Chapter Forty-Four: The Arrogance of Yelang?

Deng Qing’s face was ashen, yet he could not think of any good solution. With both Mr. Zhong and the Dean of the Academy joining forces against him, even Deng Qing had to take it seriously. The influence these two wielded nearly surpassed that of the Zhou family’s main branch.

Desperate, Deng Qing shifted all his attention to Li Zisheng. As he gazed at Li Zisheng, a sudden glimmer appeared in his eyes, for Li Zisheng himself understood that he was now the only one left to compete in the literary contest.

General Deng would surely place this heavy burden entirely upon him—Li Zisheng saw this clearly and understood it well. In truth, this was one of the reasons he had come to General Deng’s tent in the first place.

If he could not shoulder such responsibility, the matters ahead would surely encounter difficulties.

“Li Zisheng, do you have confidence in defeating those Turkic curs?” General Deng asked, absentmindedly playing with his wine cup, his hands moving ceaselessly, his expression unchanged.

“General, you must think thrice, do not ruin yourself,” cautioned Mr. Zhong, who obviously saw through General Deng’s intentions. Clearly, Deng Qing was desperate, and now sought to use Li Zisheng, who belonged to Governor Zhang. Li Zisheng, chosen by the governor, was entrusted with important responsibilities and could not afford any misstep.

“Mr. Zhong, you exaggerate. I am merely asking about the literary contest, why so many words?” Deng Qing sneered.

“I hope so,” Mr. Zhong snorted coldly. He was still quite displeased, his wariness evident in his gaze. He quietly moved closer to Li Zisheng, signaling him not to speak.

Yet Li Zisheng was not one to be manipulated by others. He leaned forward, stepping out of Mr. Zhong’s protective reach.

He first saluted General Deng, then respectfully greeted the Dean of Lingzhou Academy and Mr. Zhong in the manner of a student.

Mr. Zhong was unsure of Li Zisheng’s intentions and wondered what he was planning. The Dean, seeing Li Zisheng’s courtesy, returned the gesture. Though the Dean harbored a thousand resentments toward Deng Qing, his cultivation compelled him to respond to Li Zisheng with propriety.

General Deng, however, was unmoved; occupying the main seat as the authority here, he rightly accepted Li Zisheng’s salute. To return it would have been a breach of etiquette.

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“General Deng, I do have a plan that might resolve our current predicament,” Li Zisheng said, then smiled quietly, waiting for Deng Qing’s follow-up.

“Oh? What plan?”

The first to ask was not Deng Qing, but the Dean of the Academy.

The Dean cared not so much for Zhou Fulin and the others, but for the fact that the literary contest was taking place in his academy. The disaster with the warhorses had left his academy depleted, unable to participate. If they abstained, it would be considered a concession—a defeat he could not bear.

Upon returning to the Imperial Academy or the Ministry of Personnel in Chang’an, he would surely face severe punishment. More importantly, if Lingzhou’s defeat led its scholars to lose faith in the Academy and turn to other provincial schools, his institution would wither. How could he answer to the generations of deans before him, or to the elders who had built the Academy brick by brick?

Thus, the Dean was even more anxious than the others.

“Yes, what is your plan?” Deng Qing pressed.

“General, the contest is divided into three parts. The first is horsemanship and archery. Due to the misfortune with Lingzhou’s warhorses, we must forfeit the first round. Only the second, the literary contest, and the third, a combined martial and literary duel, remain. Because of the lack of scholars, only I am left to compete in the second round. I therefore request that the General change the rules of the contest.”

The three furrowed their brows, looking at Li Zisheng.

“Oh? What rules do you wish to change?” The Dean asked, again before Deng Qing.

Deng Qing nodded, refraining from further questions.

“Originally, the contest was for ten participants to compete individually. I propose we change to a rotating challenge—whoever wins continues to the next round. This way, as long as I endure, the Turks’ ten men will be defeated, and we can win the literary contest.”

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Li Zisheng spoke with remarkable ease and confidence.

Yet the Dean, Mr. Zhong, and Deng Qing all wore grim expressions. Li Zisheng’s proposal was far too bold. Even if the ten Turks were not formidable, as the saying goes, ‘three ordinary men together make a strategist.’ First, no matter how talented Li Zisheng was, he was but an eight- or nine-year-old child. Second, the ten Turks attending were said to be disciples of the greatest Tang scholars, one of whom had earned the highest praise from the grand masters of Tang. For an eight-year-old to be so audacious was surely excessive.

After Li Zisheng’s suggestion, even Mr. Zhong, who had always supported him, began to doubt—not because he lacked faith in Li Zisheng’s abilities, but because facing ten opponents might overwhelm him before the contest even began.

“Zisheng, do not be arrogant. Among the Turks competing, one has been praised by the grand scholars of our Tang. However deep your learning, you are but one person—how can you defeat ten? Winning is one thing, but if you lose, do you realize how grave the consequences will be?”

It was the Dean who spoke, his tone gentle out of kindness. Though he disliked Li Zisheng’s hubris, he was thinking of the contest and refrained from harsh words.

Mr. Zhong quickly stepped in, signaling Li Zisheng to say no more. Such a proposal only added chaos to an already complicated situation.

“Zisheng, are you truly confident?”

Contrary to Mr. Zhong and the Dean’s attitude, Deng Qing asked a question that stunned the two of them.