"Eldest Senior Brother is Eldest Senior Brother, after all." Ling He sighed, feeling as though he were looking up a mountain so high he could hardly see its peak.
"So what cultivation grade is Senior Brother Zhu now?" Jiang Wang asked again.
"It's been a while since I've seen him too." Zhang Linchuan let out a strange sigh. "By now he must have already broken through the Heaven-Earth Gate..."
"That's not so far behind you, Senior Brother, is it? You two are roughly on equal footing! For first place in the City Dao Academy, I'm still rooting for you, Senior Brother Zhang!" Huang Azhan was doggedly determined to grovel.
Everyone knew that Zhang Linchuan had glimpsed the Heaven-Earth Gate long ago, and that the distance from sixth grade was but a single step across the threshold. So saying they were "not so different" was not unreasonable... except that—
Zhang Linchuan shot Huang Azhan a most peculiar look, then edged two steps further away.
Zhu Weiwo might only have just entered the sixth grade, but he was running across the whole world hunting down the Swallow-Heart Human Demon! Could that be the same as an ordinary fresh sixth-grade cultivator?
Zhao Rucheng and Jiang Wang exchanged a look, and with perfect accord shuffled off in another direction.
"Hey, hey, hey, what do you two mean by that?" Huang Azhan shouted.
Zhao Rucheng sighed. "Now we finally understand why Tiger Du keeps getting dumber and dumber."
Jiang Wang also raised his eyes to the sky. "Perhaps stupidity is contagious..."
At that moment Dong A read out the last name in the first-year quota. "Following established custom, in this year's Dao-discussion tournament, every Dao Academy must set aside one slot for its newest cohort of disciples, to show that each generation brings forth its own talents..."
Down below the platform, Fang Heling clenched his fist without warning!
Among the cohort he had entered with, only he and Jiang Wang had been the first to open their Dao meridians. Several months had since passed, and other students had completed their meridians as well, but the only one who had already finished Establishing the Foundation was Fang Heling himself.
He could truly claim to be the best of his cohort!
If anyone was to represent the level of the newest disciples of Fenglin City's Dao Academy, who could push past him?
This was an honor! More than enough to wash away the doubts that had followed his father's decision to disregard everyone's objections and buy him a Meridian-Opening Pill.
He, Fang Heling, absolutely must—
"Jiang Wang," Dong A said.
The crowd below stirred. As one who had risen to the Inner Court as the first of the Outer Court, and who had won decisively in the Dao-Tested Death Duel before all those assembled, Jiang Wang's name was no stranger to the City Dao Academy. As for the fact that he had lingered so long without Establishing the Foundation, it had been spread far and wide with no small amount of behind-the-scenes prodding.
Talk of his talent burning out, of running out of steam — round and round, all of it came back to this one business.
And in the eyes of the academy head, Dong A, he was to represent the strongest level of the new disciples?
"Headmaster!" Fang Heling stepped forward in fury. Meeting Dong A's cold and stern gaze was like a bucket of ice water being dashed over his head, filling him with dread, but he soon stiffened his neck anyway. "I... I do not accept this!"
"Hah." Wei Quji laughed. He was delighted to see Dong A challenged, though he trusted that the man's judgment could not possibly go wrong.
"That's simple." Wei Quji said. "Step up onto the platform. Fight it out. Whoever wins, goes."
Only after the words left his mouth did Fang Heling realize how foolish he had been. Whatever the case, he neither could nor should question Dong A on such an occasion — question a great man who could decide his future with a shrug.
Fang Heling felt his heels trembling, yet he still held on by sheer force of will, staring at Dong A. He was already riding the tiger; there was no climbing down now.
Fortunately, Dong A seemed to have no mind to make things hard for him, nor to slap down Wei Quji's face.
"Very well," was all he said.
Fang Heling breathed a sigh of relief, straightened his back as best he could, and made his way toward the high platform under the crowd's gaze.
He would crush his opponent with practiced manipulations of Dao arts. He would prove he was not fighting for himself, but for the good name of all of Fenglin City's Dao Academy. How could the solemn Three-City Martial Tournament send out a man who had not even Established his Foundation?
He felt the eyes upon him — awe and envy, jealousy and solemn regard alike.
