561: Chapter 496: Students Across the World, Thoughts of a Hundred Schools Spread Across the Sea of ​​Stars

Three years later in autumn, the paulownia leaves at the Civilization Academy were turning a perfect shade of yellow. The wind in the valley was much gentler than at the Iron Wall Fortress. Morning mist slid slowly down the hillside, spreading a thin layer of moisture over the stone-paved square. Lin Zhou sat by the window on the second floor of the main building, a stack of newly graded test papers spread out before him; the ink at the top of the pages had not yet dried. When he first arrived three years ago, he hadn't quite adapted to this quiet rhythm. Now, that cyan-gold line traversing the New Universe still flowed across the night sky, while he sat before a window of yellow leaves, grading assignments from students across various Star Domains.

The Civilization Academy had just sent off its third batch of graduates. Three thousand Disciples, some remaining at the Academy for further study, others returning to their respective Star Domains to spread the teachings. They carried the seeds of the Hundred Schools of Thought, traveling outward along the nodes of the Great Wall of Civilization. Some taught in schools within fringe Star Domains, others took administrative roles in fortresses, and some chose even more distant paths. The assignment Lin Zhou was grading came from a young man named Han Mo, who had applied seven months ago to travel to a settlement on the edge of the Old Universe. On his application, he had written only one sentence: "I want to go to places where the Return to Ruins still lingers. Let the people there see the fire, too."

During the first month of the school year, people often came to the courtyard to ask, "Is the Dean here?" He usually was. Occasionally, someone would ask about the front lines, and he would answer briefly, but most of the time, he simply sat on the stone steps under the veranda, listening to them talk. Someone once asked him if the Way of Civilization was just about teaching people to be good. He didn't answer directly, but instead took the person into the school courtyard, pointed to a patch of wild grass just sprouting at the base of the wall, and said, "The Dao is not taught; it is lived. When you see it sprout, you know spring has arrived. You don't need to study 'what is spring' before you can see it. When spring comes, you just know."

The person stood there for a long time, then nodded and asked no more. The next day, he still came to attend lectures, only he no longer asked those "is it or isn't it" questions.

In the spring of the second year, the Hundred Schools of Thought began to spread steadily throughout the Human Race Star Domains. Some soldiers returning home on rotation from the front lines brought the Academy's textbooks with them, teaching the children about "Benevolence" and "Righteousness" under the big tree at the village entrance. These were the first lecture halls organized spontaneously by civilians—simple, unadorned, with no fluctuations of Divine Power, and no rituals whatsoever. At first, it was just a few children sitting in a circle, but later, more people listened, and adults began to bring chairs over to sit. There was no amplification magic; they just spoke to dozens of people at a time, but as far as the voice could travel, so too could the fire. It wasn't just one person or one village. Within a short year, similar lecture halls appeared in succession across hundreds of settlements. Most of those lecture halls were set up in squares or under trees, with no uniform specifications or textbooks. Some wrote "The benevolent person loves others" on the blackboard, others wrote "Universal love and mutual benefit," and some wrote "Tao Follows Nature." The handwriting varied, and the content had different emphases, but they were all talking about the same thing—that to be alive is not just for the sake of surviving.

In the summer of the third year, the Academy expanded, adding three side buildings to accommodate more students from various Star Domains. The names of the first batch of graduates were carved into the stone walls of the corridor; starting from the first one, three walls were already filled. Among those names, some remained at the Academy to teach, some returned to their hometowns to spread the teachings, and others were in even more distant places—schools in fringe Star Domains, makeshift podiums at frontier outposts, and some were following merchant caravans across Star Domains that were not yet fully stable, lecturing as they traveled. They would stop at each place for a few days, then leave after finishing their lectures. After they left, those who had listened began to teach others themselves.

This information was scattered throughout the briefings Li Mo sent every few months, mixed in with maintenance data for the Great Wall of Civilization, reports on the brightness of the fire seeds at various nodes, and rotation records of the front-line garrison, appearing like side branches unrelated to the main plot. But Lin Zhou knew that those branches were connecting into a new network, spreading deep into the Star Sea like tangled roots. Perhaps in a few more years, the roots of civilization would extend to every corner of the New Universe, connecting the entire Star Sea into a complete network that could not be covered by the Return to Ruins.

After the last major lecture of autumn ended, he walked out of the Academy's main gate alone and slowly walked a distance along the path in the valley. The mist had dissipated, and the trees on the distant mountains shimmered with varying shades of yellow in the afternoon sunlight. The wind blew down from the hillside, carrying the scent of grass seeds and withered leaves. He stopped when he reached the mouth of the valley, looking at the silhouette of the city in the distance, which was growing at a leisurely pace. The city wall was still the same one from years ago, but beneath the wall, several rows of newly built houses had appeared, and pale gray cooking smoke was rising from the chimneys on their roofs.

That cooking smoke drifted away with the wind, merging into the clear autumn sky. There was no need to specifically identify them, nor was there a need to keep in mind the source of every wisp of smoke. They were simply there, proving that someone was living there, and that was all.