Chapter Thirty: The Challenge

“Some of you might think, ‘I’m going off to war, not making friends. As long as I’m strong enough, what does it matter if I’m alone?’” The young man smiled. “It matters a great deal—you’ll die, that’s what! Honestly... I don’t even know how to get this through to you. My benefactor once told me: speak to people as you would to the living, to ghosts as you would to the dead. If you haven’t reached that state of mind, my words are wasted on you. Still, remember this warning today!”

“In Nine Cauldrons City, you can be whoever you wish—eccentric or smooth-tongued, follow your own heart. But in the army, to deliberately cut yourself off from the group is to court death!” The young man continued, “I’ve taught you for nearly two years now, and I truly can’t bear to see you die in vain.”

“Teacher, who is your benefactor? That crazy snake-woman?” Shen Miao called out.

“Insolence!” The young man flared with anger. “Shen Miao, how dare you insult my benefactor?! Come here! I challenge you to a duel!”

At first, Shen Miao was startled, but soon shouted back, “Teacher, are you seriously challenging me to a duel? Isn’t that a bit shameless?!”

“You brought it on yourself,” the young man retorted. “Anyone who insults my benefactor is my mortal enemy!”

Shen Miao, unafraid in the least, booed him. She had no intention of answering the challenge. Wen Rong, Shao Xue, and Ye Ling all grinned, joining in to support Shen Miao, and soon other students followed suit—boos echoed throughout Hanwu Hall.

This young instructor, named Xie En, did not seem to embody much authority. He didn’t take offense, simply gestured at Shen Miao, “Scared? If you’re scared, I’ll let you off this once. Don’t do it again.”

“Thank you for your mercy! Things are lively here,” a woman in her thirties said as she ascended the platform.

Xie En turned to her, his brow furrowing. “Instructor Wu, what brings you to Hanwu Hall?”

“Autumn’s end martial contest is approaching, Xie En. Any thoughts?” The woman smiled.

“If you have something to say, spit it out. Don’t beat around the bush.” Xie En’s manner was blunt.

“I meant well; I didn’t step on your tail. Why so prickly?” The woman’s smile faded.

“How many times has our Fifth Battalion clashed with your First this past year? All right, I’m a bit slow, a bit foolish, I’ll believe your good intentions. But ask them—do they believe you?” Xie En gestured to his students.

The students’ gazes toward the woman were decidedly unfriendly. In reality, Longteng Martial Academy had always encouraged internal competition, especially between battalions. Of course, it had to be handled with finesse—to inspire rivalry without breeding deep resentment.

The academy had fifty-six battalions, each with twenty to thirty students, each led by an instructor who was rarely replaced. Too many students and the instructor couldn’t oversee everyone’s progress; too few, and resources were wasted. The numbers were just right.

Battalions One through Ten were filled mostly with scions of nobility. If these students wished to go to war, the nation’s ruler would immediately grant them military rank—they could become officers directly, at least mid-level ones. Naturally, these ten battalions enjoyed the best conditions: powerful instructors, free use of all academy resources, and even a monthly stipend of spirit stones—though only one low-grade stone every three months, a pittance to noble families, but better than nothing.

The vast Longteng Martial Academy saw these ten battalions occupy half the campus, gradually creating a divide between the noble-born and commoners. But decades ago, the academy made sweeping changes—building walls to physically split the campus in two.

Commoner students advanced much more slowly than those of noble birth. Resources were an insurmountable barrier: commoners received no monthly stipend, and tempering their life-bound techniques could cost hundreds of thousands in gold—an impossible dream.

Where once the noble-born formed cliques to suppress the commoners, now with the separation, the infighting began to seep into the ranks of the nobility itself. Human nature is a strange thing—without rivals, one feels ill at ease.

The First and Fifth Battalions had become old adversaries, the root cause always competition. Not just the students, but the two instructors, too, were like oil and water. Wu had once been the wife of the Fifth Battalion’s previous instructor, who had been pushed out by Xie En’s arrival at the academy.

Instructor was a lucrative position. Naturally, families hoped their own children’s instructor would teach with full devotion.

“Then I’ll be direct,” Instructor Wu said with a smile. “My students hope to gain more experience before the autumn martial contest.”

“And?” Xie En prompted.

“I hear Twin Ridge Mountain is free. Since we have nothing pressing, why not head over there for a while?” Wu suggested.

“Capture the Flag?!” Xie En’s tone grew wary.

“Yes,” Wu nodded. “Capture the Flag is the least confrontational, unlikely to cause injuries—perfect for the students to play.”

