All paper used within the Inkbound Order comes from the Paper Mill. Every worn page from the book repository, every scrap left from the printing blocks, every sheet of waste paper from the Study Halls - all are gathered into the workshop, soaked in pulp, beaten anew, and drawn out once more as fresh paper. Even those scraps beyond all use are treated with reverence; they are placed into the furnace with care and propriety, never cast aside carelessly. Thus no paper within the Order is suffered to go to waste. Each sheet, however humble, is given new life through many hands - frugality nurtures virtue, and the cultural lineage endures all the longer for it.
Penglai Penglai is a great island rising from the boundless sea. Its shores stretch across ten thousand acres of surging waves, where mirage towers drift in and out of sight. It is the armillary pivot of the age, the fathomless deep of Cultural Lineage. Sheer cliffs hang among the stars, and dragon-tides wash jade at their feet; vaulting mists gather into rosy clouds, while jade pavilions soar beyond the heavens. From the first waters of creation springs Mo Pool; from the six foundations of earth rise the archive towers. The Sage Statue stands upon the summit, hands clasped, bearing the waves of learning from all four seas. Tianyi Tower anchors its heart, its shelves ranked with ten thousand scrolls, housing the records of all nine provinces.
Within its halls dwell those who contemplate the perils of the age. The Ten Sages line the walls, each bearing statecraft within their hearts; when at last they rise and shake their robes, they become the oars that bear the realm across its rivers. Here too reside the Twin Mavens, who walk the way of both brush and blade. They may draft a proclamation with a stroke, and carry within their breast the map of the Nine Lands.
The spirit of learning here is earnest and deep, and the thirst for the Way unceasing. Whether of noble house or humble cloth, all who come with sincerity of purpose may take up their satchel and enter. In the morning, the Classics are recited; in the evening, the codes of law are studied. History is debated beneath the shadows of bamboo, and the meanings of the scriptures are parsed amid the sound of the tides. Masters guide with patience, making no distinction of birth; students press on with diligence, seeking only truth.
Those who study here are not merely gifted in letters and arts, they are instruments fit to mend the heavens and bathe the sun anew. By day they discourse on statutes to set the world aright; by night they devise stratagems to bring peace to the realm. Though they bend over their desks by lamplight, not a single day passes in which they forget their resolve to purge corruption, uplift virtue, and uphold all under Heaven.
In praise it is said: Penglai rises in majesty, and the Inkbound Order flows vast and deep. Education for All... by this Way, the light shines forth without end. Beholding its capacity to hold seas and bear mountains, to embrace both breadth and refinement... is this not the torch passed down from Confucius, the lamp of the heart burning bright through a hundred generations?
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