The beginning of the salary hall

On Dragon Head Plain, the aftershocks of the earth-shattering explosion had not yet dissipated. The sky-covering smoke and dust, like the last breath of a dying beast, slowly settled in the biting wind, covering the ruins of the Soul-Suppressing Monument and its buried foundation with a thick layer of gray-white and charred black soil. The air was thick with the pungent smells of sulfur, burnt remains, and a heavy earthy stench, overpowering the already pervasive stench of decaying corpses and creating a new, suffocating mark of death.

News of the temporary granary being seized by the Legalist Black-Clad Guards spread like a plague through Anji Camp, which had just begun to show signs of life. Panic, like cold vines, instantly entwined the hearts of everyone. The faint flame of "water diversion for land reclamation," which Ji Zhai had just lit, flickered violently under the shadow of starvation, almost going out. The laborers stopped using their tools, gathered together, and stared blankly into the direction of the billowing smoke, and into the high slope where Xiao Yuxuan stood. That silent figure was bearing an immense burden at that moment.

“Governor…” Chen Zhong’s voice was hoarse, trembling with despair, “Over at the granary… the Black-Clad Guards showed the tax inspector’s token and the seizure warrant, saying… saying that we resisted taxes first, and then destroyed the official monument, so our crime is doubled! Not a single grain of grain is allowed to be touched! Anyone who disobeys… will be killed without mercy!” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, “The camp… the little bit of bran and coarse grain left in the camp, at most… at most, will last for two more days.”

Two days. In the freezing winter of Longxi, where even a drop of water turns to ice, the lack of food means that death will swiftly reap these lives that have just seen a glimmer of hope, like a plague.

Xiao Yuxuan stood atop the high slope, his back to the crowd, facing the land utterly transformed by the explosion. Dust settled on his mud-stained shoulders and on his empty left sleeve—the severed hem of his robe now weighed heavily on his heart like a lead weight. The deafening roar of the explosion seemed to still echo deep within his eardrums, intertwining with Yan Yang's chilling "immediate execution" and the devastating news of the confiscation, forming a massive vortex that threatened to engulf him.

His gaze pierced through the lingering smoke and dust, fixed intently on the scorched earth at the epicenter of the explosion. There, a chilling, eerie light, like the eye of a venomous snake, flickered in and out of the gray-black dust.

Blood-Dripping Wolf Skull Talisman!

It wasn't completely destroyed; instead, the force of the explosion ripped it out from even deeper within! Its ferocious outline, baring its fangs, and the twisted dark red symbol on its forehead, exuded a chilling, ominous aura in the pale light of the sky. The appearance of this bone symbol was like a cold mockery, ridiculing his efforts to erase the past and forge a new path.

"Governor, grain..." Chen Zhong's voice, trembling with sobs, rang out again, pulling him back to reality from the cold gaze.

Xiao Yuxuan slowly turned around. His face was covered in soot and snow, but his eyes, deep as a frozen pool, burned with two flames that refused to be extinguished. He didn't look at Chen Zhong's despairing face, nor at the laborers below who were once again enveloped in fear. His gaze passed over the crowd and landed in the direction of the military camp—the dilapidated fortress that teetered on the brink of collapse in the wind and snow.

“There will be food.” His voice was hoarse, yet unusually steady, carrying an undeniable strength that clearly reached everyone’s ears. “But living is not just about waiting for a bite to eat.”

He pointed to the east side of the military camp, to a relatively sheltered depression backed by a low mound. That was where Xuanweizi had built a makeshift altar using blood-stained fragments of the Soul-Suppressing Stele and a charred Mo family ruler. The few remaining incense sticks had long since died out, and the altar stood lonely and defiant in the wind and snow.

"Anji Camp!" Xiao Yuxuan's voice suddenly rose, like a drawn sword slicing through the pervasive panic. "Target—the banks of the Wei River! Logging! Quarrying stones! Before sunset today, I want to see the first pillar erected on that low-lying area! What we are building is not a shack to shelter from the wind and rain, but a place where the torch of the 'Way of Survival' can be passed down! A school!"

School?

These two words, like a pebble thrown into stagnant water, stirred a faint ripple among the despairing crowd. A trace of bewilderment and disbelief flashed in their numb eyes. In this desperate situation, where every day was uncertain and death from hunger and cold was a constant possibility, build a school? What would they learn? What use would it be?

