Chen Wenqian's eyes narrowed slightly: "Explain."
Cui Hao's tone was solemn, his speech calm yet powerful, as if prepared long ago, wanting to make up for his previous defeat:
"Horse refers to form—all horses share this form. White refers to color. A white horse is both form and color. A white horse has 'white' that a horse lacks. How can they be equal?"
"When seeking a horse, black or yellow would naturally do. But I want a white horse. If you give me a black or yellow horse, would that also do?"
"Substance and name are both indispensable. Therefore, how can a white horse be a horse?"
When Cui Hao finished speaking, the scene fell silent.
Chen Wenqian looked deeply at Cui Hao. As a great scholar, besides reading many books, a sharp mind was also crucial.
The matter of the white horse seemed to be about horses, seemingly unrelated to this debate, merely sophistry attempting to gain some advantage.
But Chen Wenqian understood it was not like that.
This question was actually an inquiry into the foundation of Confucianism.
In fact, it discussed Cui Hao's concept of "name and substance," which is the "rites and principles" of Confucianism.
This was not pure sophistry, but a hidden dagger with murderous intent.
Chen Wenqian didn't rush to answer, astonished by this dagger Cui Hao had prepared. With such a dagger, it was no wonder he had suddenly advanced the debate time.
His gaze subtly glanced to his side, only to find the other great scholars also pondering deeply.
At this moment, outside the venue, faint sounds came from the many students listening to the debate.
But it wasn't the students speaking.
They all remained silent, each carrying paper and brushes. When wanting to communicate with others, they would write what they wanted to say on paper and pass it around to read.
So the faint sounds from the window now were all from writing and passing papers.
Among the many students outside, some understood the implication, while others thought it was merely sophistry.
But this sudden silence in the debate made it clear that this discussion about the white horse probably wasn't just about horses.
This was the fourth debate. Regardless of win or loss, there had never been a case where one side was completely silenced from the first two questions, even starting to write to communicate.
Even Li Junzi, who had been losing, had never seen the students nor had they ever seen Chen Wenqian and the other great scholars frowning and thinking deeply.
Chu Xingchen's gaze turned to the window, seeing that regardless of passing papers or picking up brushes to write, the students outside tried to move as lightly as possible to minimize sound.
Junzi Mountain... now it seemed not entirely about fame-seeking, but the specifics would require further observation.
Chu Xingchen withdrew his gaze and looked at the imposing Cui Hao.
In the concept of the Second Sage, rites naturally represented principles.
Using unified and standardized great rites, such as ruler and subject, son and father as the framework, using great rites like loyalty and filial piety to replace common principles—meaning loyalty was absolutely correct, and filial piety was also absolutely correct.
To modern people, nothing is absolute.
But Confucian scholars who had read these books thoroughly were different. In their eyes, these matters were as absolute as one plus one equals two.
It couldn't be said that their minds weren't sharp; this was purely a limitation of their era.
Moreover, for Confucianism, the collective was far more important than the individual. Layered upon each other, if everyone recognized something, how could you deny it?
Therefore, Confucianism never lacked blind loyalty and blind filial piety.
Greatest loyalty means not caring about right or wrong; greatest filial piety means not caring about right or wrong.
Even though Confucius once said—accept the small cane, but flee from the large one—it didn't prevent the later emergence of what now seems difficult to understand, such as stories of blind filial piety like Guo Ju burying his son.
Naturally, the blame for this kind of thinking couldn't be entirely placed on the sage's words.
After all, after the sage was gone, later generations could arbitrarily interpret the meaning—after all, the sage couldn't rise from the dead to debate with you.
For a philosophy to spread, besides having a program, it needed an audience. For the sake of the audience, great scholars were naturally willing to make minor modifications to better align with certain interests, allowing Confucianism to go further.
If viewed by principles, today's Confucian rites are like the white horse.
Denying the white horse is also denying the bloated rites of Confucianism.
If the white horse is sophistry, then what are Confucian rites?
Chen Wenqian wrote continuously, his gaze quickly scanning what the other great scholars had written. He glanced twice and slightly shook his head, indicating it wouldn't do.
Li Junzi looked at Chen Wenqian, seemingly expecting his answer.
After an unknown time, the neglected brush floating in the air suddenly flickered with a faint light.
Chen Wenqian glanced at the worn brush and knew there wasn't much time left for this answer. He scanned the desk again, filled with papers full of content.
This was sophistry, and extremely dangerous sophistry.
The correct way to face this kind of sophistry was not to try to defeat it within the opponent's logical framework.
Chen Wenqian thought for a long time, then suddenly spoke:
"The world's concepts are free to discuss; things are things, but a white thing is not a thing is impractical."
"Can win with words, but cannot convince the heart."
Hearing this, Cui Hao showed a smile on his face. Chen Wenqian's meaning was that time was tight, he didn't have time to refute, and to avoid being caught, he was surrendering half the battle.
After all, what's the use of winning this debate? Great rites can govern the world's etiquette and righteousness, but what's the practical use of winning this debate?
But in terms of words, he had surrendered half a move.
But that was enough. What followed was for the protagonist to handle; the path-clearing task was already done.
Cui Hao's gaze fell on Li Junzi, gave a slight bow, then slowly sat down.
Li Junzi nodded slightly to indicate understanding, but she didn't stand up immediately. Instead, her gaze looked toward Chu Xingchen, who had been looking very relaxed all along.
Three days ago, night.
Li Junzi pushed open the door, her gaze looking at Chu Xingchen lying in a rocking chair, and the Yuyang Dao Master in another rocking chair.
When the moon hung high in the sky, Chu Xingchen had sent Chen Baiqing off to sleep.
Although Chen Baiqing didn't understand why a Golden Core cultivator like her needed to sleep, she wasn't like her senior sister who simply loved sleeping.
But seeing her master's stern face, saying she wouldn't grow taller if she didn't sleep properly.
Chen Baiqing still obeyed her master's words. After all, her master said he would stay for a few more days, so she would see him tomorrow.
Not wanting to upset her master, Chen Baiqing nodded obediently and withdrew.
Chu Xingchen naturally noticed Li Junzi's movements. He stood up, looked at her and asked:
"Is the debate preparation going smoothly?"
Li Junzi nodded slightly: "Cui Hao is exceptionally talented, and I have benefited greatly as well."
Chu Xingchen said calmly: "Then have you come to admire tonight's moonlight?"
Li Junzi shook her head: "I have an unanswered question. 'White horse is not a horse' is ultimately not just a concept."
"Mr. Li, weren't you initially just trying to debate that Confucianism is not eternal truth? Can't the white horse prove this point?"
"What I want to do is not just win the debate, but to correct it."
Li Jun raised her head toward the moon: "That experience in Linjiagou, besides the principles of the Second Sage, also showed me things beyond those principles. While teaching Luoyu, I have also been deeply contemplating that many of the Second Sage's principles can only be used for observation, not for practice, otherwise it becomes a mess."
"I know that Chu Sect Leader probably already knows how to correct it, but after thinking it over and over, I couldn't help but feel confused and wanted to ask."
Hearing this, Chu Xingchen smiled and nodded, then said naturally:
"Mr. Li, haven't you already known what to do and have already done it?"
"To correct it, what you need to do is first discard the books of the Second Sage; otherwise, you will always be just following rules."
Chu Xingchen's tone suddenly turned serious, speaking earnestly:
"The important part is the word 'done.' I can only say so much."
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