeling.