And again, Liang Yu.
Phew. That was close. In the sense that I'll still have a scapegoat and a breakwater, but it's annoying that he only managed four little stones when there were definitely more in the canon. But at least it's something—let's assume he just didn't concentrate enough or rushed it. The main thing is that four soul crystals is also clear genius, so everything should go more or less predictably from here on out.
Actually, my maneuver seemed like it was on the verge of a foul and, considering everything mentioned before, looked like political (and maybe not just political) suicide, but... the secret is in the traditions. If a common aristocrat approached a near-plebeian and started talking to him like an equal, that aristocrat would be in trouble. But when the "genius of a generation" does the same (and judging by the instructors' reactions and the general commotion, I can definitely claim that title), things are very different. It's not quite the "right of the strong" to act as they please and ignore everyone else's wishes yet, but it's an "allowable whim," perfectly permissible for a genius. Besides, as it turned out, I condescended to talk to the bearer of "genius" potential as well, even if it's weaker than mine. And I helped him reveal it, which can be attributed—and is actually already being attributed—to the fact that I "managed to see" that very potential. Basically, profit. Well, and if nothing had worked out... I would have had to personally throw Ye Xinghe out of the building as a "suzerain who could not tolerate such disgraceful actions from a slave"—also a perfectly normal and even worthy behavior in the eyes of the public. So there was no risk.
Also, I'm blowing my own mind that I managed to realize, calculate, and react to all of this in the couple of seconds between the instructor moving toward Ye Xinghe and me getting up from my seat. Yes, I'm badass! And I want a drink... Tea for me, tea!
No, jokes aside, they knew a thing or two about good tea here. In any case, the memory that came to me from god knows where was in agreement with the local memory on this point—the tea was magnificent and far better for calming nerves than the local alcohol. That stuff was mediocre. I didn't actually remember if I had much experience drinking spirits, but the wines Liang Yu had tried didn't make me want to repeat the experience, which says a lot, considering he didn't exactly drink watered-down swill from a cheap tavern. Memories of the taste of local tea varieties, on the other hand, very much excited a desire to sit down and savor a cup or two.
Unfortunately, I couldn't get to the supplies of my desired beverage immediately, and I had to spend some more time playing the role of a pathetic statue of myself, standing proudly with my hands behind my back waiting for the test to conclude. Not standing wasn't an option—too many people were glancing at me and everyone was watching my every gesture too closely for me to allow myself to relax. More accurately, not even relax, as I didn't feel tense at all and was actually glad for the chance to be quiet and think, but talking calmly to someone without worrying about the privacy of that conversation was impossible in such an environment.
One way or another, after some time, all those who failed were led out of the hall. I felt the burning gaze of literally every one of them on me, starting from the moment I finished with Xinghe and only ending when they were outside the building. In their depression, these kids seemed to have completely forgotten how things work here and became convinced I could just hand them some talent, like I could just walk up and give it to them. Idiots... Honestly, I won't be able to shake the fear that a new avenger might appear among them, destined to cruelly murder the academy's official genius. Damn Ye Xinghe, because of all this worrying about him and his fate, I've remembered too much supporting information regarding the tropes of Chinese plot-building. By the way, here's a million-dollar question: who the hell was I that, clearly not being Chinese, I know so much about their cultural fetishes and complexes? Is it even normal for a sane European (and my thinking hints at that) to dig into a cesspool like Chinese manhua, novels, and other nationally colorful works?
"Very well, the test is over," the Prorector stood up again, drawing my gaze (and others). "As I mentioned before, the masters may now choose their disciples. We have reached an agreement that I shall choose my three disciples first. I choose..." the old man scanned the hall, causing the candidates to involuntarily hold their breath in a surge of wild hope, "Liang Yu," he predictably found me with his eyes, "An Xueyun," the second predictable choice followed, "and Ye Xinghe," he concluded the list of those who showed the greatest potential among all present.
Stroking his mustache with satisfaction, hiding a triumphant smile in it and demonstratively ignoring the envious and disapproving looks of his colleagues, Prorector Xue sat down again. The hall plunged into a quiet rustle of voices discussing the logic of his choice. Or perhaps not so quiet, as the little blond terrorist was already pouring ecstatic syrup into Ye Xinghe's ears, celebrating the luck of getting to study under such a distinguished man who had reached the Seventh Heavenly Layer. Talk about working fast—he was already conducting pre-recruitment prep on a promising candidate.
