My Wife Is A Sword Immortal
Chapter 468 - 319 A Zhao Rong-triggered ’Bloodbath

Chapter 468: Chapter 319 A Zhao Rong-triggered ’Bloodbath

Upon the nine-tiered steps.

As soon as Meng Xuezhen made a move, the uproar at the scene, like a duck whose neck was gripped by a large hand, fell utterly silent in an instant.

"Per the old rules, for these special evaluations that deviate from the main arrangement, I will score discretionally and give extra points to those who perform exceptionally well," she declared.

After her words fell.

Zhao Rong saw that none of the students on the field looked excited or eager to try.

Most were expressionless or diverted their gaze.

Zhao Rong nodded in acknowledgment.

It seemed that the Mochi students who had participated in this kind of special examination in the last two Great exams had not done very well.

Meng Xuezhen’s standing posture was meticulous, giving everyone time to think as she stood quietly for a moment.

Seeing that the students below the steps lacked enthusiasm.

Her gaze was calm and still carried a serious and stern expression, methodically she said:

"Today, the Ritual Hall will determine the list of students for the Ritual Skill examination, whether they are going to the Academy’s Holy Temple or to Great Li."

"Following the regulations, your choices will be respected first. Those who wish to go to Great Li for the examination, please step forward," she instructed.

On the empty ground where hundreds were gathered, there was dead silence, only punctuated by Meng Xuezhen’s calm voice echoing.

She nodded, "Seize the opportunity, everyone. The spots are limited, first come, first served."

Mochi students: "......"

Everyone exchanged glances. What do you think this is, a clearance sale at a Bookstore?

Forget it.

Meng Xuezhen did not give much time for a reaction.

She looked straight ahead as if she hadn’t noticed the reluctant atmosphere among the surrounding students.

This solemn and serious woman, like she was merely reciting a script and going through the motions, said dutifully:

"By the rules, this Great Li’s sealing ceremony must have at least one person to preside."

"If no one wants these precious slots, then the Ritual Hall will make a selection. Those selected, unless with a valid reason, must not refuse."

Meng Xuezhen paused, then her gaze shifted.

She lowered her eyes, sweeping her gaze from left to right over the Mochi students below the steps.

Wherever the woman’s gaze landed.

Some Mochi students glanced sideways, evasively looking here and there.

Others bowed their heads to the ground.

Others remained silent and solemn.

None met her gaze.

Several students subtly took a step back without making a sound.

The air on the field felt somewhat tense for a moment.

Gu Yiwu, standing to the right rear, couldn’t help but twitch at the corners of his mouth.

At that moment, his alertness high, he subtly moved back a step as well, using the bodies of the students in front to hide himself.

Gu Yiwu’s large and hefty frame, through nimble shifting and angle maneuvering, turned him fleet as a feather.

An incredibly agile burly man.

This scene rendered Fan Yushu next to him utterly astounded, hastily following suit.

Gu Yiwu, who had always been seen as a robust and imposing Confucian Scholar, now wished he could appear smaller.

The students from Justice Hall, close to him, also followed the senior’s instructions, keeping a low profile to ensure Meng Xuezhen would not notice them.

Ah, unless it was absolutely necessary and they were called out, they would definitely not step forward.

Gu Yiwu felt reassured seeing everyone listened to him, and he surreptitiously thrived.

Alas, for the sake of Justice Hall’s examination results, he really was worried sick.

Gu Yiwu let out a slight sigh of relief.

But the next second, his gaze shifted, and he saw Zhao Rong still standing leisurely, his head lowered as he examined the curved palm that seemed to measure the slender waist of a distant lady.

Gu Yiwu’s eyes twitched fiercely again.

He quickly reached out, grabbed Zhao Rong’s ill-mannered hand, and pulled him to also evade Meng Xuezhen’s gaze.

Zhao Rong frowned, whispering, "Why are you grabbing my hand?"

Gu Yiwu, lowering his voice further, sternly said, "Zhao Ziyu, cut it out, this is no joke. Meng Xuezhen is serious, don’t be too conspicuous, just keep it lowkey like me. A wise man does not court danger."

