Hongwen Academy.
Hongwen Academy is an institution dedicated to literary and historical texts in the Tang Dynasty, managed by Hongwen Scholars, with subordinates such as proofreaders and Chiefs of the Imperial Academy.
Scholar Liu Yan led Song Lin to a library.
As the heavy doors creaked open, a damp and moldy scent greeted them.
Inside were dozens of rows of bookshelves, coated in dust. Due to years of neglect, many books had decayed.
"This Zhaowen Pavilion houses miscellaneous unofficial histories and books from the founding of the dynasty to the Kaiyuan era. No one has cared for it before. Now that you’re here, you can take the chance to organize the texts. From now on, this will be your sole task—other odd jobs can be ignored,"
Liu Yan said.
After all, these were not mainstream texts. Following years of war and turmoil, the court could no longer spare the manpower to manage them.
When Li Chun ascended the throne, he resolved to rejuvenate the empire, reform outdated policies, and weaken the power of the vassal towns. Only after signs of a Yuanhe Restoration did this place reopen.
Liu Yan was filled with confidence. With the Holy Master in power, the Hongwen Academy would surely regain its forr glory one day.
Little did Liu Yan know, his Holy Master had already died a few days ago.
For now, the court was rely keeping the death a secret while factions divided the spoils of power.
Song Lin was fully aware of this, but chose not to bring it up.
Unless sothing unforeseen happened, he’d likely be stuck on this cold bench for decades.
This suited him fine; there were still many hidden treasures in this era awaiting his discovery.
In the month that followed, Song Lin did not travel to Wannian County to visit his uncle.
Instead, he imrsed himself in the vast ocean of books.
To sort and restore the books on these dozens of bookshelves would likely take several generations’ worth of effort.
But who was Song Lin? He was a Little Immortal at the Core Formation Stage.
With a sweep of his Divine Thought, he gained a general understanding.
To his disappointnt, there were no rare arcane secrets here. Most of the texts were travelogues or far-fetched unofficial histories.
Even so, these books unfurled before Song Lin a vivid scene of the magicians’ Golden Age of Tang.
From the legendary fortune-tellers Li Chunfeng and Yuan Tiangang, to Zhai Qianyou driving away dragons at Jiujiang, to Luo Gongyuan mingling among the common folk, Xing Hepu’s divinations in Chang’an, and even the Foreign Monks of Tuhuoluo Country in the Western Region...
The records were replete with accounts of diverse mystical techniques, leaving one dazzled.
These were all spells backed by complete magical veins.
Whether it was Li Chunfeng’s or Yuan Tiangang’s Qin Dunjia, Zhai Qianyou and Luo Gongyuan’s Mystical Sect Pot Skill, or the wondrous techniques of places like Lishan, Luofu, and Shu Mountain, there was much of value.
Two hundred years had passed—these immortals were likely still around.
But where they had gone remained a mystery.
Song Lin was engrossed in reading when the news of the Emperor’s death was finally announced.
The nation was thrown into upheaval.
That night, in the rear courtyard of Zhaowen Pavilion,
Song Lin sat in a lakeside pavilion, moon-gazing with a young man.
Before them was laid a table of crude wine, braised beef, pig trotters, and a small plate of wild rice stems.
The young man was a proofreader at Zhaowen Pavilion, equally neglected in his current post like Song Lin.
"The Holy Master has passed away—truly unexpected," Gu Feixiong lanted.
"Indeed," Song Lin thought to himself. "I saw it coming and even witnessed Emperor Xianzong’s death firsthand."
"Nowadays, the world is at peace. Our day of glory will surely co."
"I hope so too," Song Lin replied indifferently.
Peace was an unlikely prospect in his view.
After Emperor Xianzong’s rejuvenation of the dynasty, the following emperors were all dimwitted rulers. The nearly subdued vassal towns would inevitably revive again—it was practically a foregone conclusion.
Perhaps it was precisely because he worked tirelessly for reforms that Li Chun t such a tragic end.
"Let’s hope the next Holy Master proves to be an enlightened sovereign. Otherwise, things will spiral into chaos,"
Gu Feixiong muttered drunkenly, saying sothing dangerously treasonous.
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He grabbed a piece of beef, chewing it fiercely, and downed a large gulp of wine, which made him choke so hard that tears sprang to his eyes.
"Haha, an enlightened sovereign, you say! A wise ruler works diligently indeed! The Emperor is but mortal—aren’t we all lazy at tis? No one can sustain decades of tireless governance,"
Song Lin remarked.
Which emperor doesn’t aim to be enlightened at the start? After all, no one aspires to be rembered as a tyrant from the outset.
To be an enlightened ruler requires a piercing eye to discern loyalty from treachery, exceptional political skills, extraordinary diligence, and relentless discipline year after year.