"Congratulations," Lady An approached me with a timid smile on her face, "we will be studying together now. Please take care of me, Brother Yu."
"Of course, Sister Xueyun. I hope you will take care of me as well," I smiled softly at the girl, bowing my head slightly in a gesture of friendliness. No, my attitude toward her hadn't changed a bit; I hadn't suddenly burst into otherworldly love, though her appearance was pleasant to me. But I needed to build bridges, otherwise things would be awkward, and she was a good girl—insulting someone like that for no reason would be beneath me.
As for the matter of calling each other brother and sister, those were the traditions here—students of the same teacher or even institution are considered a sort of substitute for relatives during their studies. It wasn't mandatory, and it required the consent of the other party, plus in practice, you could address not only classmates this way but also use it in other cases, particularly with close friends. However, in educational institutions, it was the most common and appropriate. For example, if I had called An Xueyun "little sister" in the courtyard before our admission, it could have been seen as a claim of romantic interest, but here and now, suspecting such a subtext would be improper.
In response to my smile, the girl blushed cutely and quickly took on the appearance of a disciplined top student waiting for the teacher's further instructions. I followed her lead, returning to my proud statue look. Neither of us went to talk to Xinghe, which was logical... and the guy didn't have time for us anyway, as the blond was still talking his ear off.
Meanwhile, the distribution continued. People with two crystals to their name were put into groups of five to ten, and relatively young-looking instructors were assigned to them. The people with three were taken by more solid, older comrades. Once that was done, the Prorector launched into an inspiringly terrifying speech. Basically, "be wise, be spiritual, but if you don't work yourself to death in training, you'll grow up to be meat, even if you're a triple genius." To put it a bit hyperbolically.
Then the high leadership gave the command to disperse. Basically, your first day in this institution was a difficult one, so go rest and settle into your government-issued houses. At this point, the first "equality" began. All representatives of the branch families (including my retinue, half of whom I'd bet will write to the dear Clan Head tonight about my success) were packed into communal houses like barracks-dormitories with a light Oriental flavor and a pretense of comfort and "renovation." After all, this was an elite institution, so even the "common" students were far from peasants. The Major Nobles, numbering two, were waiting for separate houses. Along with one specific disciple of the Prorector who didn't belong to the high nobility. However, Instructor Chu Xian, that same turquoise-haired hidden terrorist, dealt with him last, showing An Xueyun's and my houses first—another silent following of the table of ranks. Service in order of nobility of origin.
The living space, by the way, turned out to be quite decent—a good two-story house with its own garden, located far enough away from the communal barracks and training grounds that would create uncomfortable noise. The servants had already finished moving my things—the "admissions list" took about an hour to distribute, so the help had plenty of time. All that was left was to go in, open a bag of tea, boil some water, and indulge in the process of enjoyment while simultaneously figuring out what to do next and refining those thoughts. Improvisation is certainly good, but it's better to have some kind of tactic and stick to it.
Clearly, I need to study, study, and study some more, but even this simple and noble intention has many shades, from "how" to "what." The "fast" and "everything" option sounded good, but implementing it in practice is a difficult and frankly fairytale-like matter even for the realities of a Chinese story about cultivators. Meaning, mages whose magic is built on kung fu-style martial arts, and yet it's not actually magic, but spirituality, enlightenment, and other words signifying the Chinese heartfelt dream that their national philosophical nonsense means something and isn't just an irrelevant drug addiction useless even to the Chinese themselves in the big world. And which (magic-spirituality, I mean) can be cultivated through meditation and the consumption of various mind-expanding substances, usually pre-packaged by someone into standard labeled pills.
Jokes aside, that's roughly how it works here... just like in any Chinese work that touches even slightly on self-perfection in areas close to the mystical. Which is why it's called cultivation in my... apparently native language of Earth, since there is simply no full analogy for the Chinese term describing the development of oneself, one's body, one's soul, meditation, training, studying martial arts, going beyond the limits of human capability, all simultaneously and interconnectedly.
