"Senior brother is truly senior brother." Ling Chuan sighed, full of admiration.
"What rank is Senior Zhu now?" Jiang Chen asked.
"I haven't seen him for a while." Zhang Yuan sighed for no clear reason. "He's probably broken through the Gate of Heaven and Earth by now..."
"Then he's not far from you, Senior Zhang — about equal! I still back you as the Academy's number one!" Huang Azhan was relentless in his bootlicking.
Everyone knew Zhang Yuan had seen the Gate of Heaven and Earth long ago, one step from the sixth-rank Soaring Dragon realm. So "not far" was not exactly wrong, but—
Zhang Yuan gave Huang Azhan a strange look and edged two steps further away.
Zhu Weiwo might be newly entered at the sixth rank, but he was out there hunting the Heart-Devouring Demon across the world! Was that an ordinary new sixth-rank?
Zhao Yan and Jiang Chen exchanged a glance and, in perfect tacit agreement, shuffled away too.
"Hey, hey — what's with you people?" Huang Azhan protested.
Zhao Yan sighed. "So that's how Du Hu got stupider and stupider."
Jiang Chen looked up at the sky. "Perhaps stupidity is contagious..."
By then Dean Dong had reached the last first-year slot: "By custom, each academy gives one spot in the first-year trial to its newest students, to show that every generation brings forth its talents..."
Below the platform, Fang Lin's fists clenched!
Of his cohort, only he and Jiang Chen had opened their meridians first. Months had passed; other students had since completed meridian opening, but he was the only one to finish his foundation.
He stood alone at the top!
If anyone could represent the new blood of the Maple City Academy, who but him?
This was an honor — one that would wash away the doubts over his father buying him a Meridian-Opening Pill against all advice.
He, Fang Lin, was going to—
"Jiang Chen." Dean Dong said.
A stir ran through the crowd. Jiang Chen — first of the outer students into the inner academy, winner of a Dao-Witnessed Deathmatch in front of everyone — his name was familiar to the whole academy. That he had lingered so long before founding was also widely known, thanks to certain people fanning the flames.
Gifted no more, a late bloomer spent — that was all they said, round and round.
And in Dean Dong's eyes, he represented the strongest of the new students?
"Dean!" Fang Lin stepped out in fury. Under Dean Dong's cold gaze he felt as if doused with ice water, trembling with dread — but he stiffened his neck anyway. "I... I object!"
"Ha." Wei Lin laughed. He enjoyed seeing Dong challenged, though he trusted the Dean's judgment not to err.
"Simple." Wei Lin said. "Get up on the platform. Fight. Winner goes."
Fang Lin realized only after the words left his mouth how stupid he was. No matter what, he could not and should not challenge Dean Dong here — a man who could decide his future with a word.
His heels trembled, but he held himself up and met the Dean's eyes. He was on a tiger's back now; there was no getting off.
Luckily, Dean Dong seemed unwilling to make things hard for him, nor to snub Wei Lin's face.
"Fine." He said.
Fang Lin breathed out, straightened his back as tall as he could, and walked toward the platform under everyone's eyes.
He would crush his opponent with flawless technique. He would prove he did this not for himself, but for the name of the Maple City Academy. How could the Three-City Trial send out someone who had not even founded?
He felt the crowd's gaze on him — surprise, envy, jealousy, wariness.
Walking the path they cleared, he suddenly wondered: when his cousin Fang Heng had his glory days, was this how it felt?
Fang Heng had died before even entering the inner academy. And he, Fang Lin, was already a proper inner student!
Then he heard Jiang Chen's voice.
Through the whole affair, Jiang Chen had been utterly calm, as if none of it concerned him.
Only after Dean Dong agreed to settle it by combat did he raise his eyes and ask, lightly, "Can I hurt him?"
*Can I hurt him?* — asking whether the rules allowed it, not whether he was able.
Fang Lin's lungs were about to burst with rage!
Dean Dong's face was expressionless. "No crippling. No killing."
Meaning: anything else was permitted.
On the platform stood Wei Lin, Dean Dong, and behind them several city officials and academy instructors. They all stepped back to the platform's edge, clearing room for the fight.
Jiang Chen nodded, one hand on his sword scabbard, and walked calmly up.
Fang Lin, already standing there, stared at him with nails-for-eyes.
"Don't worry. Same academy, same brothers — I won't cripple you." Fang Lin gritted out.
Everyone waited for Jiang Chen's retort. Jiang Chen said nothing.
The two stood on the platform, face to face.
The scene reminded many of the Dao-Witnessed Deathmatch months ago — one fighter the same Jiang Chen, the other surnamed Fang again.
Wei Lin had been in high spirits, but watching Fang Lin's trembling eagerness against Jiang Chen's unhurried calm, he suddenly lost interest.
A fledgling who had never fought for his life, against a cultivator who had weathered who knows how many battles. What suspense was there, even with a slight gap in rank?
"Begin." He waved a hand, bored.
*Shing!*
The sword screamed from its sheath!
Before the fight, Fang Lin had imagined many openers, weighed which technique would serve him best. He was no fool; he knew his one advantage over Jiang Chen was technique. He could use Dao arts, and Jiang Chen could not. That was his chance to win.
But the sword was too fast.
The art Fang Lin had settled on was the Flame Blade, the most violent of the five-element basics, and the one he knew best. To keep his lead, to silence the doubts at home, he had never slacked. Now he could form the hand seal in three breaths.
But the sword was too fast.
Two breaths? One? He had barely begun his seal when the blade was already at his throat, its edge stinging his skin, his veins.
It was over?
What kind of sword art was this!
Jiang Chen turned the blade and slapped Fang Lin's cheek lightly with the flat, snapping him out of his daze.
"You lost." Jiang Chen said.
Fang Lin stood bewildered. How? How?! He had not even cast a single Dao art!
If, if, if — if he had finished his minor cycle and branded the Flame Blade into his Celestial Palace, he could cast it instantly. Then he would never have failed to get a move out!
If...
He jerked his head up, teeth clenched. "You definitely drove your sword with Dao essence! You haven't even founded — every bit of essence costs you, and you'd spend it on a spar, delaying your foundation. How generous of you!"
Jiang Chen sheathed his sword and walked off the platform. As with every provocation from Fang Lin before, he did not bother to respond. An ant blocking the road could not make itself heard by a man.
"You'll never found!" Fang Lin screamed at his back.
"Get off! Shameful thing!" Dean Dong's sleeve swept, and Fang Lin truly rolled off the platform.
He picked himself up and looked around — all he saw were looks of pity and contempt.
He stood frozen a moment, then let out a great roar and staggered away.