Chapter 117: Beating Some Sense
Chapter 117: Beating Some Sense
The remaining five students charged simultaneously. They raised their wooden weapons and attacked from multiple angles.
Solomon seamlessly wove through the incoming strikes. He parried a thrust with his bare forearm, stepped past the blade, and delivered a swift hook to the second attacker’s jaw. The boy spun around and hit the dirt.
A third student tried a sweeping low kick. Solomon hopped over the leg and retaliated with a sharp palm strike to the boy’s nose. Blood sprayed across the courtyard as the teenager stumbled backward and dropped his sword.
"Is this the peak strength of the Crimson Sun Institute?" Solomon asked, dodging another overhead chop.
He grabbed the attacker’s wrist, twisted the joint outward, and swept the boy’s legs from underneath him. The student slammed onto his back and gasped for breath.
The final standing rival stared at his fallen comrades. His hands trembled as he held his wooden sword in front of his chest. He looked at Solomon and quickly dropped his weapon onto the cobblestones.
"I think we are done with our practice session," the boy stammered, raising his hands in surrender.
Solomon dusted off his uniform and offered a satisfied grin. He walked over to where his executioner’s sword rested on the ground and hoisted the large weapon back onto his shoulder.
The second-year LSA disciples watched the entire encounter with wide eyes. Marco simply stood in the background and shook his head, knowing exactly how pointless it was to challenge the silver-haired boy.
[GoonLord: YOU FOLDED THEM LIKE WET PAPER!]
[Skeptic: wait, he didn’t even use aura for that?]
LazyCat: Solo Man sweeping the trash as usual.]
[NewbHunter: manners properly taught.]
"I feel much better now," Solomon told his chat, turning his back on the groaning students. "Watching other people train gets boring pretty fast. Let us just wait for the instructors to arrive and explain our actual lessons."
The clatter of boots against the cobblestones announced a new arrival. An older man wearing the deep blue robes of a sect instructor marched through the stone archway. He scanned the ruined weapon rack and immediately locked his eyes on the LSA student clutching his bleeding scalp.
"What is the meaning of this disruption?" the instructor demanded, sweeping his gaze across the divided groups.
Several second-year LSA disciples rushed forward to explain the situation. They pointed at the Crimson Sun students and detailed the malicious strike disguised as a training accident. Two sect workers jogging past the courtyard quickly intervened, hoisting the bleeding teenager up by his shoulders and carrying him toward the medical wing.
The instructor listened to the complaints while crossing his arms over his chest. He turned his head toward the Crimson Sun upperclassmen, letting a brief, dismissive sigh escape his lips.
"Accidents occur frequently when cultivators cross wooden blades," the instructor stated flatly. "You must learn to protect your own vital points during practice sequences. Resume your formations and pay better attention to your surroundings."
He waved his hand to dismiss the entire incident and turned his back on the group to walk away.
Solomon watched the blatant display of favoritism. A look of pure disgust twisted his features. He firmly believed an educator possessed a fundamental duty to treat every single disciple with equal fairness.
"Hey," Solomon called out.
He stepped forward and grabbed the collar of the nearest Crimson Sun student. Twisting his wrist, Solomon violently shoved the teenager backward. The boy crashed hard into the dirt, kicking up a cloud of dust across the courtyard.
The instructor halted his steps and spun around. He stared at the fallen disciple and then glared directly at Solomon. "What are you doing?"
The remaining crimson-robed students immediately seized the opportunity to complain. They pointed their wooden swords at Solomon.
"This arrogant first-year trespassed into our designated area!" the buzz-cut leader shouted, helping his peer off the ground. "He interrupted our sequence and brutally attacked us without any provocation!"
The instructor inspected Solomon’s basic gray uniform. A deep scowl formed on his face as he marched back into the center of the ring.
"A first-year novice dares to initiate violence in a senior courtyard?" the instructor barked, jabbing a finger at Solomon’s chest. "You will scrub the entire mountain staircase for a month. I am placing you in immediate confinement, and I will personally report your insubordination to the first-year instructors to ensure your evaluation scores are permanently reduced."
Solomon stared at the pointing finger. The sheer hypocrisy of the situation practically oozed from the man’s pores. The instructor actively protected the rival students who cracked a boy’s skull, yet instantly handed out severe penalties to a first-year for a simple shove.
[LazyCat: the bias is actually insane.][User12: typical corrupt teacher trope. Solo Man is going to end him.][GoonLord: DO NOT LET HIM TALK TO YOU LIKE THAT!][BloodKnight: A martial sect rotting from the inside. The instructors lack honor.]
Solomon brushed the man’s hand away from his uniform. "If a newly arrived first-year student can walk into this courtyard and easily beat five of your veteran disciples using only his bare hands, there is a fundamental flaw in your teaching methods."
He gestured toward the recovering Crimson Sun students. "You are clearly failing at your job. Instead of threatening me with chores, you should probably be the one facing punishment for being entirely incompetent."
The instructor’s face turned a brilliant shade of purple. The veins along his neck bulged against his collar. He gripped his wooden staff so tightly his knuckles turned white.
"You insolent brat," the instructor hissed, stepping into Solomon’s personal space. "I will drag you directly to the senior instructors for this disrespect. I will take you straight to Pavilion Leader Jin if I have to. You are going to be stripped of your academy crest today!"
Solomon looked at the fuming man and let out a loud, ringing laugh. The empty threat amused him completely. He had just spent an extensive amount of time receiving direct permission from Master Wu and discussing his future training specifically with Leader Jin.
"Please do," Solomon chuckled, crossing his arms and grinning widely. "I would love to hear what Leader Jin has to say about this."
The casual, dismissive laughter completely broke the instructor’s remaining patience. He raised his wooden staff high into the air, fuming with a rage.