However, as stupid and absurd as it might sound and look from the outside, the fact is that for me, this is now an objective reality that works and, despite the obvious skepticism generated by its outward attributes, works according to strict and logical principles. Even if much of it seems wild to me, the local magical system remains a system. I'm not talking about how the locals, obsessed with deep meanings and philosophical elements in everything, understand and describe it in their books; I'm talking about the actual principles of the universe, where everything from a piece of wood to the light of the stars has internal Qi, and yet its properties differ, as do the consequences of various interactions involving Qi. I might not know in detail how or why something happens, but I know it happens due to certain and unchangeable laws that form the entire local magic and the methods of mastering it.
And that, by the way, brings us back to the question of study...
Lost in thought, I reached the kitchen, quite successfully brewed the tea leaves from Liang Yu's supplies, and even managed to pour the hot drink into a tea bowl. Normal mugs and glasses weren't exactly non-existent in this world, but finding them on the table of a high-ranking family was absolutely impossible.
The first sip resonated with a wonderful bouquet of flavor and a pleasant wave of warmth down my esophagus, while simultaneously making it clear that my body had missed fluid intake during the admission process. Nevertheless, it barely affected my thoughts, and my reflections flowed as usual.
Under standard conditions, moving from the Second Heavenly Layer to the Third takes a year or a year and a half; from the Third to the Fourth, two to three; from the Fourth to the Fifth, four to five years. This means one can become a Master of the Fifth Heavenly Layer by twenty-three to twenty-five. But those are statistics generally describing guys with talent for three soul crystals, and even then, they're very approximate. There are situations where a person cannot rise above a certain level no matter how much they sweat in training. For the vast majority of practitioners who form the core of the local armies—the rank and file—the Fifth Heavenly Layer is the ceiling of their lives, and plenty never rise above the third. On the flip side, there are the genius kids. A good example is the daughter of the provincial governor, who is also the head of the Northern Guard family. The girl is my age but is already at the Fifth Heavenly Layer. On one hand, she is a practitioner of the Martial Art of the Dragon, and it's easier for them to overcome the first levels; the problems start after the fifth, when the spiritual-energy realm (or rather, they can't progress without it) takes center stage for Dragons, with all the difficulties of mastering it, especially if you focused on physical development before and didn't need to dive deep into the triple meanings of poetic phrases. On the other hand, the beautiful Xia Yu Ning is the offspring of an extremely powerful aristocratic dynasty that has more secrets and resources than three Dark Moons combined. And all sorts of dubious-looking berries, extracts from animal bodies, minerals, and other... substances containing special types of Qi can really speed up a practitioner's development, and I have no doubt that everything possible for her lineage was at her disposal.
All of this is to say that predicting my growth is quite difficult, especially if the test showed real potential rather than me somehow accidentally breaking the system due to a different mentality or other factors related to my real nature, personality, or the circumstances of landing in this world and body, memories of which I am currently deprived.
It could very well turn out that my real potential matches the original Liang Yu, and in that case... I'm meat. I mean, sure, give me twenty years of peace and quiet and I'd reach the Seventh Heavenly Layer with his talent without any problems, but in the perspective of upcoming events, with his potential, I am exactly meat that will be ground up and forgotten.
The worst-case scenario for me, if you look at it that way...
Clearly, things could go to shit in much worse ways, but falling into total despair is no good, so I have to proceed from a situation where something can still be done, rather than just lying down and dying.
