Chapter 88: The Counterattack of the National Academy Youths
That knight was in his twenties, with delicate brows and eyes, yet carried an air of cold arrogance. As he spoke, his gaze fell on the dilapidated gate of the National Academy, as if he hadn’t even noticed Chen Changsheng and the other two rushing over. He looked utterly proud.
Chen Changsheng and the others had arrived in a hurry. Tang Thirty-Six was still tying his hair into a bun with one hand. When he saw the scene before him, he froze. After hearing the knight’s words, his eyes narrowed. He glanced once, then without a word, turned and walked straight into the National Academy.
Xuan Yuan Po didn’t look at the knights. Instead, he stared at the dying warhorse lying in the puddle. As a young demon, his injuries healed quickly. His right arm still needed Chen Changsheng’s treatment, but his left leg had already recovered, so he didn’t need a crutch. He walked over slowly.
Chen Changsheng stood alone at the entrance of the National Academy, watching the knights and that cold, arrogant young noble.
Smashing the gate and breaking the cauldron were the most violent acts, rarely used unless there was an irreconcilable grudge. He didn’t know this young noble, but he could guess why he had come. He slowly clenched his fists, then remembered he had left his short sword in the small building.
Xuan Yuan Po crouched beside the warhorse, looking at what should have been a magnificent steed now lying in the rainwater, barely alive. He saw the blood foam spurting from its mouth. The young demon’s eyes gradually turned cold.
A light rain began again in the early morning. Raindrops fell into the puddles, creating tiny splashes. They landed on the warhorse’s body, making it look cold. Xuan Yuan Po lowered his head, touched the horse’s gradually cooling body, then reached out his right hand to press against its neck, applying a little force.
With a muffled crack, the rain continued to fall. The warhorse closed its eyes and found release.
Xuan Yuan Po stood up and looked at the young noble on horseback. “If you wanted to break our gate, you could have used stones or a tree trunk. Why did you have to make it pull a cart to ram it? Just because you thought it would look tough? No, it only makes you look more shameless.”
The young noble ignored him. Though the demon youth was somewhat connected to the matter, he wasn’t the main target today. Looking down at Chen Changsheng, he said coldly, “Are you Chen Changsheng?”
Chen Changsheng didn’t answer, because a gust of wind swept past him.
That wind cut through the light rain that had descended on the National Academy along with the dawn, rolling toward the dozen or so riders outside the gate.
It was Tang Thirty-Six. Earlier, like Chen Changsheng, he had left his sword in the small building. When he saw the scene at the gate, he hadn’t said a word but had gone back into the National Academy—not out of fear or to find reinforcements, but to retrieve his sword.
With a sword in hand, one could kill.
Without any words, Tang Thirty-Six rushed out of the National Academy, sword in hand, and without a moment’s pause, charged at the young noble and his riders.
The Wenshui Sword gleamed with cold light. In the dim morning rain, a sun suddenly appeared, its red rays spreading outward—not warm, but utterly deadly.
Sunset Hanging.
Having the gate deliberately smashed was an infuriating act.
Tang Thirty-Six was furious, so he struck with the most powerful of the Three Wenshui Techniques.
At the dim gate in the morning rain, it suddenly became as bright as noon.
The young noble’s brows twitched. His mount moved forward, retreating a few steps.
Two knights appeared before him. With a flick of their wrists, two iron spears materialized in the wind and rain, meeting Tang Thirty-Six’s sword.
Only the Great Zhou’s most powerful Northern Army was equipped with such iron spears.
Seeing these two spears rise through the wind and rain, Tang Thirty-Six knew that these dozen or so men, dressed in fine clothes and looking like carefree youths of the capital, were actually veterans from the northern front. But he didn’t care. The Wenshui Sword, carrying a murderous crimson intent, swept forward.
Where the sword’s edge passed, rainwater hissed and turned into white steam.
Two deafening clangs exploded in the morning rain.
Clang! Clang!
The two iron spears snapped into four pieces, flying sideways into the depths of the rain, crashing heavily to the ground, splashing water, shattering the blue stone slabs, and smashing into the outer wall of a street-side building. The broken ends of the spears glowed faintly red; rainwater hitting them evaporated instantly.
With muffled groans, the two knights were knocked from their mounts, falling into the rainwater. Two clear sword marks appeared on their chests, blood gushing out.
Such was the true power of the Wenshui Three Swords’ Sunset Hanging.
The night before last, in the battle before the Weiyang Palace with Qi Jian, it was about victory or defeat, not life or death. With Chen Changsheng guiding him, Tang Thirty-Six had been restrained, unable to let loose. Not like this morning, when he struck with fury, truly unleashing his full strength.
Of course, those two knights were strong men of the Great Zhou Northern Army. Tang Thirty-Six, in his rage, had cut through their iron spears with one strike and knocked them into the rain, but it had cost him something. His hastily tied bun had come loose, black hair spilling over his shoulders, his face slightly pale.
He stood in the morning rain, holding the Wenshui Sword, looking at those men with an extremely proud expression, showing no sign of injury.
Moments earlier, he had pushed his true essence to its peak, feeling as if molten lava flowed through his meridians. The Wenshui Sword had just given birth to a sun. Now, rainwater fell on his black hair, his body, and the sword’s edge, all turning into white steam.
