Chapter 17: Slapping the Grandmaster
"They're fighting!"
"It really is a Blue Silver Grass martial soul!"
As Tang San released his martial soul, the crowd gasped. After all, Blue Silver Grass was universally considered worthless.
Several strands of shining blue grass shot toward Wang Sheng. The boy gritted his teeth and hurriedly activated his own martial soul.
A phantom tiger appeared behind him—but the dark Blue Silver Grass coiled tightly around his body before he could react. The difference between a soul master and someone without a ring was immense.
Within moments, Wang Sheng was entirely bound, unable to move.
Tang San's gaze turned cold.
He never showed mercy to those who sought death. The Blue Silver Grass, strengthened by the Mandala Snake's poison, pulsed faintly with venom.
Without hesitation, Tang San injected the paralytic toxin into Wang Sheng's body.
The toxin wouldn't kill, but it would ensure that Wang Sheng suffered.
And still—it wasn't enough.
Tang San quietly drew a concealed sleeve dart from his soul tool.
Too many witnesses for me to kill him outright, he thought grimly. But crippling him will do.
He raised the dart, aiming low—at Wang Sheng's groin.
The dart shot out silently. But just as a cruel smile began forming on Tang San's lips, a shadow blocked his attack.
A dark silhouette stood before Wang Sheng, shimmering with black light. Several miniature darts lay harmlessly in its hand.
"What—how?!" Tang San's pupils shrank. His hidden weapon had been caught midair—barehanded.
"So vicious at such a young age… Is this what your teacher taught you?" The voice was calm yet laced with scorn. The silhouette turned slightly, its features obscured by darkness.
"To drive someone away is one thing, but to use hidden weapons and even coat them in poison?" the shadow continued coldly. "Tell me—were these underhanded tricks also lessons from your Grandmaster?"
Only then did the surrounding crowd seem to grasp what had happened. Seeing the darts clutched by the black figure, murmurs of understanding spread.
"Using poisoned hidden weapons? How disgraceful!"
"He had already restrained his opponent! Why go for a killing blow?"
"Like teacher, like student—shameless both of them!"
Tang San's face darkened completely under the crowd's condemnation. Anger boiled beneath his calm mask. "Who are you?" he demanded.
"Just a bystander," the figure replied lightly, "or do you think I, too, need to die for speaking out?"
Tang San's heart skipped a beat, eyes flashing in alarm.
He… can read my thoughts?
No, impossible. He must just be mocking me…
The shadow's tone turned colder. "Tell me, were those ruthless tricks of yours all taught by your beloved teacher?"
Tang San remained silent. There was nothing he could say. He had indeed lost composure, and his hidden weapon had been exposed for all to see.
After a long pause, he clenched his jaw and said, "I only wanted to teach him a lesson—he insulted my teacher!"
"He merely said what everyone already knows. How is that an insult?" the figure said, shaking its head. It turned toward Yu Xiaogang. "And your teacher—he doesn't seem eager to clarify anything."
"I never practiced any heretical art!" Yu Xiaogang snapped at last, his patience breaking.
"Then explain why Assistant Zhang died in your office!" Wang Sheng retorted, having freed himself from the Blue Silver Grass's grip.
"I…" Yu Xiaogang faltered, words failing him.
"No explanation? Then it's true." Wang Sheng laughed bitterly.
"I didn't kill him! I'm a master of martial soul theory! I stake my name and honor on that!" Yu Xiaogang shouted, finally exploding under the pressure.
For a moment, the street fell silent—until laughter echoed, cutting through the tension.
"What's so funny?" Yu Xiaogang glared at the mocking silhouette.
His so-called reputation as a theoretical expert was the only thing he cherished. And this stranger had dared to mock it publicly.
"I just thought of something amusing," came the calm reply.
"What's amusing?" Yu Xiaogang demanded, barely restraining his fury.
"Your title—Grandmaster of Theory." The shadow waved dismissively, its voice dripping with disdain.
"So, you call yourself a master of martial soul theory? I recall one of your favorite sayings: 'There are no useless martial souls, only useless soul masters.' Tell me, Grandmaster—what does that make you?"
"After all these years, still stuck at level twenty-nine. So, which is it? Are you the useless soul master—or the one with the useless martial soul?"
Yu Xiaogang's face turned ashen. That phrase, his crowning motto, had never cut him before—until now.
The crowd's eyes turned on him, curious, doubtful.
"And your Ten Core Theories," the shadow continued almost lazily. "That must be your pride and joy, huh?"
"Yes!" Yu Xiaogang straightened, trying to regain dignity. "They are the foundation of modern martial soul study!"
"Then allow me one simple question, Master Yu," the voice murmured. "Your theories reference knowledge far beyond your rank's reach—so tell us, where did you obtain that information?"
Yu Xiaogang's complexion went pale as chalk.
That was his greatest secret. The data—all of it—had come from Spirit Hall's records. No one was ever supposed to know.
"I… Those papers…" he stammered, searching for words.
The shadow cut him off coldly. "They came from somewhere else, didn't they? You took another's research and published it under your own name. Yet you still dare claim the title of Theorist?"
A hush fell again. Even Tang San glanced suspiciously at his teacher.
"They were given to me!" Yu Xiaogang burst out defensively. "A friend shared that data willingly! I only published it for the sake of spreading knowledge!"
"Oh?" the shadow replied, feigning surprise. "Then perhaps I was mistaken."
"But still," it added with a faint chuckle, "since you're so devoted to spreading knowledge, perhaps you should take more students. I've heard that during your years here, you've only accepted one—surely you could do better?"
"After all, not every student is born with full innate soul power. Shouldn't a true teacher guide them all equally?"
Yu Xiaogang's jaw tightened.
Everyone around could hear the mockery layered within those polite words.
He claimed that there were no useless martial souls—only useless soul masters—yet he had never taken a disciple without extraordinary innate talent.
What did that say about him?
Under the crowd's scornful stares, Yu Xiaogang's face contorted. Tang San grabbed his arm, pulling him away. Together, they fled back into Notting Academy.
Wang Sheng made to follow but stopped, realizing it was pointless.
Turning, he bowed deeply to the mysterious shadow. "Thank you, sir, for saving me."
The Raven Shadow Puppet—controlled by Luo Ling—nodded silently and turned to leave.
From afar, Bibi Dong watched everything unfold, her expression unreadable.
Had she truly once fallen for such a man?
The memory made her chest tighten with anger and confusion.
Without another word, she too turned and walked away.
(END CHAPTER)
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