Chapter Twenty-Seven: Everyone Present Is Trash

“What… what are you trying to do?” From the crowd, the scholar who spoke most and was the most handsome stepped forward, demanding an answer.

When it came to scholarly matters, he was an expert. Regardless of who the opponent was or their status, one's demeanor must not falter—this was the daily self-cultivation of a scholar. Whether exchanging words or spitting in each other's faces, scholars of the Great Tang never backed down.

“Chang'an He, do you wish to recite a few rhymes, or debate the subtlety of the classics? Name your challenge, and I shall accompany you to the end!” the scholar declared, pride evident in his bearing.

“I’ll reason with you,” Chang'an He replied calmly.

“Reason with me? Ha! You want to reason with me—ah!” Before the scholar could finish, his eye was struck by a heavy fist, followed immediately by a kick to the stomach.

Stunned, the scholar collapsed to the ground, one hand covering his eye, the other clutching his belly, trembling in pain.

“Crude brute! A gentleman uses words, not fists!”

“Stop, Chang'an He! Do you mean to incite public outrage?”

“Alas, truly a disgrace to scholars—so uncouth, so vulgar…”

The other scholars were equally dumbfounded. Chang'an He struck without warning, giving no one a chance to respond—utterly disregarding the virtues of scholarship!

The beaten scholar was of some standing, his strength even a notch above Li Yishan, yet under the fists and feet of Chang'an He, this crude fighter, he had not a shred of resistance.

He managed to pull out a sage’s work, tore a page, and had just begun to recite, “A gentleman cherishes virtue,” when Chang'an He rained blows upon his head.

He also targeted vulnerable spots—soft ribs, lower belly—with a few vicious knees.

In less than ten breaths, the scholar was sprawled on the ground like a pile of mud, groaning, unable to rise.

“Is there anyone else who’d like me to reason with them?” Chang'an He dusted his hands, brushing off the traces of dirt on his constable’s uniform, smiling brightly as he asked.

“Chang'an He, you… you’re far too crude!” one scholar could no longer endure it. “Come, try hitting me!”

With a wave, the scholar released a thick aura of righteous energy and strode confidently toward Chang'an He.

Chang'an He smiled, “May I ask your name?”

“I am Shen—ah!” The scholar had barely spoken when his nose was struck by a heavy punch, blood streaming down his face and hands.

“You—”

With a loud bang, Chang'an He lunged forward with a punch, followed by a kick, sending the scholar flying like a leaf in autumn.

With a splash, he landed in the ceremonial pond.

---

“Chang'an He, damn you! Just wait, I’ll fight you to the end!” The scholar, showing some grit, leaped out of the pond despite swallowing several mouthfuls of water.

“Come on, He! Let me, Shen Yan, measure just how many pounds and ounces you’re worth, you cur!”

As Shen Yan rushed at Chang'an He, he pulled out a sage’s book from his chest, tore off a thick stack of pages, and shouted,

“Each ten steps, a man falls; a thousand miles, no one remains!”

‘Ah, starting with the ultimate move. Not bad,’ Chang'an He smirked coldly, but did not strike immediately.

Defeating this Shen Yan would be effortless, but… he wanted to stand out, not merely brawl. He understood this better than anyone.

Shen Yan was an opportunity.

Augmented by murderous intent, Shen Yan drew a ruler, teleporting within five feet of Chang'an He, and struck mercilessly.

Chang'an He kept smiling, silently channeling his breath technique, but harnessing righteous energy, which formed a blue shield around him, protecting a three-foot radius.

He wanted to test the power of righteous energy.

Shen Yan’s ruler crashed down with a fierce gust, not unlike a warrior’s blade, landing heavily on the shield.

The shield rippled lightly, then easily dissolved the force.

Shen Yan paused, then roared and struck again, intent on smashing Chang'an He into the earth.

The shield rippled, then restored itself.

“Is that it? Pathetic!” Chang'an He shook his head, pulling a booklet from his chest and reading with relish.

Judging by the cover, it was Li Yishan’s “Famous Courtesans of the Great Tang”...

---

Half an hour passed.

Shen Yan roared, his body shining with clear light, hair and beard bristling, his fury blowing his scholar’s cap askew. His bones crackled, and his entire demeanor transformed.

If he had previously been an enraged scholar, now he resembled a butcher with a face of iron.

“Chang'an He, you’ve gone too far. Today, it’s either you die or I live!” Shen Yan snarled, charging forward.

He discarded all his scholarly implements—brush, ink, paper, inkstone—attacking barehanded, teeth clenched.

‘Hmm, that’s more like it, but his strength is still weak,’ Chang'an He continued to leaf through “Famous Courtesans of the Great Tang,” casually thickening the righteous energy shield around him to a full foot.

The surrounding scholars exchanged bewildered glances, their faces incredulous, all thinking, ‘How can we fight this? We can’t even break his defense.’

Chang'an He's skin was too thick!

Shen Yan ignored this, eyes bloodshot, attacking with punches, kicks, even scratching with nails, kneeing, biting…

---

Yes, he was nearly frenzied.

The other scholars couldn’t bear to watch, fearing that a fine scholar would be driven mad by this bastard Chang'an He…

“You should all learn from Shen Yan.” Chang'an He smiled faintly. “Today, I’ll show you what a true scholar is like when teaching his disciples.

You weaklings.

Oh, and that includes Master Ma Dai, sipping tea in the inner hall… You’re all pathetic.”

The scholars were dumbfounded.

Was there any justice left in the world? A crude brute beating and insulting scholars, spewing sarcasm and derision, yet claiming he was teaching disciples?

Wasn’t it just relying on his righteous energy? Wasn’t it just high defense? Wasn’t it just that his fists were harder than ours?

This was intolerable!

“Chang'an He, don’t be arrogant! Today we’ll cleanse our ranks!”

“Everyone, let’s join forces and kill this bastard!”

“Yes, yes, kill this scoundrel, this illiterate…”

---

For perhaps the first time, the scholars united in purpose, turning their wrath toward Chang'an He.

The scene became chaotic.

The words of sages, pages, brushes, inkstones, inkboxes, rulers, all manner of scholarly tools, mixed with their denunciations, rained down upon Chang'an He.

The blue shield around him trembled violently for the first time, visibly thinning…

“Put some effort in, are you scrubbing my back?” Chang'an He mocked, “I thought you weaklings were pathetic, but you’re even more feeble than I imagined!

Are you even men?

You run off to the pleasure quarters to listen to music—do you even belong there?

Actually, you do; your presence there boosts the confidence of non-scholars and accelerates the circulation of silver—truly, you serve the nation and the people by exhausting your resources…”

Chang'an He released another burst of righteous energy, sat down, and leafed through “Famous Courtesans of the Great Tang,” occasionally shaking his head in enjoyment…

“You little… junior brother, you’ve gone too far!”

Finally, Master Ma Dai could endure no longer. With a kick, he flung open the lecture hall doors, ruler in hand, and charged forward…