The Empress's No.1 Lackey-Chapter 435 - 358, "I’m here to admit defeat

"Is the Grandmaster resting?" Zhao Douan walked into the seating area and asked softly.

Dong Da nodded and explained with a worried expression:

"Before the opening, my grandfather does not converse with others, to avoid dissipating his energy. Zhengyang has been hiding in the inn and not shown his face for several days now; he must be gathering his energy in silence. My grandfather had to accept the challenge hastily; just yesterday, he was still lecturing at the Imperial College and with his old age, his energy is limited, so he cannot afford to be distracted."

Uh... Zhengyang is not exactly what you think he is... Zhao Douan muttered inwardly.

He took a seat with Mo Chou and greeted old acquaintances like Han Zhou before looking around, indeed not seeing Vice Ministers like Yuan Li, Li Yanfu, and other high-rank court officials.

However, several at the Vice Minister level had arrived.

Not long after sitting down, the Supervisor of the White Horse Hall, the old leader Sun Lianying, also arrived.

"Supervisor? You're coming to join in the excitement too?" Zhao Douan asked in surprise, giving up the empty seat beside him.

The old official, with white at his temples and deep-set eyes, took the seat and acknowledged "colleague" Mo Zhaorong with a nod, then glanced at him:

"If they allow you to come, why wouldn't they allow our household?"

"Who would dare..." Zhao Douan instinctively wanted to respond with playful banter, but considering the occasion, he restrained himself.

After taking his seat, Sun Lianying hinted with his eyes at some formidable figures in the crowd around Mei Garden:

"There are quite a few important people from the literary community here today. See that one across there? The one with the white beard is Qiu Mountain Master from the Western Suburb Academy. Ha, his students who made the lists in the imperial exams are no less impressive than those from the Imperial College.

"The Chief of the Imperial College beside him you should have met. Do you see the person talking with him? He is a great Confucian scholar, who has secluded himself and rarely emerges. He came to the Capital from the countryside specifically for today...

"And that one, the younger man looking at you—don't underestimate him. He was the top scorer two years ago, still in the stage of accumulating talent and expectation, but also a great talent on par with Han Zhou.

"Han Zhou is famous for his poetry, but this top scorer specializes in essays. If it weren't for the fact that the imperial exams coincided with the late Emperor's passing, he would definitely have been in the Xiuwen Pavilion too..."

The old eunuch knew that Zhao Douan was not very familiar with the celebrities from the Great Yu Dynasty's literary circles, so he took this opportunity to introduce them one by one in a low voice.

Listening, Zhao Douan was greatly surprised.

He realized that today's gathering in the literary world was of the highest caliber, such an assembly of scholars happening maybe once in twenty years.

This showed how significant and influential the debate between Zhengyang and Dong Xuan was.

"Master Bian Ji has arrived!"

Suddenly, a chant came from outside Mei Garden, causing a momentary stillness among the scholars inside. They all turned to look as Zhao Douan furrowed his brow:

"Why are people from Divine Dragon Temple here? Lord Ice... ahem, Mo Zhaorong, did you arrange this?"

Mo Chou's expression visibly darkened, and she quickly said in a low voice:

"Of course it wasn't me."

The court, trying to diminish the event's impact, naturally would not have invited this famous monk, representing the abbot Master Xuan Yin.

So he has come uninvited...

"Master Bian Ji has always been involved with the Confucian literati, often participating in literary gatherings. Coming here is not unexpected, but..." Scholar Han Zhou also furrowed his brows.

The arrival of someone from Divine Dragon Temple at this time, though not blatantly inappropriate, undoubtedly added weight to the debate.

"The Mage has come?"

"Master Bian Ji has also arrived!?"

Many scholars stood up to welcome him.

Zhao Douan didn't move, casting a cold glance at the Mage in white robes, with a strand of green beads on his wrist, handsome with childlike clear eyes, arriving like a star among the moon.

Up front, the Chief of the Imperial College, responsible for presiding over the debate, stood up in surprise:

"Why has the Mage come?"

Mage Bian Ji smiled and said:

"Buddha be praised, I've always had many interactions with the scholars of Confucianism, and for an event of such magnitude as today's, how could I miss it? Does Sacrificial Official Mei not welcome me?"

The old Chief, whose family name was the same as Mei Garden, was momentarily taken aback, but then smiled:

"If the Mage graces us, of course, we're welcoming. Someone bring a chair here."

Mage Bian Ji thanked them with a smile and, upon seeing Zhao Douan's table, brightened up and walked over, pressing his palms together:

"Amitabha, it's been a long time since we've seen each other."

Indeed, it had been a long time since they last met, since after the last "Buddhist Tao confrontation," the Empress had sent Mo Chou with troops to Divine Dragon Temple and gave them a harsh lesson.

That group of high monks truly kept a low profile for a while.

Zhao Douan said with a beaming smile:

"It's been a long time since the Mage made an appearance. I almost forgot about you. You've chosen a good time to come out. Oh, by the way, how is young Mage Tianhai's injury? My apologies for the heavy hand at the last contest. I wanted to visit your temple to express my regards, but I was delayed due to official travel."

This remark was somewhat barbed.

Adorned in plain white, the monk Bian Ji, famed throughout Great Yu for the phrase "Spring arrives, and the grass turns green," smiled unchanged. Seemingly having forgotten the unpleasantness of the past, he said with a laugh,

"Tianhai's injuries are not serious. On the contrary, having survived a battle to the death, he has benefited from the misfortune. Should he advance further in the future, he will have to thank Lord Duan."

