Chapter 89

The knight was in his twenties, with delicate features that exuded a cold and noble air. As he spoke, his gaze was fixed on the dilapidated gate of the National Teaching Academy, seemingly ignoring the hurried arrival of Chen Changsheng and his two companions, appearing extremely proud.

Chen Changsheng and his two companions had come in a rush. Tang Sanshi had hastily tied up his hair, and upon seeing the scene before him, he was momentarily stunned. When he heard the knight's words, his eyes narrowed, and after a glance, he turned and walked into the National Teaching Academy without a word.

Xuan Yuanpo did not look at the knights; instead, he focused on the dying warhorse lying in the puddle. As a young demon, he recovered from injuries very quickly. His right arm still needed treatment from Chen Changsheng, but his left leg had already healed, and he no longer needed a cane. He slowly walked over to the horse.

Chen Changsheng stood alone at the gate of the National Teaching Academy, looking at the knights and the cold, proud young noble.

Breaking through the gate with a cart was the most violent method. It was rarely used unless there was an irreconcilable grudge. Chen Changsheng did not recognize the young noble, but he could guess why he had come. He slowly clenched his fists, then remembered that he had left his short sword in the small building.

Xuan Yuanpo squatted down in front of the warhorse, looking at the once-mighty horse now lying in the rain, barely alive, and at the blood foam coming from its lips. The young demon's eyes gradually turned cold.

The rain continued to fall, and the raindrops landing on the horse's body made it seem even colder. Xuan Yuanpo lowered his head, touching the horse's gradually cooling body. He extended his right hand, placed it on the horse's neck, and applied a slight force.

There was a muffled crack, and the rain continued to fall. The horse closed its eyes, finding its release.

Xuan Yuanpo stood up and looked at the young noble on the horse, saying, "To break our gate, you could use stones or tree trunks. Why did you have to use a cart? Just because you think it makes you look strong? No, it only makes you look more despicable."

The young noble ignored him, as the young demon, though involved in the matter, was not his main target for the day. He looked down at Chen Changsheng with a cold expression and said, "You are Chen Changsheng?"

Chen Changsheng did not answer, as a gust of wind swept past him.

The wind cut through the light rain that had accompanied the morning light, heading towards the group of knights outside the gate.

The person was Tang Sanshi. He had left his sword in the small building, just like Chen Changsheng. Seeing the scene at the gate, he did not say a word but returned to the National Teaching Academy, not out of fear or to seek help, but to retrieve his sword.

With the sword in hand, one could fight the enemy.

Without a word, Tang Sanshi, holding his sword, rushed out of the National Teaching Academy and charged towards the young noble and the group of knights without hesitation.

The Wen River Sword glinted with cold light, and in the dim morning rain, a sun suddenly appeared, its red rays spreading out, not warm but filled with a sense of killing intent.

The gate, already damaged, was a sight that provoked great anger.

Tang Sanshi was very angry, and his first move was the most powerful of the Wen River Three Strokes.

In the dim morning rain, the gate suddenly became as bright as noon.

The young noble's eyebrows twitched, and his mount moved back a few steps.

Two knights appeared in front of him, flipping their wrists to reveal two long iron spears, which they used to meet Tang Sanshi's sword.

Only the strongest of the Northern Army of the Great Zhou would be equipped with such iron spears.

Seeing the iron spears break through the rain, Tang Sanshi knew that these dozen or so knights, who looked like young nobles from the capital, were actually skilled warriors returning from the north. However, he did not care. The Wen River Sword, filled with a blood-red killing intent, continued to advance.

As the sword cut through the rain, it hissed and turned into white smoke.

Two deafening sounds echoed in the morning rain.

Clang, clang.

The two iron spears broke into four pieces, flying deep into the rain, landing heavily on the ground, splashing water, breaking the stone slabs, and damaging the outer wall of a nearby building. The broken ends of the iron spears were faintly red, and the rain that fell on them instantly evaporated.

The two knights grunted and were knocked off their mounts, lying in the rain with clear sword marks on their chests, blood gushing out.

This was the true power of the Wen River Three Strokes: Sunset.

The night before, in the battle in front of the Weiyang Palace with Qijian, the fight was about winning, not killing, and with Chen Changsheng's guidance, Tang Sanshi had been somewhat restrained. This morning, however, he was driven by anger and unleashed his full strength.

Of course, the two knights were strong warriors of the Great Zhou's Northern Army. Tang Sanshi, in his rage, had cut through their iron spears and knocked them into the rain, but he had also paid a price. His hastily tied hair came loose, his black hair fell over his shoulders, and his face turned slightly pale.

He held the Wen River Sword, standing in the rain, looking at the group with an extremely proud expression, showing no signs of injury.

In that instant, he had raised his true essence to its peak, his meridians filled with a flow like lava, and the Wen River Sword had just created a sun. The rain falling on his black hair, his body, and the sword turned into white smoke.