So far, among the "something to do" options, only a rather vague idea comes to mind, the general sense being: apply a fresh perspective. After all, the locals lean far too heavily into the mystical-philosophical aspect of studying Qi-work methods, and that gives some hope that if you add a bit of rationalism and applied physics to them, better results could be achieved. How many thousands of years did the secret of gunpowder exist in China? And nothing—the imagination of its owners didn't go beyond inventing firecrackers and fireworks. But once it hit Europe, cannons and muskets followed immediately, and a couple of centuries later, belt-fed machine guns with intermediate cartridges and solid-fuel rockets. Besides, it's clear where to start: my memory contains general Qi development methods, methods for training "fire users" specifically, up to an advanced-high level, and even a couple of clan secrets, which could also be useful. And I already see the first opportunity. Liang Yu paid absolutely no attention to the development methods of masters of other paths, thinking, why bother when the mighty ancestors have already invented and prepared everything? Meanwhile, take those Star Martial Arts techniques which, as you might guess, draw their power from the stars. But stars are balls of incandescent, blazing plasma, embodying the concepts of "heat" and "flame" orders of magnitude more powerful than the most epic terrestrial depths and dragon breaths mixed with phoenix wings combined. Yes, they are far away, even the Sun, but they certainly pour their Qi onto the planet, and for guys like Ye Xinghe, that Qi is enough not only to develop alongside other practitioners in terms of punching ability but also to have a bunch of unique abilities, like healing. Naturally, if it were all that simple and obvious, the locals would have arrived at that concept themselves, even if they didn't suspect the physical parameters of their planetary system's star, but there must be a way to adapt it! I remember perfectly well that Ye Xinghe was able to copy and modify a fire attack for himself, calling it something like the Star Fire Sword or Star Spear... It doesn't really matter; the point is that if a Star-to-Fire transformation is possible for "output," why shouldn't there be one for "input" of Qi? In the sense that if stellar energy can be transformed into the creation of fire and used for fire techniques, and a Star Martial Arts practitioner—who is not connected to fire or fire techniques and hasn't spent even a day studying the principles of that art—can do it, then why can't a fire practitioner use that energy for the same thing, if it fits so well? And, accordingly, learn to absorb and accumulate it. After all, it fits his martial art. That is a proven fact. So why not, in the end? And that's just something that came to mind in passing; there are plenty of ideas. In short, the first thing to do is to build up a cushion of my own erudition and then slo-o-owly and carefully poke things with my hands to see what's what and what it can do.
Another attempt to pour more tea from the pot showed that I had already finished the entire brew without even noticing. I had to boil the water again and repeat the process. Ideally, it wouldn't have hurt to prepare some food as well, but I had no desire to eat or spend time cooking, especially since I didn't have much of an opportunity for it anyway. Students were expected to take their meals elsewhere, prepared by the academy chefs, and my kitchen... well, frankly, it didn't even have a supply of groceries.
A sip of fresh tea was accompanied by reflection on the next problem facing me—the social one. There were all sorts of rival cultivators from clans unfriendly to the Dark Moon... which basically meant all the surrounding lands and families with roughly the same level of power and resources. They would hardly reach me inside the Academy, but I better not show my face outside the school grounds—who the hell knows how that would go. They could easily arrange a case of acute steel poisoning for the same reasons people eliminate the lead engine while it's still just a teapot. The second option was a "honey trap." The locals know their way around those, even if it's not widely advertised. However, the memories of a minor heir—even a secondary one—held plenty of historical examples and lessons on how to counter such approaches. Still, I could be relatively calm on this front. Not even the minor heirs of middle clans are trained for such a profession. You couldn't blow a scandal out of proportion over the seduction of some representative from a minor clan; the girl herself would just end up looking like a complete fool. As for forcing the heir of a Major Family to marry a representative of a minor one... nobody would even ask for his opinion. If the Clan Head says "No," the overly persistent social climber might be sent home in a box. In pieces. But it's not just about scandals and marriages. A good actress who worms her way into your confidence only to become a "night cuckoo," subtly guiding a man's thoughts in the direction her real master desires—that is a powerful factor. And dangerous for the victim's well-being. Even though I flatter myself with the hope that I won't let myself be manipulated by a pair of gorgeous tits... it's better to keep my distance from all girls of unknown origin. As a precaution. In other words, I should act like everyone else here: relieve stress with my own servants and keep the romance for girls within my circle—the ones I'm one hundred percent sure are who they say they are.
In short, at the moment, the Academy is my reliable rear, and the main thing is that the Dark Moon doesn't drag me out for some "urgent necessity." The more time I spend within these walls, the easier my life will be later.
