An hour later.
Gui Guzi and the others reached the mountaintop and saw the Master of Literature sitting on the throne, eyes closed, as if in a dream.
"Finally, you're here!"
"Indeed, your arrival here indicates that the literary path has successors. The spirits of the ancestors in heaven would be immensely gratified!"
The Master of Literature opened his eyes and spoke jovially.
On his face was a gentle smile, showing no trace of anger, as if the arrivals were guests and he the gracious host.
To Gui Guzi and the others, this expression was nothing but hypocrisy.
They had fought their way here, and no matter how amiable someone was, they wouldn't be smiling.
Yet, despite everything, the Master of Literature's demeanor earned silent nods of approval from many onlookers; this was the way a scholar ought to be!
"No need, we do not follow the Ancestor of Literature's legacy, nor do we need his gratification!"