He stood as if in smoke.
The young noble looked at Tang Thirty-Six, guessed who he was, and slowly narrowed his eyes, like willow leaves, his gaze growing sharper. Cold words forced their way through his thin, merciless lips, becoming even more cutting: “Quite bold, daring to—”
He didn’t finish, because Tang Thirty-Six shouted, “What are you waiting for? Don’t let him finish!”
When he said “What are you waiting for,” Xuan Yuan Po had already lifted a corner of a large wooden plank from the rainwater.
The gate of the National Academy had been built countless years ago. When the Education Bureau renovated it recently, they hadn’t replaced it because it was still sturdy enough. The gate was twice a man’s height and about two palms thick. Earlier, if the warhorse hadn’t rammed it with the cart at the cost of its life, it wouldn’t have been broken.
Now the gate was broken. What Xuan Yuan Po lifted was a remnant piece of the broken gate, still twice a man’s height and two palms thick, standing up like a rockery.
Even a cultivator who had thoroughly washed their marrow would find it hard to lift such a piece of gate with pure physical strength.
Xuan Yuan Po’s right arm was injured, but his left arm could still exert force. Relying on his demon bloodline, he managed to lift the plank.
Several knights noticed his movement. To ensure the young noble’s safety, they moved toward him.
That was when Tang Thirty-Six finished his sentence.
Xuan Yuan Po let out a roar. With one arm, he lifted the gate plank, as massive as a small mountain, and hurled it at the young noble.
With a terrifying crash in the morning rain, countless dust and smoke burst through the rain.
The ground before the National Academy trembled slightly, as if the rainwater pooled on it would leap up.
Two muffled groans.
Two knights turned into black shadows, flying far into the depths of the morning rain, crashing heavily to the ground.
They still held their iron spears, but the spears were bent.
The young noble’s mount reacted quickly, sidestepping a few paces. He wasn’t hit by Xuan Yuan Po’s attack, so he wasn’t injured, but the splashing dirty water and dust stained his clothes. His previously cold brows and eyes could no longer maintain their composure.
His face turned pale, and his right hand, holding the reins, trembled slightly.
Not from fear, but from anger.
His gaze fell on the three youths outside the National Academy gate.
Tang Thirty-Six, standing in the smoke with his sword.
Xuan Yuan Po, standing in the rain with the gate plank.
Chen Changsheng, standing under the broken eaves of the gate, having not acted, his clothes barely wet.
He was truly furious.
He had sacrificed a warhorse to smash the gate of this broken-down academy, thinking it was iron-blooded and fitting for his noble, powerful status. When the people inside came out, he planned to scold them, establish his authority, and then unleash his fury.
But now, not only had he failed to unleash his fury, he hadn’t even managed to finish a single sentence before four of his subordinates were severely injured.
He had broken the gate of the National Academy, and now they were using that very gate to make him look so pathetic!
The momentum of his morning rain assault on the broken academy was now severely undermined. This made him extremely uncomfortable, extremely angry.
Everyone in the capital knew that when he got angry, terrifying things happened.
When he was in a rage, even Zhou Tong kept silent.
He looked at the three youths in the rain as if they were already dead.
“Very good, very good…”
The young noble laughed in his fury, a sickly red appearing on his pale cheeks, making him look unhealthy and somewhat sinister.
Before the young noble could speak again, Tang Thirty-Six said to Chen Changsheng, “When he talks later, don’t let him finish.”
Xuan Yuan Po also looked at Chen Changsheng. The two of them had already acted; now it was this guy’s turn.
Chen Changsheng looked at him, puzzled. “Why?”
“Don’t give him a chance to blow up. Suffocate him.”
“Like your plan at the start of the night before last?”
“Yes.”
“This is important, because I’m very unhappy, so he shouldn’t be happy either.”
Tang Thirty-Six looked at the now-ruined gate of the National Academy, his expression blank.
Chen Changsheng looked at the broken gate, silent, and found that he, too, was very unhappy.
Just then, the young noble’s voice rang out in the light rain. “Very good, very good…”
Chen Changsheng made up his mind. He looked up at the other and said something.
He hesitated as he spoke, unaccustomed to it, feeling resistant. Because he had never said anything like this before. But aside from this, he didn’t know how to interrupt the other’s words. And, as Tang Thirty-Six had said, the broken gate of the National Academy in the rain made him angry.
“Good…”
He looked at the young noble, speaking earnestly and stiffly: “…your grandmother’s.”
From Xining Town to the capital, he had rarely cursed, rarely even used foul language. So now, his words were awkward, even stiff, with several pauses, like a child learning to speak, spitting out words one by one.
Logically, the other party had plenty of time to interrupt him, but they didn’t.
Chen Changsheng thought he had finally done it, even if it seemed clumsy.
He looked at Tang Thirty-Six, hoping for some praise, but found the atmosphere strange.
The gate of the National Academy in the morning rain was utterly silent. The dust and smoke in the ruins were soaked by the rain, not daring to rise.
(Second chapter tonight. Also, the monthly ticket ranking is now second. Please check if you still have monthly tickets. If you like “The Legend of the Sky,” please vote for this book. If you like this cat, please continue to like it. Bow.)