Walking along the path the crowd had opened for him, he suddenly thought: when my cousin Fang Pengju was at his pinnacle, did he feel this way too?
And Fang Pengju had died before even entering the Inner Court, while he, Fang Heling, was already a proper Inner Court disciple!
Then he heard Jiang Wang's voice.
Throughout the entire matter, from its start to its evolution, Jiang Wang had been utterly calm — calm as though it had nothing whatsoever to do with him.
Only after Dong A agreed to settle the matter by combat did he lift his gaze and ask, almost carelessly: "Can I hurt him?"
"Can I hurt him?" was a question about whether the rules permitted it, not whether he was able to.
Fang Heling was so angry his lungs felt like they might explode!
Dong A's face betrayed nothing. He only said: "No crippling. No killing."
Which meant that aside from those two things, anything was permitted.
Standing on the high platform were Wei Quji, Dong A, and behind them a few of Fenglin City's officials and the academy's instructors. At this, they all fell back several steps, standing at the edge of the platform, making space for the fight.
Jiang Wang nodded, his hand resting on the scabbard of his sword, and walked unhurriedly toward the platform.
And Fang Heling, already standing on the platform, fixed him with a gaze like a driven nail.
"Rest easy. We are fellow disciples — I won't cripple you." Fang Heling ground out through his teeth.
The crowd expected Jiang Wang to return with the fiercest words, yet Jiang Wang remained silent.
The two took their places on the platform, facing each other.
The sight put many in mind of the Dao-Tested Death Duel months ago — one of its participants had been Jiang Wang, and the other had also borne the surname Fang.
Wei Quji had warmed to the spectacle at first, but after taking note of Fang Heling's agitation and haste, and then looking once more at Jiang Wang's unbroken composure from start to finish, he suddenly lost all interest.
One was a raw greenhorn who had obviously never fought for his life; the other was a cultivator who had weathered untold battles. Even if their grades differed by a little, what suspense could there possibly be in it?
"Begin." He waved a hand, bored.
Slash!
It was the screaming of a long sword leaving its sheath!
For the fight Fang Heling had imagined many ways to begin, weighing which Dao art would open most advantageously. He was no fool; he knew his greatest advantage over Jiang Wang lay precisely in Dao arts. He could employ Dao arts, and Jiang Wang could not — that was his opening to victory.
Yet the sword was too fast.
The Dao art Fang Heling had ultimately chosen was the Flame Saber, the most explosive of the Five Elements basic arts, and the one he commanded most fluently.
To keep his lead, to wash away the doubts within his clan, he had never slackened; he had always been working hard.
By now he could even complete his hand-seal in three breaths!
But that sword was too fast.
Two breaths? Or one? In short, his hand-seal had only just begun when the blade was already flat across his throat. The keen edge faintly stung the skin and blood vessels of his neck.
It was over?
What manner of sword art was this!
Jiang Wang turned the blade aside and, with the flat of the sword, lightly slapped Fang Heling across the cheek, snapping him out of his daze.
"You lost," Jiang Wang said.
Fang Heling was bewildered, lost. How, how could this be? He had not even had the chance to unleash a single Dao art!
If only — if only — had he been given a little more time, until he completed the minor Zhou Heavenly circulation and engraved the Flame Saber into his Heaven-Access Palace, he could have cast it in an instant. Then he would never have failed to get a hand off!
If only...
He snapped his head up and bit off through his teeth: "You surely drove your sword art with Dao essence! You haven't even Established your Foundation; each Dao essence you spend is one fewer. And yet, for the sake of a little contest like this, you'd willingly delay Establishing your Foundation. What a darling you are!"
Jiang Wang sheathed his sword and turned to walk off the platform, exactly as he had every time Fang Heling had provoked him before — too lazy to answer, refusing to deign to notice.
An ant standing in the middle of the road to provoke, while a human could not hear its voice at all.
"You'll never Establish your Foundation in a hundred years!" Fang Heling shouted after his back.
"Get off! Shameful, disgraceful thing!" Dong A flicked his great sleeve, and Fang Heling truly tumbled bodily off the platform.
He scrambled to his feet and looked around — all he saw were eyes filled with sympathy or contempt.
He stood dumbstruck for a moment, then suddenly let out a great roar and lurched away, fleeing the place.