Chapter 18: The First Battle of the National Teaching Institute
Outside the National Teaching Institute, the crowd was as noisy as a great cauldron with its water at a rolling boil. Beneath the awnings set up along the street outside Hundred Flowers Lane, many shopkeepers and stewards were busy taking bets from the common folk. As long as the battle hadn’t started, bets could be placed at any time. Yet, for some reason, the odds had remained unchanged from yesterday to today.
Not everyone was fond of gambling. Many citizens of the capital were simply there to watch the excitement. After all, this was a grand event—Chen Changsheng had become the dean of the National Teaching Institute, then entered the Zhou Garden, and this was his first public appearance since returning to the capital. Today was very important to him, and equally important to the institute. If last year, Chen Changsheng becoming the institute’s first student in many years was more of a symbolic gesture, then today’s battle was the institute’s true reemergence into the world.
If this were a story, the natural progression would be Chen Changsheng winning smoothly, and the long-decayed National Teaching Institute proclaiming its rebirth to the entire continent. Unfortunately, everyone knew today’s story wouldn’t unfold that way, because his opponent was a Star Gathering realm expert. The institute’s debut battle would likely end in a dismal defeat.
People gazed at the tightly shut gates of the National Teaching Institute, then at Zhou Ziheng standing expressionless before them, and sighed with emotion. Everyone knew that the new rules for the inter-academy tournament were a scheme by the Tianhai family and the new faction of the National Church to suppress the institute and Chen Changsheng. Adding to that, the legendary wolf-clan youth Zhexiu was still imprisoned in the Zhou Prison, and behind all this, one could see the unassailable figure of Her Holiness the Empress.
How could Her Holiness ever give the National Teaching Institute a real chance to grow? If there were no internal divisions within the National Church, or if the Palace of Departure had reacted more strongly to this suppression, the institute wouldn’t have been pushed into such an awkward position. Unfortunately, even within the National Church, many didn’t want to see the institute truly revive. The two Holy See Archbishops who proposed the new rules for the inter-academy tournament had already declared their stance to the entire continent. Even as His Holiness the Pope changed his mind, they still stood by the Empress’s side.
What was striking was that these two Holy See Archbishops had grown into two towering trees—the six giants of the National Church—under the deliberate cultivation of His Holiness the Pope. It was precisely because of His Holiness that they had come into contact with Her Holiness. Now that His Holiness had changed his position, he couldn’t make everyone in the Palace of Departure change theirs. After all, the Palace of Departure and Her Holiness had been inseparable for over two hundred years—how could they sever ties overnight?
Archbishop Melisande had died last night. His Holiness the Pope had lost his former greatest rival and his greatest comrade. And His Holiness had to maintain an appearance of fairness. No matter how many ideas the Palace of Departure had, it couldn’t openly favor the National Teaching Institute before the eyes of thousands. So today’s battle, no matter how difficult or bleak the outcome, had to be fought by the institute alone. Over the past year, under the care of the Palace of Departure, Chen Changsheng and the institute had weathered little hardship, growing smoothly and healthily. Now, it was time for them to start sharing the storms with the Palace of Departure—if not shielding it from the rain, then at least standing together in the wind.
Of course, this wasn’t fair. Most of the people on the street thought so. Through the registration records at the Ecclesiastical Office, the Four Great Markets had confirmed to all of Kyoto that the National Teaching Institute now had only five registered students. Princess Luoluo, due to her special status, couldn’t represent the institute in battle. Zhexiu, whom many considered the strongest, was locked in the Zhou Prison. So when the other academies issued their challenge, the institute had little room to maneuver or choose.
There were no long-famous masters or experts here—only young people.
The gates of the National Teaching Institute pushed open, and Chen Changsheng walked out, with Xuanyuan Po and Tang Thirty-Six following behind him.
A stir ran through the street, then quickly fell silent.
For the institute’s battle, the one to fight was naturally Chen Changsheng, because he was the dean.
He wore a brand-new academy uniform today, the stitches fine and dense, the cuffs neatly trimmed, looking very tidy. His black hair was tightly bound, his features delicate and clear, giving an impression of cleanliness.
He walked to the gates, bowed deeply toward the inn in Hundred Flowers Lane, then turned to Zhou Ziheng and nodded.
For a sixteen-year-old, he was indeed too calm and composed, but there was no trace of premature world-weariness or murkiness about him. He felt like a gentle breeze.
