Eric Clark secretly frowned, thinking to himself that it was no wonder so many senior brothers in the South Sea looked down on Building 103—apparently, it wasn’t just that the disciples of 103 had poor cultivation, their character was also truly nothing to write home about.

“Monkey, don’t go too far. Today is Master’s lecture, and fighting is strictly forbidden!” Eric Clark didn’t speak, but a voice sounded from behind him.

Eric Clark turned his head and saw a quiet, scholarly young cultivator standing behind him, also dressed in a black robe. His voice was slightly hoarse, but exceptionally clear.

Eric Clark knew this person—Scott Stone, his neighbor. He was an honest guy, trained diligently, seemed to come from a poor family, and was usually a bit introverted. Because they lived next door to each other, he and Eric Clark got along fairly well.

Chapter Four: The Beautiful Master!

“What’s wrong, Scott Stone? Are you really going to stand up for Pighead Young Master? Why don’t you take a look in the mirror—do you really think your second-level postnatal skills are enough?” David Grant screeched in a raspy voice, his attitude extremely arrogant and overbearing, completely ignoring Scott Stone.

Scott Stone was usually honest and low-key. With David Grant acting tough and the crowd egging him on, his face flushed bright red.

He was full of anger, his lips moved, but he just couldn’t get a word out.

A surge of wicked fire rose in Eric Clark’s heart, and he let out a soft snort. He was a body with two souls.

The soul in this life wasn’t exactly a good person either—he’d been a scoundrel before, only boasting and bluffing because his cultivation was low. Deep down, he was also a bold and combative guy. Now that his cultivation had reached the late stage of the third postnatal level, how could he let David Grant, another third-level cultivator, step on his neck?

“Get lost!” Eric Clark spat out the word through gritted teeth, his eyes rolling, a greenish tinge appearing on his face.

He raised his hand slightly, a flash of talismanic light in his palm, and the peachwood talisman sword burst forth with a flash of green light, shooting straight at David Grant.

David Grant was stunned, instinctively took a step back, and quickly dodged to the side, making way.

The corners of Eric Clark’s mouth curled up slightly as he strode past with light steps, still walking forward with his head held high.

Their brief clash was like sparks flying from flint—many onlookers only saw a flash of talismanic light, David Grant giving way, and Eric Clark passing through with ease.

The entire hall suddenly fell silent.

“Watch out!” Scott Stone suddenly shouted.

David Grant, humiliated and furious after being caught off guard by Eric Clark’s sudden move, felt his face had been utterly lost.

How could he let himself be shamed in front of so many people?

He summoned his own magical weapon—a decent one, a genuine entry-level artifact: the “Demon-Subduing Tiger Ring.”

At South Sea Cultivation Academy, even the losers in Building 103 would go to great lengths to craft a passable magical weapon for themselves.

Someone like Eric Clark, using the school-issued “Peachwood Talisman Sword” as his weapon, was truly rare.

For cultivators, a magical weapon was not just about boosting strength—it was also a matter of face, a symbol of status. In a sense, a magical weapon was a cultivator’s business card, their very reputation.

As the “Demon-Subduing Tiger Ring” was unleashed, a flash of blue light shot straight at Eric Clark’s back.

Although Eric Clark wore a protective robe, it was the academy’s lowest-grade robe—there was no way it could withstand a full-force blow from an entry-level artifact.

If that hit landed, with Eric Clark’s cultivation, even if he didn’t die on the spot, he’d be close to it.

Many of the disciples watching widened their eyes—the scene instantly became deathly silent.

David Grant was notorious for his viciousness and ruthlessness. To strike so hard in front of everyone in the lecture hall clearly shocked many people.

Just as the blue light from the “Demon-Subduing Tiger Ring” was about to hit Eric Clark—

Eric Clark, as if he had eyes in the back of his head, sidestepped, raised his right hand, and three flashes of talismanic light flickered in his palm. The “Peachwood Talisman Sword” instantly grew larger, shining brilliantly.

“Clang!” The talisman sword and tiger ring clashed in midair.

Eric Clark frowned—the sword’s light dimmed a bit, but in an instant, he circulated his spiritual power, and two more flashes of talismanic light appeared.

The sword’s brilliance flared up again.

Another “clang!” “clang!”—then everyone heard a loud “thud” as the blue light dissipated, revealing the true form of the ancient bronze tiger ring, which fell to the ground.

Meanwhile, the “Peachwood Talisman Sword” controlled by Eric Clark remained as bright as ever, transforming into a streak of light that slashed straight toward David Grant’s head.

“Ah…”

Cries of alarm erupted from the crowd.

The fight between Eric Clark and David Grant sounded long, but in reality, it all happened in the blink of an eye.

A moment ago, Eric Clark had been in grave danger, but in an instant, he turned the tables, exuding a murderous aura as if he was about to behead David Grant.

David Grant was already pale with fear.

His earlier ferocity had vanished without a trace. He opened his mouth wide and shouted, “Murder! He’s killing someone in the lecture hall…”

He only got halfway through his sentence before Eric Clark snorted coldly, his hand trembling slightly, the sword’s light veering off just enough to slice off the topknot on David Grant’s head.

In the next moment, Eric Clark suddenly raised his foot and, using the “Longevity Leopard Tail Kick” that every disciple knew, kicked David Grant square in the chest and abdomen—a force of nearly a thousand pounds slamming into a skinny monkey of just a few dozen pounds.