Logging into the Game World Early and Starting with a Royal Marriage to the Empress

While Xuan Zhenzi conversed with the Elder Celestial Master…

Tidings of the events that transpired at the Literary Gathering gradually disseminated throughout the entirety of the capital.

“The Imperial Son-in-Law Xia Chen attended as well?”

“Did he compose a poem or not? How did he acquit himself? Was it not just a few days prior that some were proclaiming him to be a nascent talent among scholars?”

“This was nothing less than a feast fraught with peril—many scholars were chomping at the bit, eager to test whether this Xia Chen possesses genuine talent and learning!”

…

It was the afternoon hour, and within a teahouse, numerous patrons savored their afternoon tea; at this moment, they eagerly questioned a scholar from the Imperial Academy who had returned from the Literary Gathering.

The crowd encircled him at the center, yet this scholar from the Imperial Academy bore a somewhat displeased expression, stammering and hesitating, offering no reply.

“What’s the matter, Xiao Li? We’re your uncles and elders—watched you grow up since you were a child! Back when you entered the Imperial Academy to study, didn’t we contribute to your tuition fees?

Now that you’ve earned the rank of provincial graduate and attended the princess’s Literary Gathering today, do you look down on us old uncles, deeming it beneath you to speak with us?”

An elderly man, seeing no response after prolonged inquiry, erupted in indignation.

“Uncle Chen, don’t make things difficult for Li Zheng!”

At that moment, another scholar clad in Confucian robes stepped into the teahouse.

This scholar spoke with a smile.

“What has happened?”

The crowd, sensing something amiss, directed their queries to this newcomer.

“Hahaha—Li Zheng, alongside a throng of Imperial Academy scholars, challenged that Imperial Son-in-Law Xia Chen today, brazenly pressing him to compose a poem in public. I’ve no idea what possessed him to think that way.

Regardless of whether the man possesses true talent or learning, he is the Imperial Son-in-Law, the legitimate son of a marquis’s household, and now the Division Head of the Lamplighters—elevated in rank and wielding great authority. How could ordinary folk like us afford to offend him?

Yet there he went, charging forth like a fool to serve as someone else’s blade—I couldn’t hold him back no matter how I tried!”

Zhang Zhongyong shook his head as he recounted the tale; were it not for their shared upbringing in the same alley, he wouldn’t have bothered saying so much—only for Li Zheng to spurn his goodwill.

“I had his best interests at heart, yet he turned around and accused me of thwarting his chance to make a name in the capital, even threatening to sever ties with me. Truly, being a good soul these days is a thankless task!”

Zhang Zhongyong sighed, addressing the attentive neighbors and townsfolk with a tone of helpless resignation.

“Had they truly succeeded in publicly humiliating that Xia Chen, it might have been excusable—yet that Xia Chen is manifestly not one to be trifled with; he rebuked them before all assembled, chastising them for incessantly indulging in the minor path of poetry, showing no concern for the grand affairs of the state, failing to earnestly pursue scholarship, and perpetually seeking to exploit opportunities and take unscrupulous shortcuts.

In the end, he even composed a poem before the entire gathering to proclaim his aspirations, striking the faces of all present with resounding slaps!”

Zhang Zhongyong burst into hearty laughter as he spoke, while Li Zheng’s face flushed with shame.

“That poem was exceptional—after today, I wager no one will dare claim Xia Chen lacks learning or literary talent. Now that’s what I call making a name in the capital—haha, a true man ought to be thus!”

Zhang Zhongyong laughed uproariously, his demeanor exuding boundless vigor, his spirit enthralled by the grandeur of Xia Chen’s poetic intent…

Xia Chen once more ascended to the forefront of the capital’s discourse, emerging as the subject of conversation among the populace during their leisure over tea and wine.

Of all the topics, the poem he had penned garnered the greatest attention—especially its concluding lines: To know only death upon the battlefield in service to the nation, what need is there to return wrapped in horsehide?

These words stirred the hearts and souls of many, igniting their fervent admiration!

“Division Head Xia spoke truly—poetry is but a minor path! Across the dynasties of old, which prime minister ever governed the realm through verse?

Practical deeds invigorate a nation—nowadays, the realm is far from tranquil; the northwestern frontier teeters on the brink of a great war. What we need are capable statesmen, not so-called literary luminaries.

Take Dafeng in the north—why has its national strength waned in recent years?