He seemed to be standing in a cloud of smoke.

The young noble looked at Tang Sanshi, guessing who he was, and his eyes slowly narrowed, like willow leaves, his gaze becoming even sharper. His cold words, coming from his thin, emotionless lips, became even sharper: "What a bold move, to actually dare to..."

He did not finish his sentence because Tang Sanshi shouted, "What are you waiting for? Don't let him finish."

As he said this, Xuan Yuanpo had already lifted a corner of a large wooden board from the rain.

The gate of the National Teaching Academy had been built many years ago and had not been replaced during the recent repairs by the Church's Central Office because it was still sturdy. The gate was about two people tall and about two palms thick. If not for the warhorse and cart crashing into it with its life, it would have been very difficult to break.

The gate was now broken, and Xuan Yuanpo was lifting a piece of the broken gate, still about two people tall and two palms thick, which looked like a small mountain when stood up.

Even a thoroughly cleansed cultivator would find it difficult to lift this piece of the gate with their own strength.

Xuan Yuanpo's right arm was injured, but his left arm could still exert force. With the strength of his demon bloodline, he managed to lift the board.

Several knights noticed his action and moved closer to ensure the young noble's safety.

At this moment, Tang Sanshi finished his sentence.

Xuan Yuanpo roared and, with his single arm, lifted the gate piece like a small mountain and threw it at the young noble.

A terrifying boom echoed in the morning rain, and a cloud of dust rose.

The ground in front of the National Teaching Academy trembled, and the rainwater seemed to jump up.

Two grunts.

Two knights turned into black shadows, flying deep into the rain and landing heavily on the ground.

They still held their iron spears, but the spears were now bent.

The young noble's mount quickly moved aside, and he was not hit by Xuan Yuanpo. However, he was splashed with mud and dust, and his previously cold and composed expression could no longer be maintained.

His face turned pale, and his right hand, holding the reins, trembled slightly.

It was not out of fear but out of anger.

His gaze fell on the three young men outside the gate of the National Teaching Academy.

Tang Sanshi, holding his sword, standing in the smoke.

Xuan Yuanpo, holding the gate piece, standing in the rain.

Chen Changsheng, standing under the broken gate, not having moved, and his clothes barely wet.

He was really angry.

He had paid the price of a warhorse to break the gate of this dilapidated academy, thinking it was a strong and fitting action for his noble and powerful identity. He had planned to scold and intimidate the people inside and then unleash his anger.

However, he did not even get to finish a complete sentence before four of his subordinates were severely injured.

He had broken the gate of the National Teaching Academy, but the other side had carried the broken gate and made him look so miserable.

The momentum of his attack, which had been strong in the morning rain, was now severely dampened, making him very uncomfortable and very angry.

Everyone in the capital knew that when he was angry, the consequences would be terrifying.

Even Zhou Tong would remain silent when he was in a rage.

He looked at the three young men in the rain as if they were already dead.

"Very good, very good..."

The young noble, in his extreme anger, laughed, his pale cheeks turning a sickly red, looking unhealthy and somewhat sinister.

Before the young noble could speak again, Tang Sanshi said to Chen Changsheng, "When he speaks, don't let him finish."

Xuan Yuanpo also looked at Chen Changsheng; they had already taken action, and now it was his turn.

Chen Changsheng looked at him, confused, and asked, "Why?"

"Don't give him a chance to unleash his anger. Suffocate him."

"Like the plan you had at the beginning of the night before?"

"Yes."

"It's important because I'm not happy, so he shouldn't be happy either."

Tang Sanshi looked at the broken gate of the National Teaching Academy, his face expressionless.

Chen Changsheng looked at the broken gate, silent, and realized he was also very unhappy.

At this moment, the young noble's voice echoed in the light rain. "Very good, very good..."

Chen Changsheng made up his mind and looked up at the young noble, saying a sentence.

He was hesitant, unaccustomed, and somewhat resistant, as he had never said anything like this before. But he did not know how else to interrupt the young noble's words. Moreover, as Tang Sanshi had said, the broken gate of the National Teaching Academy in the rain had made him very angry.

"Good..."

He looked at the young noble, speaking seriously and awkwardly, "Your grandmother's..."

From Xining Town to the capital, he had rarely cursed or used foul language, so his words were very unfamiliar and even somewhat stiff, with several pauses, like a child learning to speak, uttering each word slowly.

Logically, the young noble should have had enough time to interrupt him, but he did not.

Chen Changsheng thought he had finally succeeded, though it seemed a bit clumsy.

He looked at Tang Sanshi, hoping for some praise, but noticed that the atmosphere in the scene was somewhat strange.

The gate of the National Teaching Academy in the morning rain was silent, and the dust in the ruins was wet by the rain, not rising.

(Chapter 2 is at night. The monthly votes are currently in second place. Please check if you still have any monthly votes. If you like "Zetian Ji," please vote for this book. If you like this cat, please continue to like it. Thank you.)

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