"Are you still going? Won't you get hurt again?"
After downing his morning herbal decoction, Zhao Xunan prepared to head out. Zhao Ping'er frowned deeply, her brow furrowed like a washboard.
Seeing her worry, Zhao Xunan quickly shook his head with a smile. "Just going to take a look. If Phoenix's there, I'll turn around and leave."
"Good. Your health matters most—no need to tangle with that madwoman."
Zhao Xunan's smile widened at her words. Ping'er's getting bolder by the day, he thought. Even calling the Imperial Preceptor a "madwoman" now.
Mounting his spotted horse, Zhao Xunan rode out of Yujing's main city gates. It took an hour to reach the northern outskirts, where the meandering Luo River stretched into the distance.
Unlike the academies within the city, the Martial Arts Academy sat by the riverbank. Zhao Xunan recalled reading poems from ancient times that praised the Luo River's bustling past—but millennia had passed, and those idyllic scenes had long since faded, leaving only crumbling ruins to whisper of their glory.
Shortly after leaving the city, the path vanished, swallowed by waist-high wild grass. Zhao Xunan tugged at his horse's reins, leading it carefully to avoid hidden mud pits.
An hour later, he stood atop a red-gray earthen ruin, glimpsing a sprawling complex in the distance. As he drew closer, the buildings came into focus: pavilions, terraces, and halls, half-white and half-black, striking an odd yet somehow harmonious chord.
Approaching the antique gate, Zhao Xunan squinted upward. The south-facing structure followed ancient architectural styles, its layout and carvings steeped in antiquity.
Step by step, he mused, even time can't erase its grandeur.
Passing through the Jixian Gate, Chijing Gate, Taixue Gate, and the glazed archway, he finally reached a cluster of dense buildings. The massive "Lun Tang" (Hall of Deliberation) sign made him pause. This isn't a martial arts school—it's an ancient imperial academy!
"…Tuzi's unreliable as always," Zhao Xunan muttered, shaking his head. Retracing his steps, he nearly missed the black section of the academy hidden behind overgrown reeds.
Swinging his sword to cut through the waist-thick reeds, a vast expanse of pitch-black buildings emerged. Even under the harsh sun, they felt oppressive, as if sucking the light from the air.
As Zhao Xunan wandered among the black structures, Phoenix's carriage arrived at the main gate. The driver tried to charge in, but Hongting blocked the way.
"Your Majesty, this place has strict rules. Only one pass is allowed—you must enter alone," Hongting said, bowing respectfully.
Phoenix snatched the black pass and stormed in, Hongting calling after her, "Beware, Your Majesty—this academy is no ordinary place!"
Phoenix waved her off and vanished inside.
"Is this the Martial Arts Academy?" Zhao Xunan muttered, eyeing the black buildings. "It feels more like a scholarly temple."
His thoughts echoed Phoenix's. But before he reached Lun Tang, a hoarse voice halted him.
"Who dares trespass into the Martial Arts Academy? Are you here to steal ancient texts?!"
Zhao Xunan turned to see a gaunt old Taoist, his blue robe patched and frayed, grass sandals split, and hair disheveled. Yet despite his shabby appearance, there was an air of unyielding purity about him—uncleanable, almost.
"Are you the gatekeeper?" Zhao Xunan asked, surprised by the old man's unexpected tidiness.
"Something like that. What brings you here? Stealing from the library?" The old Taoist's lips twitched, drawing a rusted iron sword from his back.
The sword, covered in dents and rust, looked ready to snap at any moment. Zhao Xunan's irritation flared. How dare this beggar mock me?
Taking a deep breath, he tossed the black pass at the old man. "This is my credential. As the Imperial Preceptor of Great Qin, I'll have whatever texts I want. This rotting academy probably has nothing but moldy scrolls anyway!"
The old Taoist inspected the pass, then snorted. "A brat like you as Imperial Preceptor? The court's gone mad." He tossed the pass back. "The pass is real, but I don't like you. Leave before you defile this sacred ground."
Phoenix's eyes narrowed. "Why did that man get in without a pass, but I'm barred?"
"Because he's clean," the old Taoist said, gesturing at Phoenix. "You're filth—best leave before you stain this holy land."
"Insolent!" Phoenix roared, drawing Green Phoenix. The sword hummed, its blade slicing toward the old man's brow.
But the iron sword intercepted it mid-air, striking Green Phoenix's spine with impossible force.
Boom!
Green Phoenix bent like a crescent moon. Phoenix was hurled backward, blood gushing from her mouth.
"Old wretch, die!" Enraged, Phoenix spat blood, her finger glowing as she chanted, "Thunderbolts, fall!"
The sky darkened instantly. Dozens of dragon-shaped thunderbolts crashed toward the old Taoist.
"Pah. A caged celestial bird—impressive, but not enough," the old Taoist scoffed, flicking his iron sword.
"Great Thunder Deity, dispel calamity!"
The thunderbolts shattered mid-fall, dissolving into gentle breezes. Phoenix's eyes widened—her signature attack, neutralized so easily?
Before she could react, the old Taoist's sleeve swept toward her. A palm struck her brow, and she flew backward, crashing into an ancient tree.
"Y-you… Mo Wentian?!" Phoenix panted, blood streaming from her split brow.
The name left her lips before she even processed it. Mo Wentian—the Dao Palace's Grand Elder, the only one who could wield such celestial power.
From the commotion, Zhao Xunan emerged, staring in shock. Yesterday, she'd beaten me senseless. Today, the tables turn.
Mo Wentian turned to Zhao Xunan, grinning. "At last—a worthy successor. Sixty years I've waited—this is heavenly!"
He pressed a yin-yang talisman into Zhao Xunan's hand. "From this day, you are the Martial Arts Academy's Head. Protect this sanctuary well!"
Before Zhao Xunan could protest, Mo Wentian turned and fled, scrambling over walls like a thief.
"Where are you going?!" Zhao Xunan yelled.
"Escaping that brat's wrath. Without my powers, she'd kill me!"
He tossed a manual at Zhao Xunan's face. "Learn these techniques—you'll be as free as me!"
Zhao Xunan caught the manual, its cover emblazoned with Celestial Decree. Flipping through it, he found arcane spells beyond anything he'd seen. With this, I can finally master long-range attacks!
"Wait—you're the Martial Arts Academy Head?!" Song Tuzi popped out of nowhere, gaping at the talisman.
"Since when?!" Zhao Xunan laughed.
"Tch. I came for a wife, not classes. Who cares about the academy?" Song Tuzi shrugged, flipping the talisman. "My dad just told me—the Martial Arts Academy's Head isn't just a title. It's a government post, rank 2nd Grade Pure. Only six ministers outrank it!"
Zhao Xunan's head spun. I'm the Head of the Martial Arts Academy? This is a dream.
"But I came to apply as a teacher—how'd I become Head?!"
"Idiot. Being Head beats being a teacher. You set the grades—you can give yourself top marks!" Song Tuzi grinned. "Plus, with Mo Wentian's techniques? You've hit the jackpot!"
As Zhao Xunan digested this, Song Tuzi continued, "Mo Wentian's a legend. Three hundred years old, undefeated in battle. Sixty years ago, he challenged the then-Head to a fight, lost, and became Head by default."
Zhao Xunan stared at the retreating figure of Mo Wentian, then at the talisman in his hand. A new path… and a new title. This is just the beginning.