Zhao Rong looked around, observing many students dodging under Meng Xuezhen’s survey.

Turning his head back, he nodded gravely and said:

"Do you think by hiding you will avoid being picked? It’s useless. Men like Huaijin and me, who are as dazzling as fireflies in the dark, so vivid, so outstanding..."

Gu Yiwu had a pained expression.

Zhao Rong, changing the subject with distaste, said, "Huaijin, let go of your hand first, it’s all sweaty."

Gu Yiwu coughed lightly, "Alright, just keep it lowkey, sigh, I don’t even know who Meng Xuezhen has already chosen."

The moment their hands were freed, they let go.

Zhao Rong did not respond.

Ignoring the comments, he took out a goose yellow handkerchief and carefully wiped his hands.

This handkerchief had been forcefully given to Zhao Rong by Qian’er before she left.

Little Qian’er had even sternly reminded him with a straight face to wash it after use.

This made him, who was engrossed in his studies and a bit sloppy in his daily life, marvel at how the young girl truly valued cleanliness... eh, that was her intention... right?

Yu Huaijin stood quietly with her hands clasped, looking just like a smaller version carved from the same mold as Meng Xuezhen on the steps.

She kept an eye on the activities of her own Academy’s students.

At one moment, Yu Huaijin’s gaze landed on Zhao Rong, who was quietly doing something with his head down.

Seeing him behaving properly.

She nodded slightly, then turned her attention to the other Shuaixing Hall students.

At this moment, Meng Xuezhen had already swept her gaze across the assembly twice.

However, her gaze did not linger on Zhao Rong and Gu Yiwu among others, she merely glanced over calmly.

Just as Yu Huaijin had said to Zhao Rong earlier.

Meng Xuezhen wasn’t particularly focused on those who were dodging her.

In fact, she had already anticipated the somber and non-responsive reception from the Mochi students below.

Her current behavior was merely procedural, intended also to quash the recent lax atmosphere in the Academy, led by someone.

She didn’t really expect anyone to volunteer.

But that was fine.

Because Meng Xuezhen had already made arrangements.

At this moment, on the staircase in front of the Ritual Hall.

Looking at the uniform, eye-catching blue collars below, like a pool of still water, Meng Zhengjun nodded.

"Mm, okay."

She lowered her eyes, fumbled in her sleeve for a moment, and then pulled out a folded white paper.

Seeing this, most of the students from Mochi flinched in their hearts. Was this the list of compulsorily assigned names?

A grave expression suddenly appeared on Gu Yiwu’s brow.

He had guessed it would be like this; Meng Zhengjun had already arranged the candidates.

Next to him, Zhao Rong was still carefully wiping his hands.

Yu Huaijin stood at the very front of the line, his expression as impassively flat as ever.

On the stage, Meng Zhengjun’s face was expressionless, her fingers nimble as she slowly unfolded the folded white paper with names.

At the same time, she, still looking down, seemed about to speak, her mouth slightly opened.

Zhao Rong finally finished wiping his hands. He carefully folded Qian’er’s handkerchief, put it away, looked up, and stepped forward.

"Excuse me," he said.

After a slight pause, the crowd in front of him suddenly parted like a stream split by an axe.

With the noise around him growing louder, Zhao Rong, his expression calm and lips pursed, strode out of the crowded mass.

The stunned Gu Yiwu, Yu Huaijin with his ’effort broken’ furrowed brows, Li Xueyou with her mouth slightly open, classmates with wide-open eyes, and so forth.

All were left behind him.

Zhao Rong lifted his robe, climbed up the stairs.

One level.

Two levels.

Three levels...

In the corner of his eye, Meng Zhengjun seemed to be frowning at him.

A slight smile tugged at Zhao Rong’s lips.

Soon, he had stepped iteratively up to the ninth level of steps.

At the top, the wind seemed a bit strong; it was deep into autumn already.