Is it not because the entire nation, from top to bottom, exalts literary pursuits? There, scholars and literati spend their days drinking, reveling, and frequenting pleasure houses—lost in a stupor of decadence, utterly heedless of state affairs. With such a prevailing ethos across the land, how could they forge an army of iron and blood?

Thus, I can assert with certainty—if Dafeng persists along this path, within fifty years or so, it shall surely be devoured by our Dawu. We of Dawu must not tread in Dafeng’s footsteps; we must guard against the corrosion of thought wrought by the path of poetry.”

A scholar stood at the grand gates of the Imperial Academy, his voice ringing out with fervor; around him gathered numerous fellow students, nodding in agreement as they absorbed his words.

One must study the classics of the sages and the treatises on statecraft—yet never squander excessive energy upon the path of poetry.

Since antiquity, no prime minister has ascended to that station through poetry—all have risen through tangible deeds!

In an instant, Xia Chen’s name resounded thoroughly among the scholars of the Imperial Academy and beyond, with many even adopting his verse—To know only death upon the battlefield in service to the nation, what need is there to return wrapped in horsehide?—as their personal creed, deeming it the mark of a true man: to serve the nation loyally, even unto death upon the field of battle.

Some even entertained thoughts of enlisting in the military…

These repercussions were beyond Xia Chen’s foresight; at this moment, he had returned to his own courtyard, where a youth sat before him.

Judging by his stature, he appeared fifteen or sixteen years old, yet his visage remained exceedingly youthful.

“Why have you come?”

“Third Brother, I’ve come to pledge my service to you!”

Xia Wen perched upon a stool, his face alight with excitement, his eyes darting about—an unmistakable touch of restless energy.

“You’ve come to pledge your service to me?”

Xia Chen spoke with a wry chuckle; at that moment, Bizhu personally carried in tea, serving it to both Xia Chen and Xia Wen!

“Indeed! If Sister Bizhu can serve under you, why can’t I?”

Xia Wen accepted the tea with a grin; Bizhu, hearing this, flushed slightly with bashfulness.

“No—you’re too young! Besides, does Third Uncle know of this?”

Xia Chen shook his head; if memory served, Xia Wen had yet to reach twelve years of age this year.

“But I’ve already broken through to the Eighth-Rank Essence Refining Realm! By the household’s rules, I’m eligible to venture into the world!”

Xia Wen leapt from his stool, declaring with earnest conviction.

“You’ve broken through to the Essence Refining Realm so swiftly?” Xia Chen was mildly astonished, inwardly marveling at the boy’s prodigious talent. Compared to his original self, who hadn’t breached the Eighth-Rank Essence Refining Realm by seventeen, Xia Wen’s aptitude indeed stood out as exceptional—his own talents, by contrast, had been quite ordinary among the marquis’s progeny.

“Indeed! And I owe much of it to you, Third Brother—if you hadn’t refined the foundational saber techniques, I wouldn’t have progressed so swiftly and effortlessly.”

Xia Wen scratched his head with a sheepish grin, recounting the full tale to Xia Chen.

As it turned out, under normal cultivation pace, Xia Wen would have required at least two to five months to achieve his breakthrough.

Yet later, his eldest uncle, Xia Qián, personally instructed him in a saber technique known as the Shouyang Demon-Breaking Blade—a method that could harness the energies of heaven and earth to temper the body. Consequently, he surmounted this threshold in a mere month.

“I initially wanted to join the Imperial Guard, but they insisted I’m too young; then I considered the frontier forces, but Eldest Uncle and Father adamantly refused. So I resolved to seek you out, Third Brother!”

Xia Wen’s demeanor brimmed with fervor. Originally, Xia Qián and Xia Wen’s father, Xia Han, had intended for him to remain within the household, honing his martial prowess—ideally breaking through to the Seventh or even Sixth Rank before venturing forth. By then, Xia Wen would be older, easing their concerns.

Yet Xia Wen was utterly unwilling—having finally attained the Eighth Rank, he yearned to explore the world beyond, even if only within the capital; he had no desire to languish further in the stifling confines of the marquis’s mansion.

Xia Chen gazed upon the tender youth before him and couldn’t help but sigh inwardly—by the heavens, could this truly be the vexation wrought by possessing an excessively prodigious talent?

Had Xia Wen broken through to the Eighth Rank at fourteen or so, his parents would scarcely have fretted so, nor resisted his departure from the household.

At eleven years old venturing out—who wouldn’t be anxious? He was practically still a mere child!