Just by his bearing, he truly looked like a dean.
Sincere praise came from all directions.
The common folk watching couldn’t break through the imperial guards and the Palace of Departure priests, so they could only watch from afar, not clearly, but they found the young dean increasingly pleasing to the eye.
Last spring’s siege of the National Teaching Institute by all of Kyoto was long in the past. Archbishop Melisande was dead, the bloodstains before the Ecclesiastical Office were gone—who still remembered those? After the Grand Examination, the Heavenly Book Mausoleum, and the Zhou Garden, Chen Changsheng had long become the pride of the Great Zhou Dynasty. Kyoto was the capital of Great Zhou, and the National Teaching Institute was in Kyoto, so the people of Kyoto naturally considered him their pride as well.
With praise came discussion and regret. People always felt today’s battle was unfair. The entire continent knew that Chen Changsheng and Xu Yourong were the fastest geniuses in history to enter the upper level of Penetrating Obscurity. But that was still the upper level of Penetrating Obscurity. His opponent, Zhou Ziheng, was a true expert at the initial level of Star Gathering. Achieving victory across realms was already extremely rare, let alone the fact that for Chen Changsheng to win today, he needed to cross an entire major realm—how high a threshold was that?
“Last night, I heard from the receptionist at the Thousand Mechanisms Pavilion that Young Dean Chen didn’t take a step back in front of Lord Zhu Luo in Xunyang City. Zhou Ziheng is only at Star Gathering—who says he’ll definitely win?”
“That’s right, I heard that too. In Xunyang City, Young Dean Chen even clashed with that madman Xiao Zhang. Though he couldn’t match him, he didn’t suffer much loss either.”
Many discussions arose from the crowd. Surprisingly, the vast majority seemed to favor Chen Changsheng. Or perhaps it wasn’t favor, but an emotional inclination.
“Please, get your facts straight. No matter how impressive Young Dean Chen’s performance was in Xunyang City, he had Su Li and Wang Po by his side then, and the situation was chaotic. Now it’s one-on-one,” someone sneered. “I won’t argue with you. If you really believe, why don’t you bet on the National Teaching Institute to win?”
The crowd quieted for a moment. Indeed, people only hoped Chen Changsheng would win—they didn’t truly believe it. In fact, very few had placed bets on the institute.
“Odds of one to eleven—there’s just no way to bet on the institute.”
“If it were any other upper-level Penetrating Obscurity cultivator challenging a Star Gathering expert, do you think those sly foxes would even set odds? Let alone set up a special awning and put on such a big show. In my opinion, the Four Great Markets probably think Young Dean Chen will lose, but at least he’ll hold out for a while.”
“Even if Zhou Ziheng is only at the initial level of Star Gathering, to defeat an opponent a full realm lower—does it really take that long?”
“Don’t forget how Wang Po, back when he was at the upper level of Penetrating Obscurity, chopped his initial-level Star Gathering opponent into a madman.”
“I also think Young Dean Chen is very capable, but I don’t believe he can match Wang Po back then. Don’t forget, Wang Po achieved Star Gathering in that very battle.”
“And don’t you forget, Young Dean Chen also achieved Penetrating Obscurity in the final match of the Grand Examination at the start of the year.”
“That’s exactly why I think it’s impossible. It’s only been half a year—how could it happen twice in a row? Unless it’s a miracle.”
The watching crowd argued fiercely, but only the betting amounts and numbers reflected their true opinions.
As the people analyzed, including the Four Great Markets running the gambling and many big shots in the capital, no one favored Chen Changsheng. Even though Chen Changsheng had already displayed his astonishing talent and combat ability in the Zhou Garden and Xunyang City, that was because he wasn’t the main focus in Xunyang, and the battles before that had no audience.
The top floor of Cheng Lake Tower was cleared today, with only one person dining. He always believed that the best way to enjoy the lake required not the right weather, but solitude. It was summer now, so the tower’s famous crab feast couldn’t be served, but the table was still densely packed with dozens of dishes, each one likely costing more than an ordinary person’s yearly living expenses.
Such a lavish figure was naturally no ordinary person.
Before Tianhai Chengwu lay a plate of blue lobster from the Western Continent. The flesh, white as jade but more tender and cold, had been carved by Cheng Lake Tower’s head chef into the shape of chrysanthemums with exquisite knife work.
He picked up his chopsticks, then after a moment, shook his head and set them down.
