Chapter 230: The Eighteen Battle Puppets

Far below the Tian Ce Platform, on a lush green mountain peak that stood opposite it, there stood a majestic cluster of buildings.

Upon entering, one would see a vast square that could accommodate ten thousand disciples training together, surrounded by shady green trees. In the square, there stood ancient stone sculptures. Some wielded swords, others stood with broadswords held high… each one exuding a fierce killing aura. Their bulging muscles, veins like tree roots, and determined expressions… all were so lifelike that an aura of intense battle could be felt from afar.

Literature recorded the ages, while martial arts wrote legends!

The ancient statues, brimming with killing intent, perfectly showcased the Scholastic Palace’s pursuit of martial arts.

The saying that scholars were useless was merely a misunderstanding, or rather, people’s impression and opinion of recent scholars. In the Ancient Era, it was different. True scholars not only read extensively but also traveled across various states, persuading kings to implement their governance strategies and realize their ideals.

“Reading ten thousand books is not as good as traveling ten thousand miles” was the sentiment left by generations of scholars after journeying through the Great Thousand World.

Behind the square stood a towering, dark palace built from blocks of hard obsidian. On its walls were carved the teachings of ancient sages and scenes of these Saints preaching and traveling the world. Set against these reliefs, the dark palace appeared even more solemn and dignified.

Disciples streaming in from all directions chattered along the way, but as they approached the palace, they all fell silent in unison. They brushed the dust off their sleeves with a flick, lined up orderly, and sat cross-legged silently in the square outside the palace.

Jiangwu Hall!

Upon hearing that Mu Feng was about to undergo the assessment at Jiangwu Hall, people quickly gathered to watch with anticipation.

A young man who had been named the Jianning First Scholar at a tender age and titled “Mu of the Four Books” upon entering the Scholastic Palace—how would he perform in cultivation? Would he be as outstanding in martial arts as he was in scholarship?

People were filled with anticipation about Mu Feng’s abilities!

Not long after the disciples who had taken shortcuts sat down cross-legged, Mu Feng arrived at Jiangwu Hall led by a woman in white.

Looking around, the square was packed with a sea of heads, and thousands of disciples in white robes continued to arrive in an endless stream. Compared to the gathering at Tian Ce Platform, even more disciples had come upon hearing the news, and as usual, they formed three orderly groups: Civil and Martial Hall, Literary Brush Hall, and Literary Sword Hall.

“Young Master Mu, please!”

The woman in white who had led the way bowed and stopped at the front of the palace, signaling Mu Feng to push the door open and enter alone. “Inside the palace, everything is set up, and the Battle Puppet Restriction has been activated. All you need to do is open the door, walk in, and pass through the front hall guarded by the Eighteen Battle Puppets. Each Battle Puppet possesses significant power; if you feel you cannot defeat them, simply input your Spiritual Power to gently activate this Black Crystal Bracer to halt the assessment. There will be no danger.”

The woman in white handed over a black bracer, then bowed and retreated.

Black Crystal Bracer?

Mu Feng took the black bracer and examined it carefully.

It felt cold to the touch, with faint waves of pure Spiritual Power emanating from it. It resembled a Crystal Stone but was somewhat different from ordinary ones. After a black light shimmered, a map of the Xiangshan Academy faintly appeared. Clearly, it was not just an ordinary bracer but a mysterious magical artifact.

Click…

After a moment’s thought, Mu Feng put on the Black Crystal Bracer. With a crisp sound, the cold bracer securely clasped around his wrist. Turning back, he glanced at the crowded square and unexpectedly spotted a familiar figure among the disciples of Civil and Martial Hall—a woman in white named Wen Feixue, who was watching him nervously, a trace of worry in her expression.

“Civil and Martial Hall, Wen Feixue!”

Mu Feng silently noted the identity of the woman in white, Wen Feixue, smiled at her, then turned and walked away. After a few steps, he stopped again before the dark, heavy door. Faintly, he could hear dull, thunderous roars from behind it, like the growls of wild beasts, making him feel uneasy and fearful.

“Literature recorded the ages, while martial arts wrote legends!”

“Literature…, martial arts…”

…

Just as he hesitated, a thunderous cheer erupted behind Mu Feng.

Thousands of seated disciples shouted in unison. This was not just encouragement for Mu Feng but also the shared belief in every disciple’s heart.

Having come to the Xiangshan Academy to study, they aspired to become scholars skilled in both literature and martial arts, aiming to achieve great deeds one day!

Though their approaches differed—some advocating literature first, others martial arts first, hence the division into Civil and Martial Hall, Literary Brush Hall, and Literary Sword Hall—their belief in mastering both remained the same. Perhaps sensing this conviction, the stone sculptures in the square and even the reliefs of ancient Saints on the palace walls became even more vivid and lifelike, as if coming to life at that moment. In the air, faint echoes of the ancient Saints’ clear voices preaching could be heard, filling the world with a magnificent sense of righteousness.

Being upright and holding justice in one’s heart naturally cultivates righteousness within.

Since ancient times, even an unbeaten general might yield under the pressure of a powerful enemy, but a true scholar never bowed down, remaining unyielding in the face of force.

A single scholar stood with righteousness; thousands of scholars together created a towering aura of justice!

Deep within the Scholastic Palace, the ancient bronze bell in the bell tower rang on its own—dong, dong, dong. The entire Xiangshan Mountain, where the academy was located, was bathed in a solemn and sacred atmosphere, impervious to all evils. All dark and malevolent beings lurking in shadows fell silent, not daring to approach this sacred ground of scholars.

Literature recorded the ages, while martial arts wrote legends?

Mu Feng glanced back at the sea of disciples, took a deep breath, and pushed the palace door open, stepping inside.

Bang…

As soon as Mu Feng entered, the heavy door closed automatically behind him, and his figure vanished instantly, as if swallowed by boundless darkness.

At the same time, the obsidian walls outside suddenly glowed with a black light, revealing a startling scene. Every move Mu Feng made inside the palace was projected onto the walls, displayed before the thousands of disciples. They saw him appear in a vast hall, his expression serious, surrounded by towering stone sculptures nearly ten meters tall. Without exception, each held a heavy, sharp longsword.

Every longsword was several times the height of a person, gleaming coldly. Even though they were only seeing a projection, the sight of the swords in the sculptures’ hands sent chills down their spines.

“The Eighteen Battle Puppets! Heavens, why has the Eighteen Battle Puppets Restriction been activated directly?”

“Right, isn’t the first assessment usually just three Battle Puppets?”

…

Watching the clear projection on the palace walls, everyone gasped in shock.

According to the academy’s usual rules, a disciple’s first assessment involved at most three Battle Puppets. Even that was enough to eliminate most disciples, compelling them to train hard. What did it mean that eighteen Battle Puppets appeared in the first assessment?

Did the Jiangwu Hall’s staff make a mistake, or was someone deliberately making things difficult? Or was Mu Feng’s ability so strong that the academy’s higher-ups intentionally increased the difficulty?

People murmured among themselves, all staring wide-eyed in surprise and tension, afraid of missing any of Mu Feng’s movements.

Among the dark crowd of Civil and Martial Hall disciples, Wen Feixue, already anxious and worried, instinctively gripped the sword hilt at her waist. Her face was tense, her heart racing, as if she were even more nervous than Mu Feng himself.