Very few emperors throughout the Tang Dynasty achieved this, and many who started as enlightened rulers beca muddled in their later years.
Upon reflection, it seems understandable. Once the realm is stable, why not enjoy life a little? It’s easy for posterity to critique history with the benefit of hindsight, but to truly live through those tis? One might perform even worse than those so-called incapable rulers.
Hearing Song Lin’s reasoning, Gu Feixiong was montarily taken aback before changing the subject. "By the way, have you found any books on reincarnation? Let know if you do—I’ll treat you to a al."
"Not yet."
The Emperor was dead, but life went on.
Song Lin had thought of visiting his uncle Song Jie, but with so many arrests happening lately, it seed wiser to postpone.
Once more, Song Lin lost himself in the sea of books, delving into secrets from a hundred years prior.
Second year of Upper Immortal.
Li Heng indulged in constant pleasures as the state weakened. Rebellions broke out in Youzhou and Zhenzhou.
Song Lin finally visited his uncle, who was childless except for a daughter nad Pan’er—twelve years old and utterly adorable.
Third year of Upper Immortal.
Gu Feixiong failed the imperial examinations. Song Lin discovered a hidden layer in an ancient text.
Inside the layer lay the "Bone Weighing Rhy."
"What a treasure!"
Song Lin was overjoyed—he had indeed unearthed a secret left behind by the ancients tucked away in the hidden layer.
The Bone Weighing Rhy was a fortune-telling thod. This rhy assigns weights to the year, month, day, and hour of a person’s birth.
The total weight is then matched to a corresponding verse in the Bone Weighing Rhy, which reveals an outline of one’s fate.
Of course, such predictions are imprecise and hardly groundbreaking.
Moreover, it required no cultivation—one simply needed to rember the weights assigned to birth details and align them with the verses.
Song Lin experinted using the birthdate of the body he now occupied.
Born in the year of Jiazi, his total weight was three liang.
The corresponding verse was:
"This life is wrought with misfortune, laboring to no avail. Dedicated effort builds a life, only to wake and find it’s but a dream."
"Haha... Such bleak fate," Song Lin chuckled, self-mocking. No wonder this soul had been fated to be taken by him.
"A pity it’s of little use."
It wouldn’t serve much purpose in conflicts with others.
Nevertheless, it was good to have learned it.
It might even serve as a reference for selecting disciples in the future.
Though, naturally, it could only be a reference.
If destiny alone dictated everything, Master i Hua of the Taoist School would’ve already had a courtyard full of prodigies under his wing.
Fourth year of Upper Immortal.
Li Heng succumbed to the poison of alchemical pills, passing away at just thirty years old.
Upon hearing the news, Song Lin sighed. This world indeed seed to be governed by an unseen hand.
The Crown Prince who had hidden in the palace that fateful night, watching his father taken away, ultimately could not escape his fate.
Song Lin had investigated the charlatan responsible for the Emperor’s alchemy. The man was just a run-of-the-mill Jianghu fraud.
With Li Zhan ascending the throne, there was no doubt he too would be an incompetent ruler.
Fifth year of Upper Immortal.
Song Lin briefly returned to reality.
The story world’s ti flowed at a ratio of 1:30 compared to reality.
Additionally, within the Little Golden Altar Cave Heaven, the flow was 1:20.
Altogether, this resulted in a staggering 1:600 ti ratio.
Six hundred days in the story world equated to a re day in reality.
So while nearly five years had passed within the story, only three days elapsed in the real world.
"Temple Master, the first batch of Divine dium disciples’ list is ready: twelve from Xuanke Temple, five from Five Ghosts Temple, four from Yunze Temple, and three from Mountain Demon Temple."
Shi Yinhua reported.
"Understood. Three days from now, I will hold the Xuanke Technique Different thod Receiving Talisman Great Fast to bestow the talisman upon you all. Notify the three temple leaders to jointly issue the Divine dium talismans at the ceremony."
Since it was a new magical vein, it deserved so ceremony to announce its significance to the broader world.
Though so might find bestowing talismans to demons unconventional, the Child General Talisman was still tolerable within their limits.
Moreover, this Dharma Assembly carried symbolic weight—it was like buying a jade horse for a thousand gold coins.
It would inspire certain demon factions close to humanity and weaker Taoist temples to cling to hope.
"If the enemy won’t co to challenge , then I’ll take the initiative—it’s an opportunity to test Fire Cloud’s authority."
Song Lin mused.
"Why not stir up even greater commotion? Hype it up!"
At the sa ti, he instructed Shi Yinhua to send invitations to nearby temples, forest leaders, and Fire Cloud itself.
He even penned a letter to Zhi Xin.
Zhi Xin would be the heavyweight guest anchoring the event.
The letter contained cryptic insights on the Bone Weighing divination thod, blending plausible observations with deliberate half-truths.
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