006, could it be that I’m going to be buried alive here?

Wang Yu successfully crossed the first bend of the stairs, a hundred steps in all. When he arrived at the platform between the first and second bends, a giant figure, a hundred feet tall, suddenly appeared outside the Heavenly Ladder. Towering and imposing, with a bristling black beard and a fierce countenance, the figure held a long spear in his hand—a truly formidable man. Had Wang Yu seen him, he would most likely have believed he was witnessing Lord Zhang Fei himself.

This figure was none other than Zi Lu. When the crowd at the foot of the mountain saw Zi Lu’s apparition, they immediately prostrated themselves in reverence. Of course, the Mountain Chief, Zi You, did not bow; there was no reason for senior disciples to salute one another.

Zi Lu’s colossal shadow seemed to possess a measure of intelligence. Upon appearing, he nodded toward Zi You, then hurled the phantom spear in his hand directly into the Heavenly Ladder. With a swishing sound, the spear landed upon Wang Yu, sinking straight into his body.

Zi You observed this scene in silence, for it signified that Zi Lu greatly approved of Wang Yu’s courage—the spear was a token, marking Wang Yu as qualified to compete for the headship of Zi Lu’s lineage. Not only Zi You but everyone present witnessed this moment. As disciples of the Confucian school, they well understood its significance and could not help but feel shaken.

What was going on with this young Wang Yu? Had he awakened to some hidden talent? To receive the approval of Master Zi Lu was an extraordinary feat. Naturally, among them were those who harbored jealousy, murmuring with ill will, “Too bad—whether the boy survives this ordeal is still uncertain.”

Tao Yuan’s heart was also full of shock. Though he had high hopes for Wang Yu, he never imagined that Wang Yu would achieve enlightenment while climbing the Heavenly Ladder and gain Master Zi Lu’s recognition. Amidst the awe, there was a touch of regret—if only Wang Yu had awakened a little earlier, things might have been different.

Regardless of the sentiments outside, Wang Yu himself was startled. He had been resting on the platform when suddenly a long spear pierced down from above. Wasn’t this enough to frighten anyone out of their wits?

Moreover, Wang Yu had no chance to dodge—the spear entered his body directly. With a jolt of fear, Wang Yu braced himself for death. Such a massive spear piercing through him—how could he survive?

But after a moment, he realized nothing had happened. He quickly recalled the answer from the original owner’s memories. It turned out that he had been acknowledged by Zi Lu, deemed worthy to compete for the headship of Zi Lu’s branch, and thus received the spear’s mark.

Despite receiving this mark, Wang Yu was not excited. He had already resolved to leave the Confucian school behind. The primary reason was that the current leader did not meet his standards—too much emphasis on ritual and propriety, making Wang Yu feel constrained and unnatural. Besides, he had sensed malice from the Mountain Chief’s faction; whether or not danger awaited, he was sure his days would not be comfortable.

Therefore, Wang Yu paid little mind to the honor. After calming himself, he stepped onto the first stair of the second bend.

The second bend bore the imprint of principles left by Zi Gong—Duanmu Ci, the progenitor of Confucian business, one of the Ten Philosophers, renowned for his eloquence, resourcefulness, and acumen in commerce. He was the most esteemed disciple of the Master.

No sooner had Wang Yu stepped onto the stair than four characters confronted him: “What is the unity of knowledge and action?”

Wang Yu was familiar with Zi Gong, knowing him to be adept in business. He had expected a question related to commerce, but was surprised to find it concerned the unity of knowledge and action.

He began to ponder, recalling the experiences of this master and the records of him within the Confucian school, gradually gaining insight. Zi Gong was the propagator and defender of the Master’s teachings, most devoted to him. He considered the Master’s cultivation as a wall as high as ten thousand fathoms, while his own was a mere few feet of earth—utterly incomparable.

Thus, he studied the Master’s wisdom most deeply, and the more he studied, the more he regarded the Master as a being almost divine, beyond the reach of mortals. But how could one practice the Master’s teachings? This was perhaps his greatest question. He may have had answers, but he sought more.

Therefore, the imprint here was not about business, but about the unity of knowledge and action.

The deepest studies on this principle belonged to Master Yangming.

Wang Yu had researched the “Records of Transmission and Practice,” after all, as a master of debate, a champion among the argumentative, one had to be widely read; otherwise, how could one debate? Without understanding, one might as well surrender.

Thus, Wang Yu had touched upon many classics—not deeply, but he grasped their essential ideas. Of course, the unity of knowledge and action had been addressed not only by Wang Yangming, but also by many other luminaries.

From “Xunzi: The Effectiveness of Confucianism”: “To hear but not see, however broad, must be erroneous; to see but not know, however perceptive, must be deluded; to know but not act, however earnest, must end in frustration.”

From “Book of Rites: The Doctrine of the Mean”: “Some are born knowing, some learn and know, some struggle and know; once they know, it is all the same. Some act with ease, some act for profit, some act with effort; once accomplished, it is all the same.”

From “The Book of Documents”: “The difficulty lies not in knowing, but in doing.”

Zhu Xi said: “Knowledge and action always depend on each other. Without feet, the eyes cannot walk; without eyes, the feet cannot see. In sequence, knowledge comes first; in importance, action matters most.”

Cheng Hao said: “True knowledge is different from common knowledge. I once saw a farmer wounded by a tiger; when someone spoke of tigers harming people, all were shocked, but only the farmer’s expression was different. If a tiger can harm people, even a child knows, but they do not truly know; true knowledge is as the farmer’s.”

Though all these sages offered interpretations of the unity of knowledge and action, each was somewhat biased—some emphasized knowing, others doing.

Only Master Yangming advocated the unity of both. Knowledge is the essence of the heart; the heart naturally knows. Seeing one’s father, one naturally knows filial piety; seeing one’s elder brother, one naturally knows brotherly respect; seeing a child fall into a well, one instinctively feels compassion—this is innate knowledge, needing no external seeking. “One must have the desire to eat before knowing food; the desire to eat is intent, the beginning of action.”

As the saying goes, knowledge is the beginning of action, action the completion of knowledge. In four words: unity of knowledge and action.

Knowledge surged in Wang Yu’s mind, appearing to take ages, though in truth only the time it takes to drink a cup of tea. Once his thoughts were sorted, Wang Yu looked up and loudly recited the four characters confronting him, as if they sought to overwhelm him.

“Unity of knowledge and action!”

At that declaration, the entire second bend began to tremble. The countless principle lines engraved upon it seemed unable to withstand the weight of those words, showing signs of collapse. These principles were the distilled essence of Zi Gong’s cultivation, long fused with Mount Tai itself. Now, as the principles crumbled, the rock they were attached to grew unstable, poised to topple.

This terrified Wang Yu.

Would he be buried alive here?