The Blade-Wielding Legend

Chapter 1431 737: The Torrent Approaches

The heavy sound of hooves approached from afar.

Supervisor Yuan Feng and Yan Jiuling hurriedly tidied their garments. Together with all the students of the academy's two disciplines, Ge-wu and Mystical Craft, they gathered in droves before the academy's freshly painted vermilion gate symbolizing "investigation of things leads to knowledge."

Sunlight pierced through the clouds, landing precisely on the newly laid red carpet in front of the gate.

Yuan Feng wore a brand-new fifth rank green round-collared robe with a crane patch, while Yan Jiuling surprisingly donned a dark blue silk Confucian Scholar's outfit.

Everyone held their breath, eyes focused on the carriage gradually approaching from the distance.

It was not the imperial gift of bright yellow but a low-key yet finely crafted rosewood four-man sedan chair, surrounded by over a dozen personal attendants clad in brown shirts, exuding calm and toughness.

The sedan chair came to a steady halt at the main entrance of the academy.

Before Yuan Feng and the others could step forward to exchange greetings, an attendant deftly drew back the curtain of the sedan chair.

A red palace boot embroidered with a golden python stepped out, followed by a figure dressed in the same scarlet robe with embroidered gold pythons, topped with a three-peak hat.

It was none other than Zhao Wujiong, the Chief Eunuch from Ritual Supervision.

He was as always, his face gaunt, hair withered, dotted with age spots, appearing all but at death's door, devoid of the rumored fleshly evil Qi of a powerful eunuch.

Only a pair of long, narrow eyes swept over everyone with a sharpness seemingly capable of seeing through one's innermost parts.

"Greetings, Mr. Zhao!"

Led by Yuan Feng, everyone bowed uniformly, showing respect.

Zhao Wujiong stepped out of the sedan chair, his gaze sweeping slowly over the grand reception — from the orderly students holding their breath, to the principal figures bowing, and down to the fresh red carpet.

His serene face showed no emotional fluctuation, but he lightly raised his hand, the gesture understated yet laden with undeniable authority.

"What is the meaning of this, gentlemen?"

Zhao Wujiong's voice was not loud, hoarse with age, yet it penetrated the silent air clearly, "I am merely His Majesty's old servant, passing by the academy on assignment, stopping to look around. Such a grand scene truly overwhelms this old servant."

"This old servant cannot bear such honor."

His last few words carried an almost imperceptible irony, his gaze landing on the sweating forehead of Yuan Feng and the forced calm face of Yan Jiuling.

The smiles plastered on Yuan Feng and Yan Jiuling's faces froze instantly, the flattery they had prepared stuck hard in their throats.

Truth be told, they were frustrated.

The academy had painstakingly come into being, was already a whirlwind of activity. They thought that after the grand opening and enrollment ended, they could work in peace and start running the academy smoothly.

Who would've thought Zhao Wujiong would arrive within just two days?

His fierce reputation was known throughout the court; they would not dare to neglect him.

Seeing them silent as cold cicadas, Zhao Wujiong slightly shook his head and said, "You two gentlemen are honest men, court matters are filthy, you need not bother, as long as we all serve His Majesty, I won't allow others to trouble you."

Supervisor Yuan Feng breathed a sigh of relief, turned sideways, and gestured, "Please, Mr. Zhao."

Everyone arrived at the central square in the "Heavenly Circle and Earthly Square" arrangement, Zhao Wujiong walked a few steps forward, his gaze swept over the surrounding large halls, finally resting on the towering Divine Statue, the corner of his mouth curled in satisfaction:

"'True Monarch of Fire and Water'... a fine thing indeed. His Majesty has recently often mentioned this new academy's consecrated 'new god' to this old servant."

"Supervisor Yuan and Mr. Yan, could we borrow a tranquil place for a cup of tea? This old servant has some small questions I'd like to seek your advice on."

He spoke politely, yet the hidden pressure and the word "His Majesty" behind it instantly tautened the strings in Yuan Feng and Yan Jiuling's hearts.

"Please, Mr. Zhao."

They all gathered in the side hall and sat down.

After the attendant served tea, Yuan Feng cautiously cupped his hands and asked, "Mr. Zhao, has His Majesty imparted any instructions?"

"No rush."

Zhao Wujiong calmly sipped his tea, "I hear Young Hero Li from the Twelve Primordial Spirits is also at the academy, why not invite him here and speak together later."

Yuan Feng and Yan Jiuling exchanged confused glances, unaware of the purpose for summoning Li Yan, but since Zhao Wujiong had spoken, they could only comply.

Li Yan paused abruptly upon entering the side hall.

He could sense a certain threat.

There was not the slightest killing intent, yet it felt like stepping into a tiger's den, sending chills down his spine.

Looking up, he saw sunlight passing through the carved lattice window, casting a pattern of light and shadow on the smooth golden brick floor.

Supervisor Yuan Feng and Yan Jiuling sat at opposite sides, their respectful demeanor laced with an almost imperceptible tension.

And the Chief Eunuch Zhao Wujiong, clad in a scarlet robe embroidered with gold pythons, stood with his back to the entrance, hands behind his back, quietly gazing at the painting of "Laozi Leaving the Han Valley Pass" hanging on the wall.

At the sound of footsteps, Zhao Wujiong slowly turned around.

That shriveled face resembling old tree bark, covered with dark brown age spots, yet his pair of eyes were sharp as if honed with icy obsidian blades, precisely falling upon Li Yan.

The lack of oppressive momentum unleashed, yet it made Li Yan palpably tense.

This old eunuch... unfathomable!

Li Yan's alarm went off instantly.

As a living Yin messenger, he was more sensitive to mood than ordinary cultivators.

The Zhao Wujiong before him gave an extremely bizarre feeling.

Outwardly an elder near death, his energy and blood waning, yet within that emaciated shell contained a "spirit" as solid as a towering peak, bearing a cold determination forged through countless gory battles, stepping over heaps of bones.

More peculiarly, outside that restrained "spirit," there subtly lingered a kind of... nonhuman, exceedingly thin yet profoundly deep sense of "void" and "cold."