Chapter 18: Chapter Eighteen: Ten Thousand Swords Art · Hundred Swords

The students watching the spectacle burst into laughter; it was clear that Hua Wenzé had terrible social standing.

“You dare call me a mad dog!”

Hua Wenzé, furious, stamped his feet and glared at the crowd: “No one laughs! Shut up!”

Every student at Wenyuan Academy had some “integrity”; besides, the Great Zhou Dynasty had no law forbidding laughter—they paid no heed to Hua Wenzé’s outburst and kept laughing and chatting among themselves.

“You’ll regret crossing Master Xiao.”

Hua Wenzé spat out a threat, then slunk over to Xiao Jinchén, who was surrounded by a circle of Confucian scholars like a moon surrounded by stars.

He’d hoped to curry favor—but ended up making a fool of himself.

“Useless waste!”

Xiao Jinchén sneered, roughly shoving Hua Wenzé aside, then glared at Chen Ji with gritted teeth:

“I said the Zhenbei Army’s retreat was cowardly—what’s it to you? I’ll say what I want. What are you, anyway, to dare argue with me?”

As the grandson of the Three Excellencies and former Chancellor, Xiao Jinchén’s furious words silenced the crowd instantly.

Everyone wanted to see whether the “stubborn” Chen Ji would back down.

“The Zhenbei Army guards the northern border with their lives—how dare you slander them? You may call these ‘heroes’ cowards, but can’t I correct you? What logic is that?”

Chen Ji asked coldly.

Xiao Jinchén’s face darkened; his fists clenched with a crunching sound.

In his entire life, surrounded by flattery and praise, he’d never met anyone who dared defy him.

Worse still, the shabbily dressed Chen Ji had humiliated him before everyone’s eyes.

What was this but slapping his face in public?

As the tension reached its peak and spiraled out of control, Lü Fang stepped forward with a bitter smile and said:

“It’s normal to hold different views—no need to argue here. Why not let the Supervising Office mediate…?”

Many students nodded in agreement; some even chimed in: “That’s reasonable.”

Xiao Jinchén glared at Lü Fang:

“Who are you to ‘teach’ me?”

Chen Ji stepped forward, standing before Lü Fang, and said to Xiao Jinchén: “Whatever you want, come after me. Don’t drag others into this.”

“I’ll give you one last chance—kneel down here before everyone and kowtow to apologize!”

Xiao Jinchén sneered arrogantly.

“Can’t do it.” Chen Ji stood firm.

Xiao Jinchén’s brow twitched—he lunged forward, grabbing Chen Ji’s shoulder. The sudden attack was too swift for most to react.

Crack!

The sound of snapping bone echoed—the grip had dislocated Chen Ji’s shoulder!

Xiao Jinchén grinned wickedly, ready to strike again.

Shing! A sword’s hum rang out.

The Yingyue Sword suddenly appeared, stabbing straight for Xiao Jinchén’s forehead.

Xiao Jinchén frantically released his grip, twisting sideways and barely dodging the lethal strike.

Amid the crowd’s gasps, the Yingyue Sword returned to the palm of Lü Fang’s book spirit, Yan Chixia.

“You’ve gone too far!”

Lü Fang frowned.

He hadn’t expected Xiao Jinchén to commit violence inside Wenyuan Academy—he reacted too late.

“Is that a book spirit?”

“Heavens—who is this man? I’ve never heard of him. His ‘presence’ is only Eighth Rank First Tier—how did he even manifest a book spirit?”

“No one in the Imperial Capital matches this description—he must be new here. Otherwise, knowing Xiao Jinchén’s status, he’d never have dared strike.”

The watching students looked at Lü Fang with complex expressions.

“You dared attack me!”

Xiao Jinchén’s eyes burned red as he glared at Lü Fang.

“You attacked first—why shouldn’t I strike back?”

Lü Fang sneered.

He had just reached Eighth Rank First Tier; his book spirit Yan Chixia had also risen to Seventh Rank First Tier, its power greatly enhanced.

Xiao Jinchén’s “presence” was Eighth Rank Third Tier—no match for him. In truth, Xiao Jinchén had no personal grudge against him; even his arrogance didn’t deserve death.

Had Lü Fang not held back that sword strike just now, Xiao Jinchén would already be a corpse.

“If you have a grievance with Chen Ji, take it to the Supervising Office for justice. If you think you can crush others with your status, ask my sword if it agrees!”

Lü Fang ignored Xiao Jinchén’s venomous glare and turned to Chen Ji, whose left arm hung limp:

“Is your arm alright?”

“It’s nothing—just dislocated.”

Chen Ji gritted his teeth and shoved his shoulder back into place, forcing a weak smile:

“Lü Brother, I don’t admire many people—you’re one of them. I’ll remember this favor. But the rest of this? Don’t trouble yourself. Xiao Jinchén is the grandson of the Three Excellencies; it’s not worth risking your future for me.”

“By the way—next time, don’t call the ‘Demon-Sweeping Verses’ again, or I still won’t give you a good look!”

No sooner had Chen Ji finished than his expression changed drastically: “Watch out!”

Creak… creak…

Frost spread outward from Xiao Jinchén, coating the white stone floor—and Lü Fang’s entire body visibly froze over.

“Water reflects like a mirror; snow swept away becomes jade dust.”

As Xiao Jinchén shouted the verse, he conjured an ice blade, advancing toward Lü Fang with a mad grin:

“An Eighth Rank First Tier Confucian like you doesn’t even warrant my hand—but unless I chop you into ice shards myself, my rage won’t be sated!”

Xiao Jinchén swung the ice blade at Lü Fang.

“Ten Thousand Swords Art · Hundred Swords!” The book spirit Yan Chixia, his body still encased in ice, broke free with solemn expression and formed a sword seal.

In his palm, the Yingyue Sword instantly split into a hundred blades of light, piercing straight toward Xiao Jinchén’s chest.

Xiao Jinchén’s eyes widened in shock—he raised his ice blade to block.

Crack! The ice blade shattered effortlessly; then his protective righteous qi was pierced through.

Bing! Bing! Bing! Bing!

At the critical moment, a golden sheet of paper appeared on Xiao Jinchén’s chest, halting the hundred blades.

The blades vanished; the golden paper shattered.

Xiao Jinchén had summoned a subpar Master-level ink treasure to block the assault—but the sheer force still flung him backward.

Puff!

Xiao Jinchén crashed to the ground, spitting blood, his face pale and his spirit broken.

He was badly wounded—but alive!

“His ‘presence’ is Eighth Rank First Tier—his book spirit should be roughly the same level. How could a single strike from a book spirit nearly kill Eighth Rank Third Tier Xiao Jinchén?”

“Is the gap really that wide?”

“Is this man insane? He truly meant to kill Xiao Jinchén—if not for that half-finished Master-level ink treasure, he’d be dead!”

The Confucian scholars stared at each other, unable to believe what they’d seen—it was nothing like what they’d expected.