And that leads us to the next problem... Am I sure I'm not a xianxia protagonist? There are an awful lot of heavy hitters circling my humble self... So, during some trip or exam, the local terrorists—which include that blond kid and the local sensei—are going to want to give everyone a real "laugh" with some sabotage and a pile of corpses. And I'm definitely on their hit list, probably near the top. I could, of course, try to play the "revolutionary at heart" whom they might want to recruit rather than kill, but the chances of that are slim. Besides, even if I somehow miraculously moved from the "okay, he's funny, let's kill him last" category to "he's our brother for life," it wouldn't change the fact that these types are unhinged fanatics who cut everyone down left and right, including their own. Trying to negotiate with such types is idiocy. Moreover, you eventually end up in a much worse position than you were without knowing them: you can't trust your new "friends," and if the authorities catch you talking to them, they'll immediately slap you with the title of "rogue"—or whatever they call local defectors here—and that'll be the end of a quiet life. And that's not even mentioning that I don't like bastards who butcher women and teenagers, justifying it with some noble goals and a struggle against tyranny and despotism. No, I might understand it if those teenagers were actual oppressors and "golden children" arrogant with impunity, the kind who would burn a village or stab a passerby for fun. But the thing is, there are maybe twenty people like that in the entire academy across all the years; the rest are from branch families who could suffer from such behavior themselves and don't approve of it at all. Sure, the guys in my retinue would happily join in and let loose if I started some drunken debauchery involving the humiliation of peasants, because of pack mentality, drunken stupor, and the fact that opposing your suzerain is a path to the chopping block—but they would never allow themselves such things on their own. So the cause of the lawlessness in that example is one, and it has a specific first and last name. These idiots, however, were slaughtering everyone, including those they had every chance of—if not recruiting into their ranks—at least keeping neutral by showing they were fighting "for everything good against everything bad." Therefore, whatever motives they might have, we are definitely not on the same path. That means I need to somehow prepare for a couple of saboteurs, each of whom, at the moment, could probably take me down with a sneeze. I just need to figure out how.
Finishing my tea in two gulps, I stood up from the small table where I had been deigning to contemplate the eternal. I could think for a long time, but I also needed to inspect the house properly. And it was better to do it before sunset, since they hadn't delivered electric lighting here yet.
Well, what can be said about the house? Two floors, several rooms on each. Upstairs—a bedroom and a lounge area, as well as a "working library" with literature provided by the Academy. Downstairs—a living room, a small kitchen, a wardrobe, and access to the terrace and garden. There was also a "reflection pavilion" in the garden—basically an outdoor latrine, but with running water. Simple, but tasteful. At least in the opinion of an aristocrat from a Major Family of a wealthy lineage. For Ye Xinghe, this kind of housing would likely be a palace and luxury. And a sewage system, even a "Middle Kingdom" one, is prestigious. The water supply, however, was worse. For personal use, there was only a washstand where the same servants—or perhaps the resident himself, to keep him from getting too arrogant—would carry water. But that was fine; there were perfectly kosher baths on the school grounds where one could wash up after classes. Overall, even for someone who remembers a completely different level of comfort, the local "service" seemed quite acceptable.
Having familiarized myself with the layout and the benefits of civilization, I returned to the library and took up the task of studying the offered selection. Vague memories suggested that in a similar collection, Ye Xinghe had found a couple of books on herbs, information from which subsequently saved his life more than once. Considering that at least one of those instances occurred during an attempt by local rebel-conspirators to slaughter the academy students, that information might be useful to me as well. Same risk zone, so to speak.
However, the more Eastern-bound volumes I took off the shelves and read through the titles and first pages, the more I realized that, firstly, my plan to familiarize myself with other branches of local magic needed adjustment, because there were absolutely no practice manuals in that library. Secondly... I had no idea what all this scrap paper was doing here.
Astronomy, divination, poetry, calligraphy textbooks, philosophical treatises, collections of poems... Is this actually a martial arts academy or some kind of theological seminary? No, I understood—Eastern flavor and all that—but hey, there aren't that many shelves here. Give me something useful; I'm not asking for the impossible.
Flipping through the books, I realized a few things: Chinese poetry, surprisingly, isn't that bad. Specific, certainly, but readable, and there's even something to it. Only, it's not so much poetry as a whole science of speaking ornately, figuratively, and significantly, even if the topic is a description of the most banal phenomenon, like rain outside the window. But their Chinese philosophy... that was beyond good and evil. After five minutes of familiarizing myself with the deep thoughts of ancient sages, I had an irresistible urge to play inquisitor and burn the Heresy. Preferably along with the authors. Unfortunately, those authors had died on their own a long time ago.