He had no appetite. The several dossiers in his hand, with their descriptions of bloody scenes, were truly nauseating. These dossiers detailed Chen Changsheng’s battles with General Xue He, Liang Hongzhuang, and the northern magnate Lin Pingyuan. The first two battles were recounted by Xue He and Liang Hongzhuang themselves; the last, since Chen Changsheng had killed everyone, was reconstructed from the scene afterward.
Having confirmed something, Tianhai Chengwu’s mood improved greatly. He picked up his chopsticks again, lifted a piece of lobster meat to his lips, and chewed slowly, finding it sweet on his tongue.
“Now that Su Li isn’t here, how can you still win?”
Throughout Kyoto, no one favored Chen Changsheng.
The archbishop who had favored him was now sleeping quietly in Plum Alley.
The Ecclesiastical Office was filled with an air of grief, but many priests still looked toward the National Teaching Institute.
Luoluo stood by the plum blossom pond, representing the institute and fulfilling her duties. Suddenly hearing a sound from afar, she walked to the window and looked toward the institute, her hands clenching into fists.
Master will definitely win.
Even if no one else believed in Chen Changsheng, she still believed he would achieve final victory. No reason needed.
At some point, Mo Yu arrived at the National Teaching Institute.
She didn’t go to watch the battle at the institute’s gates. Many big shots were already there to oversee the scene—Xue Xingchuan was in that tea house—so there was no need for her to go.
For some reason, she appeared in Chen Changsheng’s room.
She wasn’t asleep. She sat by the window, gazing at the lush forest within the institute, lost in thought.
Suddenly, a boom came from the front courtyard.
Her pupils contracted as she looked toward the source of the sound.
The first battle of the National Teaching Institute had begun without warning.
Zhou Ziheng drew his sword.
Chen Changsheng drew his sword.
Each struck one blow.
The Palace of Departure priest responsible for recording the scene watched without blinking.
Dozens of painters and storytellers watched the field with tense attention.
Thousands of Kyoto citizens fell silent.
Elsewhere in the capital, countless more people waited to hear the latest news of the battle and see the newest images.
The only ones capable of this were the Four Great Markets.
Painters of profound skill and insight began to sketch the moment Zhou Ziheng and Chen Changsheng struck their blows.
Especially the painter from the Heavenly Mechanisms Pavilion, who himself possessed Star Gathering cultivation. With a few rough strokes, an image leaped onto the paper. Though hasty, it had already perfectly captured the trajectory and spirit of those two sword strikes.
Moments later, this painting was transmitted via magical artifact to various parts of Kyoto.
It was a rough sketch, extremely crude and simple. If one didn’t know what it depicted, they might think it was the scribbling of a child just learning to write.
The room was silent. Students from the Heavenly Dao Academy gathered around the table, filled with countless questions but afraid to ask, afraid to disturb the person before them who was studying the painting.
No Heavenly Dao Academy student dared approach that person, out of reverence, out of devotion, because that person was Senior Brother Guan Bai.
If Zhuang Huanyu, who had killed himself a few days ago, was the pride of the Heavenly Dao Academy in the last two years, then Guan Bai was its pride over the past decade. Like the others on the Carefree List, Guan Bai had his own title: Great Name Guan Bai.
In recent years, it was he who had kept the academy’s great name from falling.
Guan Bai’s brows and eyes were like swords, slightly weathered, clearly just returned from afar.
His gaze fell on that rough, simple piece of paper, then grew sharper, as if it were a real sword.
His fingers traced lightly along the lines on the paper, producing a hissing sound, as if sword intent were breaking through the air at his fingertips.
After an unknown time, he withdrew his fingers and his gaze, looking out the window toward the National Teaching Institute. His expression was complex as he said, “Good sword.”
Finally, a student couldn’t help but ask, “Senior Brother, who won?”
As soon as the words were spoken, they drew countless reproachful glances from classmates. Chen Changsheng and Zhou Ziheng’s battle had just begun; this painting only showed their first sword strike. How could one judge victory or defeat from that? This question only disturbed Senior Brother Guan Bai’s sword observation—how foolish.
Yet, to the surprise of these Heavenly Dao Academy students, Guan Bai actually made a judgment.
He looked at the few lines on the paper, at the ink about to congeal and the trailing strokes of the dry brush. Suddenly, sword light flashed in his eyes.
Then he said, “Chen Changsheng has won.”
(I will write the next chapter as soon as possible.)