However, Xiao Yuxuan offered no explanation. He fell silent, took large strides, and led the way down the slope, heading straight for the sparse, snow-covered woodland along the Wei River. The wind and snow whipped against his empty left sleeve, yet his back remained as straight as a pine tree.

Ji Zhai's cloudy yet sharp eyes lit up. Without hesitation, he immediately followed. Xuan Weizi had also arrived at the edge of the crowd. He lightly flicked his whisk, dispersing some of the dust, and addressed the bewildered laborers, his voice calm yet carrying the power to pierce through the wind and snow: "Though our bodies are hungry and cold, our hearts find peace. Where the torch of knowledge is passed on, that is our home." The old Taoist's words were like a clear spring, quietly seeping into their parched hearts.

Chen Zhong paused for a moment, then gritted his teeth and roared at the guards behind him, "What are you all standing there for! Follow the commander! Cut down trees! Move stones!" He grabbed a broken axe and rushed toward the Wei River.

The spark of hope is often rekindled in the most unlikely places by the most resolute actions. Though this spark was as faint as a candle in the wind, though the road ahead was still shrouded in the shadow of starvation and the fangs of Legalism, Xiao Yuxuan, through his silent actions, tore a tiny opening in this despairing winter—not begging for handouts, but building! Laying the first cornerstone for the future, for that faint hope of "peace"!

The sounds of axes and chisels striking the frozen surface of the Wei River echoed, deep and powerful. The chants of laborers selecting stones also resounded across the scorched earth, still weary, but now imbued with a determined resolve. Ji Zhai moved through the crowd, his commands precise and efficient, like a tireless, sophisticated machine. He directed the laborers in selecting appropriately sized stones loosened by the explosion, instructing them on the most efficient methods for moving heavy timber. Meanwhile, Xuan Weizi, with a few wounded veterans possessing some knowledge of herbal medicine, leveled the ground and marked locations with rudimentary tools at the edge of a sheltered depression. His movements were unhurried, possessing a rhythmic harmony with nature.

Xiao Yuxuan personally hoisted a log, as thick as a bowl and streaked with ice. The cold wood pressed against his shoulder, its heavy weight making his steps falter. He silently walked towards the center of the chosen depression. Each step he took on the frozen ground left a clear footprint.

In the center of the depression, Xuanweizi had already drawn a neat square foundation on the ground with charcoal. Ji Zhai was directing several strong men, who were using thick wooden stakes and ropes to try to erect a relatively flat stone slab that had been selected, as the first load-bearing column base. The stone was too heavy, and the frozen soil was too hard. The men's faces were red from straining, and the ropes dug deep into their shoulders, but the stone pillar only swayed slightly and could not be stabilized.

Xiao Yuxuan walked closer and put down the log on his shoulder. He didn't say anything, but stepped forward and squeezed into the middle of the burly men. With his only remaining, calloused right hand, he steadily supported a sharp corner at the bottom of the stone slab.

"One, two, go!" Chen Zhong shouted hoarsely.

The combined strength of everyone erupted instantly! Xiao Yuxuan's arm muscles bulged like iron, veins popped out on his forehead, and his teeth were clenched! With his and everyone else's combined efforts, the heavy stone finally broke free from the frozen ground and slowly, inch by inch, rose up!

"Hold on! Land!" Ji Zhai's voice was as calm as ice.

"boom!"

The heavy stone column base, carrying immense force, slammed steadily into the shallow pit that Xuanweizi had marked and dug beforehand! A clear tremor resounded through the ground! Dust and snowflakes flew everywhere!

The first column base is erected!

The deep, resounding crash seemed to strike the hearts of all the laborers in Anji Camp. They stopped what they were doing and looked toward the center of the depression. They gazed at the solitary stone pillar standing atop the scorched earth, a symbol of some new beginning, and at the slightly panting, yet still upright, figure of Governor Xiao Yuxuan, his face blurred by dust and sweat.

An indescribable emotion permeated the crowd. It was no longer pure despair, nor blind obedience, but a mixture of shock and bewilderment, yet also a faint, ignited light. So, they really could… could build something? Something not for suppression, not for showing off, but… for “passing down the way of survival”?

"Continue!" Xiao Yuxuan wiped the sweat and dust from his face. His voice was still hoarse, but it carried an undeniable penetrating power.

The sounds of logging, chiseling, and shouts rang out once more. This time, the sounds seemed to carry a heavier, more powerful weight. The laborers were no longer merely toiling numbly; their gazes would occasionally drift to the center of the depression, watching as logs of varying thickness were erected and stones of different sizes were piled up. A rudimentary, almost primitive framework was growing tenaciously in that sheltered depression at a visible pace.