“Instructor, don’t fall for their trap!” Shen Miao cried. “Princess Tiehui of the Seventh has already tempered her life-bound technique. Capture the Flag? How can we possibly win?!”

“Is that true?” Xie En was stunned. In his Fifth Battalion, the most advanced student, Wen Rong, had only advanced to Innate Martialist a year ago. Her elemental veins were not yet tough, her power insufficient—nowhere near ready to temper a life-bound technique. Forcing it would only harm her future.

“It’s true! We all saw it!” Shao Xue shouted.

“Instructor Wu, isn’t that rather underhanded?” Xie En’s tone chilled.

“Princess Tiehui has only tempered her technique within the past month. With her power, she can at most use it once, maybe twice before exhausting herself—she might even injure her own veins,” Wu replied. “Her combat power is only a little stronger than before.”

“Even so, there’s no way to win. If she charges in and forces Wen Rong or Shao Xue out of the match, we lose,” Xie En said.

“There’s a bet involved,” Wu smiled.

“What kind of bet?” Xie En paused.

“If you win, I’ll transfer one thousand merit points from the First Battalion to yours. You’re in the red right now; with a thousand points, work hard in the coming months and Hanwu Hall is yours again next year,” Wu said.

The students on the platform erupted in whispers. For them, this was a temptation beyond refusal—one month training in Hanwu Hall was worth three or four months elsewhere. Come the Sect Selection, they’d have a real edge.

“And if we lose?” Xie En asked.

“Simple—you give up Hanwu Hall to us for half a year,” Wu replied.

“You seem pretty sure of yourself,” Xie En sneered.

“Don’t drag it out—yes or no? Stop dithering.” Wu demanded.

Xie En’s eyes darted, sneaking a glance at Ye Xin. Ye Xin shook his head slightly.

A smile broke over Xie En’s face. “Very well! Capture the Flag it is!”

Ye Xin nearly bit his tongue in shock. What on earth was Xie En up to?

“Instructor Xie, don’t agree to it!” Wen Rong suddenly called out.

“Relax! Victory is ours!” Xie En beamed.

“Oh?” Wu’s eyes flashed with mockery. “Then it’s settled.”

“A pledge with a handshake!” Xie En held out his hand.

Their palms met sharply. Wu then said, “No time like the present. I’ll let my students go home to inform their families. We should be able to return from Twin Ridge Mountain the day after tomorrow.”

“Agreed,” Xie En nodded.

Wu stepped off the platform and exited Hanwu Hall. Wen Rong looked anxious; as Wu disappeared, she forced a bitter smile. “Instructor Xie, you’ve been tricked!”

“How so?” Xie En looked at her warily.

“I suspect... there’s another in the First Battalion who has tempered their life-bound technique,” Wen Rong said.

“Who?” Xie En was startled.

“Deng Duojie.” At this point, Wen Rong could no longer keep it to herself.

“How do you know?” Xie En pressed.

“About four months ago, Lord Deng suddenly came to my house to see my grandfather, asking to borrow three hundred thousand gold coins. The next day, Shao Xue told me Deng’s uncle went to her house, asking for two hundred thousand,” Wen Rong explained.

“Nonsense—Deng’s family has plenty of money. Why would they come to you?” Xie En was skeptical.

“They must’ve needed it urgently. Every family runs businesses—who keeps piles of banknotes at home? At most, Deng’s family would have a hundred thousand on hand. My family didn’t have much either—only gave Lord Deng a hundred thousand,” Wen Rong said.

“And what does that prove?” Xie En asked.

“Instructor, what sort of thing could be so urgent?” Wen Rong continued. “My family and Deng’s aren’t that close, and yet he came to us. He must’ve already asked everyone else. By my count, Lord Deng must have raised at least a million, maybe several million in gold. What could be worth that much?”

“Spell it out,” Xie En said.

“Instructor, are you truly clueless or just pretending?” Shao Xue couldn’t help interjecting. “It has to be spirit crystals! Lord Deng must have found a cultivator with a stash of high-grade crystals, and the cultivator was about to leave Nine Cauldrons City. There was no time to sell property, so he had to borrow from others.”

“And what does that have to do with Deng Duojie?” Xie En asked.

Shao Xue pressed her hand to her forehead. Even Ye Xin couldn’t stand it anymore. In truth, Xie En was not stupid, just incredibly lazy—he’d never stand if he could sit, never sit if he could lie down, and hated to think if he could avoid it.