A ray of light in this dark kingdom were the manual-slash-textbooks on local potion-making—that is, alchemy. Apparently, these were the very same books on herbs that were so useful to Ye Xinghe in the canon. Here, there was already something resembling normal guides and handbooks. Yes, the descriptions were like: "The root of the Azure Sky Flower possesses great life-giving power. But only by drying it in the sun, then grinding it into dust and mixing it with a valerian infusion, can it be unlocked and turned into medicine. In other cases, it will be nothing but a useless poison. The medicine itself has the following properties..." and then follows a list of effects and indications for use. In short, what a normal person would fit into two paragraphs took four pages here. At best. Far too much fluff, but skipping it wasn't recommended either. Whether it was tradition or the local alchemists acted like bastards and sadists out of principle, the nuggets of valuable information were sometimes so hidden in this "fluff" that some points only dawned on me after a second or third reading. Fortunately, I could read very quickly, and with these characters, that was almost a feat.
Setting aside a few handbooks that caught my eye, with the intention of tackling them with a fresh head, I mentally returned to the issue of building plans for the future. Or a survival strategy, which would be more accurate in my situation.
The main danger for me in the near future was the fanatic rebels preparing a terrorist attack at the academy. From what I remembered, it should happen during some kind of field trip where students from several classes are gathered together and, under the supervision of several junior instructors, sent to a forest training ground to hone their skills in battles with minor demonic animals. They were distinguished from ordinary beasts by the presence of Qi and a division by power level in accordance with the generally accepted gradation of heavenly layers. Essentially, they were natural mutants that had changed under the influence of mystical energies in time immemorial and formed stable populations of new species, and they were everywhere in this world. So much so that most of the continent remained uninhabitable for humans, because even the weakest demonic beast can easily maul an ordinary person who hasn't trained to fight since childhood. Actually, this was one of the main reasons for the local cult of strength and the fact that your level in martial arts meant much more for your social standing than any other achievements. But we aren't talking about beasts right now, but about creatures much worse—humans.
The main problem is that despite knowing the identities of the enemies, I can't hinder them in any way. I have no proof of who they are to present to the administration. A baseless accusation against one of the instructors by a student will achieve nothing, even if I were ten times a seven-crystal, aristocratic high-blood. The Academy here is an independent and strong player; it won't bend to the whims of a brat, especially in a situation where its reputation might suffer—and the infiltration of a national enemy into the teaching staff is a huge blow to reputation. I might be able to raise a ruckus if I throw a total tantrum, after which they might even try to check the guys out, but what could any check find? Revolutionary literature under a pillow? A diary with plans to assassinate the emperor? Not even funny. If the guys had the skill and wit to infiltrate, they won't have anything compromising on them, because their main weapons are themselves, and they don't need anything else to carry out the plan. It seemed the blond kid also had some kind of mark on his arm that Xinghe noticed during healing, but whether anyone else could notice it—or if it requires the special power of a xianxia protagonist or, to be more grounded, the special Qi properties of a specific Star Martial Arts practitioner—is anyone's guess. Again, I have no idea when the blond kid got that mark. He could have gotten it right before the operation—no one forbids students from leaving the academy in their free time, and the operation was definitely coordinated with comrades "from the center," meaning there was an opportunity to get the mark. In short, my probability of success here is spectral, while the probability of drawing a target on my own forehead for primary elimination by terrorists grateful for such an unexpected gift will, conversely, skyrocket. In other words, without rock-solid facts, I am strictly forbidden from opening my mouth.
Options to utilize Dark Moon resources so that I have loyal forces capable of handling everything at the right time and place, or writing an anonymous letter to the Lord of the Northern Guard with the same aim—since his daughter is also studying at the Heavenly Star Academy and will also be in the risk zone... actually, these options are more viable than the first, but they are still very shaky.
Lord Xia Lie is a grim and very murky fellow. You can't just send him an anonymous letter, and if you do, it won't stay anonymous for long. Then you'll have to answer a lot of delicate questions, and answer them in such a way that the most powerful man in the province doesn't decide you're redundant in this life. Personally, I don't feel I have those talents, nor the readiness to go through that experience, so let's set that option aside for a last resort.