Ji Zhai was the soul of this nascent building. He was like a tireless machine, shuttling through the rudimentary construction site. He instructed on how to reinforce the beam-column connections with mortise and tenon joints, how to design simple drainage ditches using the terrain's slope, and how to cleverly fill the irregularly shaped rubble shattered by the explosion into the walls, saving materials and increasing stability. His hands were rough yet strong, his movements precise and efficient, each instruction transforming the mundane into the extraordinary, maximizing the effectiveness of limited resources and manpower. When a main beam needed to be erected at a height, he would even personally climb the swaying scaffolding, using a chalk line and a ruler to ensure absolute accuracy. The wind and snow tousled his gray hair and patched coarse linen clothes, but he remained oblivious, his eyes fixed only on dimensions, angles, and structure, as if this simple school was the most solid embodiment of his Mohist ideals of "universal love" and "non-aggression."

Xuanweizi was the lifeblood of this building. He was no longer confined to leveling the land. He led a few disabled veterans with some literacy and a few teenagers with curious eyes (among them was the boy Xiao Yuxuan had rescued, the one wearing the governor's cloak), busy on the perimeter of the construction site. They used twigs to carve patterns on the frozen soil and used salvaged charcoal sticks to record details on the peeling bark. They recorded the origin of every piece of wood, the size and location of every stone, even the frostbitten hands of a craftsman and the work chants uttered by a laborer in a Longxi accent as he carried loads. The old Taoist said, "All things have a spirit, and all can be recorded in history. Every piece of wood and every stone in this hall is soaked in blood and tears, bearing the will of the people to survive. To record them is to record the very roots of this 'Anji'." He guided the children to observe the most subtle changes on the construction site—how a snowflake blown by the wind melts on the rough wood grain, how a ray of weak sunlight struggles to penetrate the clouds, briefly warming a cold stone. In the simplest way, he is infusing this unfinished school with memories and spirituality about time, life, and this scarred land.

Xiao Yuxuan was no longer the high-ranking governor. He was the most silent laborer, the most steadfast pillar. Wherever heavy physical labor was needed, he was there. He carried the heaviest beams and moved the most cumbersome foundation stones. Sweat soaked through his thin clothes, quickly freezing in the cold air, covering his shoulders and back. His right hand's web of thumb cracked open during a moment of overexertion, blood seeping out and staining the rough wood red, but he simply grabbed a handful of cold snow and pressed it against the wound, continuing to work. He rarely spoke, but his actions told everyone that he was with them, on this scorched earth, shedding the same sweat and bleeding for that ethereal yet incredibly heavy word, "peace." His gaze would occasionally sweep across the construction site, landing on the faces of the laborers who were gradually becoming more lively, on Ji Zhai's focused back, and on Xuan Wei Zi's profile as he guided the child in taking notes. Only then would a faint, extremely subtle hint of comfort flicker in his deep, pool-like eyes. More often, however, his gaze would involuntarily drift towards the scorched earth after the explosion, towards the approximate location of the blood-dripping wolf skull talisman half-buried in the ash. His eyes would instantly turn cold and sharp, like a hawk eyeing its prey.

The sun struggled to sink behind leaden clouds, sparingly painting its pale afterglow across the Dragon Head Plain. The wind and snow seemed to have subsided somewhat.

The rudimentary school framework finally stood stubbornly on the low-lying land! The four sides were low, rough walls built from a mixture of rubble and irregular timber. Above were newly erected, crooked yet remarkably sturdy beam-and-column structure, covered with the thickest thatch and tarpaulin they could find. There were no doors or windows, only a huge, dark entrance, like the earth's gaping maw, waiting to be filled with knowledge and hope.

Though it was as simple as a giant shack, it did indeed stand! Amidst ruins, in despair, and under the shadow of starvation!

Everyone involved in the construction stopped what they were doing and silently gathered around. They looked at the building they had "rescued" from the frozen ground and ruins with their own hands, at their own hands covered in mud, red from the cold, and even cracked and bleeding, their eyes filled with complex emotions. Exhaustion and pain were still etched on their faces, but a strange, indescribable emotion surged within them. It was a glimmer of light from participating in creation, a thrill of planting a seed with one's own hands on the ruins of destruction.