"Ha-ha, I'll remember that, don't go back on your word."

Zhao Douan laughed,

"By the way, which side does Master Bian Ji favor in today's scholarly debate?"

"...The Grandmaster is learned and wise, naturally, I am in favor of the Grandmaster," Bian Ji replied without giving anything away.

Zhao Douan chuckled, "That's the best."

After the superficially cordial yet slightly sarcastic pleasantries, Bian Ji went to sit opposite.

Mo Chou and the others looked solemn, highly suspicious that, because of the last duel of wisdom where the court embarrassed the Divine Dragon Temple, Bian Ji had come this time specifically to revel in the court's misfortunes.

Zhao Douan said nothing, his eyes half-open, half-closed. Time passed, and he saw the seats in Mei Garden gradually filling as the appointed hour approached.

Only the seats reserved for the Zhengyang School remained empty.

Suddenly, he opened his eyes—hearing outside Mei Garden the roar of the crowd, like the sound of thundering waves. It was the clamor of scholars who had come to watch the event.

"Mr. Zhengyang has arrived!"

In an instant, sounds of greeting arose.

Everyone fell silent, ceasing their conversations and sitting upright, their gazes turned towards the entrance of Mei Garden.

They saw the throng from the "Zhengyang School" approaching en masse, led, of course, by Zhengyang himself in his Confucian robe beneath his voluminous cape, with a square cap on his head.

Following him were his closer students, including Lu Cheng and Scholar Song.

Many in the audience stood up to show their respect for the great scholar, but some also keenly noticed that Mr. Zhengyang looked tired with dark circles under his eyes.

His spirit seemed lacking, yet his eyes burned as if lit by a flame that refused to be extinguished.

"Grandfather, they've arrived."

Grandmaster Dong's grandson whispered, looking up at the Grandmaster seated on the high-backed chair dressed in the deep red robe of the Grand Scholar. Grandmaster Dong Xuan, dignified and imposing, opened his eyes, his gaze razor-sharp as he looked at his opponent from afar.

The two men naturally knew each other, though their last encounter had been more than a decade ago.

Grandmaster Dong Xuan braced himself on the armrests, the veins pronounced on his wrinkled hands. The old Grandmaster stood, his mountainous aura engendered spontaneously.

Zhao Douan was slightly surprised, now witnessing for the first time the aura of the southern beacon of the Great Yu Dynasty's literary world, the Polaris of the north.

The crowd grew restlessly, but all did their best to contain it.

The disciples of the Zhengyang School stopped in their pre-arranged positions in several rows, most acquaintances visibly invigorated, even ecstatic.

In recent days, they had been spreading their theories far and wide, eagerly anticipating the scholarly debate that would bring glory to their school.

For these scholars, being part of today's battle was a highlight they could boast about for a lifetime.

Only Lu Cheng and Scholar Song appeared especially solemn, especially upon seeing Zhao Douan candidly watching the proceedings from the audience. Their fear became almost palpable.

Zhao Douan also smiled at them, even waving his hand.

Thereupon...

Their panic intensified, their eyes revealing a hint of horror.

Because they realized that most of the people present were in the dark, unaware that the much-anticipated debate had actually concluded yesterday.

And today was the second round...

So, what exactly was Yama Zhao plotting by secretly luring their mentor into this ordeal and keeping everyone in the dark? This thought made them even more nervous.

They couldn't help but look towards their mentor's silhouette, wondering how he would respond.

Mr. Zhengyang continued forward, stepping away from the crowd. Alone and under everyone's gaze, he ascended the pavilion in the center.

Grandmaster Dong Xuan, almost simultaneously, also stepped forward.

In the pavilion, a meditation mat and a writing table were set up for their scholarly duel.

As the scholars within Mei Garden beheld the vision of the red official robe facing the Confucian cape, they held their breath in anticipation of the splendid debate that was destined to be recorded in the annals of history.

A gust of autumn wind suddenly blew through the pavilion, lifting the hair of both great scholars.

Grandmaster Dong Xuan, as if facing a formidable opponent, stared intently at Zhengyang and made a gesture inviting him to take a seat, saying,

"Although you have traveled from afar and despite our separation by thousands of miles, you in Yunfu and I in the Capital, I have long heard of Zhengyang School's ambition to 'continue the great teachings of the ancient sages.' I never imagined that today, I would have the opportunity to debate with you."

Mr. Zhengyang, with a serene expression, stood in the pavilion without a word.

His gaze was peculiar, devoid of excitement, seriousness, combativeness, or nervousness.

His state was off since he left Bailu Academy last night, very off.

And now, Mr. Zhengyang, who had sat up all night in the inn waiting for dawn, looked beyond the resolute Grandmaster Dong Xuan.

He turned his attention to a familiar smiling face in the audience behind the Grandmaster.

After a moment of silence, Mr. Zhengyang retracted his gaze.

He clasped his hands together and the first words he spoke silenced the entire Mei Garden:

"I have come to admit defeat."

After a brief pause, he spoke his second sentence of the day:

"But I did not lose to you; I lost to him."

Mr. Zhengyang lifted his hand, pointing towards the smiling Zhao Douan amidst the crowd.

The autumn breeze flickered.

In the vast Mei Garden, there was a hush.

...

The next chapter at midnight