Zhao Rong muttered to himself, then slightly lowered his head to meet Meng Zhengjun’s eyes, which were somewhat lower than his, and smiled, "I’m going to Great Li; one spot is now filled. There’s no need to choose anyone else."

The venue went silent.

Everyone was watching the man standing under the autumn sun on the stairs, blocking the autumn wind with a smile.

Meng Zhengjun’s movement of her hands had already frozen, the folded white paper only halfway open; but it had already lost its purpose, usurped by someone else.

From the moment he appeared in her line of sight, like an arrow piercing through the crowd and stepping onto the stage, Meng Zhengjun contemplated his bold move.

Meng Zhengjun’s eternally frosty serious expression softened slightly, showing a tinge of astonishment.

However, it vanished as quickly as it had appeared, concealing any discernible emotion.

Meng Zhengjun’s face remained expressionless; her eyes gradually narrowed, scanning up and down, carefully sizing up the man who dared to stand on the platform with her.

Mm, Zhao Rong was even half a head taller than her.

Meng Zhengjun found it slightly uncomfortable, needing to look up at him.

The autumn sun behind his head was somewhat dazzling.

Even so, Meng Zhengjun’s eyes did not blink.

Then, she uttered a single word.

"You?"

Zhao Rong replied with a smile, "Ah, indeed, a student from Mochi, Zhao Ziyu. May I ask if there’s a problem?"

Meng Zhengjun did not speak for a moment.

Zhao Rong’s gaze didn’t falter, "Just now, downstairs, I heard you encourage us to step forward, right?"

He paused, glanced at Meng Zhengjun, who now seemed less imposing than when he had looked up at her from below.

She and Yu Huaijin were alike, quite thin, ah, just taller.

Zhao Rong turned to look at the silent, densely packed students of Mochi below, his tone questioning:

"So were your words just now merely to scare us? Had you already chosen someone?"

At these words, most of the students below instinctively held their breath.

He really dared to say it!

Yet many students frightened of being chosen let out a long sigh of relief.

Yu Huaijin’s frown deepened.

Gu Yiwu had gradually come to his senses, now silent.

As soon as Zhao Rong stopped speaking, deep creases furrowed Meng Zhengjun’s forehead, deepening, her cheeks even twitching slightly.

She stared at Zhao Rong, saying coldly, "You alone? Of course, that’s possible."

Zhao Rong softly replied, "Then it’s settled, just like that."

Meng Zhengjun nodded and took the half-unfolded paper in her hand, bearing just three characters, and clenched it in her fist, instantly turning it to fine ash, disappearing in the autumn wind.

She then turned around, looked around at the students of Mochi, and announced loudly:

"The current examination for Ritual Skill is divided into two batches. Except for Zhao Ziyu of Shuaixing Hall, everyone else stays at the Academy Holy Temple for the customary assessment. Zhao Ziyu of Shuaixing Hall will be sent to Great Li to manage the Grand Crowning Ceremony."

With these words.

There was some silence below.

Everyone silently watched the lone, tall figure on the stage.

Meng Zhengjun looked around, her face expressionless, deciding conclusively, "If there are no objections, then let this be effective immediately..."

"Wait a moment!" someone said.

Meng Zhengjun faltered, her brow furrowed as she turned to see that from the back right of the crowd, a simple, burly man had apologetically bowed, then, just like Zhao Rong had done, moved forward, parting the crowd, and climbed the steps to

stand beside Zhao Rong.

A brief silence ensued at the scene.

Then on the stage, there were three people.

Gu Yiwu said gravely, "Judge, count me in, Gu Yiwu of Justice Hall."

Meng Zhengjun pursed her lips, looking at the two men in front of her.

Zhao Rong frowned and glared at Gu Yiwu.

The latter smiled brightly without speaking, only extending his right hand and showing off a gesture:

His fingers slightly spread, his palm curved, and lastly, he even made a pinching motion in the air.

Zhao Rong: "..."

Yet this strange gesture was completely baffling to everyone else on the scene, unaware of its significance.

Sign language?

Why does this gesture feel a bit indecent...