Jokes aside, he will take note of a message about a planned assassination attempt on his daughter and react as a father should, but I have no way to send that message without being tracked down and gently asked how I know such things and if I'm a "camel" or not. Proving I'm not a camel in the dungeons of the Lord of the Northern Guard is a dubious pleasure. To prevent that, I would need at least a couple of extremely agile people personally devoted to me who could deliver the message without pointing to me. I don't have such people, and at this point, there's nothing left to discuss.
With the Dark Moon... it's both easier and harder. I can't count on the Clan Head or his father and sons; there are too many factors their behavior might depend on. They might consider getting involved useful, or they might play their own game, trying to crush competitors, or do something else my imagination isn't enough for, but which the warped minds of those moral degenerates would gladly do. And they really are power-hungry moral degenerates. And that's without even considering how I would prove the truth of the information to them or handle the question: "How do I know everything?" On the other hand, there's my grandfather—Liang Yin. He is completely on my side and would support any endeavor... well, as long as it isn't stupid or idiotic. But I'd have to explain a lot to him too, not to mention that even though he is a Clan Elder, he isn't exactly free in his movements, and his absence for a meeting with me wouldn't go unnoticed. Though this option is clearly more promising than the others and gives good chances for victory and survival. Of course, it still needs to be refined, but in a pinch, I can always reveal the truth to my grandfather about gaining knowledge from another world. Mentioning that I'm not entirely sure who I am myself and tend to believe I'm not his grandson at all isn't necessary.
What else could I do, purely theoretically?
Well, as a crazy thought, order my vassals to approach the blond terrorist regarding a "friendship-gum-help" with training, so as to gain indirect data about his abnormality through them. I mean, the kid is very strong, currently at no less than the Fourth Heavenly Layer, and with contact training, that would be hard not to notice—unless he's a guru of pretense and body control. But the latter is in the realm of science fiction; no matter how much you pretend, you'll still hit a bit harder in the heat of training or block with greater ease. This, of course, wouldn't say anything incriminating or prove his real level, but it could go into the collection of facts and witness testimonies for a possible investigation in the way I need... if I had any other facts for such an investigation.
As for obtaining those facts... nothing comes to mind.
Actually, there's an option to organize those facts myself by planting compromising evidence in the personal belongings of the suspects so that they are later discovered by outsiders and the terrorists are caught, but that option only looks good on paper. I have no idea how to implement it. I don't have the necessary technical skills, let's put it that way. Again, I'd have to get compromising evidence from somewhere first, and where would I get it and what could it even look like? Prohibited propaganda literature is a bit complicated in this world. The locals can write philosophical treatises on the deep meaning of a falling cherry blossom petal onto a pond's surface in circles for generations, but you won't find normal philosophical concepts of building a new society and state with a strong ideological foundation if you search with a lantern in daylight.
In short, that option is a dead end.
The result is that either I'm already worn out from the day and am missing something obvious, or my room for maneuver is indeed quite small. I could, of course, just pull a fast one and simply run away on the eve of that forest trip, but I don't even want to consider that. I might not be a beacon of righteousness, but just up and abandoning a bunch of innocent people to the slaughter is not for me.
Still unable to come up with anything concrete on the topic of "overturning the world in three moves," I went to the things I brought from home and unpacked my collection of books. "Heavenly Fire Desolation Technique," "Divine Path of Dragon Flame Technique," "Stone-Crushing Fire Secret Technique"... those names resonated in my soul with a kind of bashful awkwardness, but Liang Yu's memory saw nothing wrong with them. On the contrary, in his opinion, they were quite powerful and practically elite styles of fire martial arts. Either way, I didn't take them out for the names.
I didn't feel like sleeping at all, nor did I feel like eating. Training with Qi... that would be pleasant, but I could wait until tomorrow's lesson, which starts first thing in the morning at the separate training ground assigned to our group. But trying to understand the local magic material by looking at it with a fresh eye and attempting to systematize different techniques from a rational point of view—that was something that would help before a session with an experienced instructor. Plus, I'd be able to ask him some questions if they arose. And so, I'll light the oil lamp and sit at the table on the veranda—I'll read until midnight, and then I'll go to bed...