Xiao Yuxuan stood before the dark entrance to the school. He was covered in mud and grime, sweat etched deep lines on his face, and his right hand was wrapped in a tattered, blood-soaked, and frozen cloth. He turned to face the weary but determined-looking crowd.

He didn't speak, but slowly took out two things from his pocket.

In his left hand, he held the charred half of the Mo family ruler. The deeply engraved character "安" (peace) on the ruler stood out clearly in the twilight.

His right hand held the blue stone fragment that had broken off from the Soul-Suppressing Monument, its edges stained with his own blood.

He walked to the entrance of the school and, to the astonishment of the crowd, slowly bent down. With his injured right hand, enduring the excruciating pain, he forcefully dug a small pit in the frozen ground at the entrance. Then, with utmost solemnity, he first placed the blood-stained blue stone fragment at the bottom of the pit, and then gently and neatly placed the half of the charred ruler engraved with the character "安" on top of the stone fragment.

Cold stones and charred wood, bearing the memories of blood and fire, and the contradictions of suppression and stability, were buried together in this wounded land.

With his hands numb from the cold, Xiao Yuxuan scooped up handfuls of icy soil and covered the soil with it. His movements were slow and heavy, as if he were performing a sacred ritual.

Xuanweizi stepped forward and gently sprinkled a handful of damp soil, mixed with fine ice crystals, that he had taken from the banks of the Wei River onto the mound of earth that Xiao Yuxuan had buried. The old Taoist closed his eyes and chanted softly, his voice drifting away on the wind.

Ji Zhai watched silently, his rough fingers unconsciously stroking the ink line hanging from his waist. Chen Zhong and the laborers around him held their breath.

When the last handful of soil was applied, a small mound appeared at the school gate.

Xiao Yuxuan stood up, his mud-covered hands trembling slightly in the cold air. He faced the crowd, his voice hoarse from exhaustion and the cold, yet it struck each person's heart clearly, like a stone thrown into a deep pool:

"This pillar has been erected, not to shelter from the wind and rain, but to support this collapsed sky!"

"What is buried here is neither a monument nor a ruler, but to suppress the souls of those who died of starvation and to secure the foundation for the survival of the people!"

"This place is called—Anji Academy!"

“Anji Academy…” someone repeated these four words in a low voice, their voice trembling.

As dusk settled, the wind and snow seemed to intensify. The simple school building frame groaned softly in the cold wind, its dark entrance like a silent, gaping maw. Yet, the small mound of earth newly piled up at the entrance, like a heart embedded in scorched earth, beat weakly but tenaciously.

Just then, a small, thin figure staggered towards them from the scorched earth left by the explosion. It was the boy Xiao Yuxuan had rescued, the one wearing the governor's cloak! His face was deathly pale, he was out of breath, and he was clutching something tightly in his hand.

“Governor…Governor! Mr. Ji…Mr. Ji!” The boy ran up and knelt down with a thud, his hands trembling as he raised what he was holding high.

In the last glimmer of twilight, everyone could see what the boy was holding!

A bone fragment! About two fingers wide and one finger long, roughly polished into the shape of a blood-dripping wolf's head, with fangs bared and empty eye sockets! On its forehead, the twisted dark red symbol, like congealed blood scabs, emitted a sinister, chilling light in the twilight!

It was the blood-dripping wolf skull talisman that reappeared after the explosion!

The boy's voice was filled with immense fear, almost crying out, "I...I went over there to collect some scraps of wood to start a fire...under...under a scorching hot rock...I saw...I saw this! It's so...so eerie! Touching it...my fingers went numb!"

All eyes instantly shifted from the small mound of earth symbolizing hope at the school gate to the bone talisman in the boy's hand, which exuded an ominous aura!

Hope and evil, new life and curse, collided suddenly in the most shocking way at the twilight when Anji Academy was newly established and its flame was about to be lit!

Xiao Yuxuan's gaze instantly sharpened, becoming even more chilling than the winds of Longshou Plain. He stared intently at the bone talisman, as if trying to see through its grotesque appearance to the deeper darkness hidden behind it. The pile of fresh earth at the school gate, where the ruler with the character "An" and the blood-stained stele were buried, appeared so fragile in the twilight, as if it could be frozen and shattered at any moment by the chill emanating from this malevolent bone talisman.

The wind and snow howled, swirling up the ashes on the ground, battering the simple school's frame, and also battering the blood-dripping wolf's head in the boy's hand. Anji's first flame, before it could even warm hearts, already felt the biting chill from the abyss.