Mr. Clark is a man who treats others with generosity and is... as open-minded as a valley. We all admire him—how could we possibly dare to cross swords with him?

　　This... this was all just us practicing our moves...

　　“Ha ha, good, good!” The crowd once again burst into cheers, everyone in high spirits.

　　Eric Clark treats others with generosity and is open-minded—everyone admires him. Is there any joke colder than this?

　　Only someone like David Grant could come up with such a classic line. How could everyone not cheer and applaud?

　　“Ruffians, ruffians, you’re all ruffians!” Grace Foster’s face turned livid with anger. She was born of noble blood, always used to giving orders and being the center of attention wherever she went. When had she ever encountered such an embarrassing situation where she couldn’t save face?

　　At this very moment, she wished she could cut down this hateful Eric Clark with a single sword strike.

　　Look at this guy, his face calm and unruffled, as if everything was under his control. The more she looked, the angrier she became.

　　“Fine, let’s demonstrate the control techniques for the ‘Peachwood Talisman Sword.’ Very well! Since that’s the case, today’s lesson will be on the use of the ‘Peachwood Talisman Sword’ talisman!” said Grace Foster.

　　With a light twist of her fingers, a ‘Peachwood Talisman Sword’ several inches long appeared in her hand. Every low-level disciple recognized this sword—wasn’t it the standard-issue magical tool for low-level disciples at the academy?

　　She glanced once more at Eric Clark and shouted, “Eric Clark, come forward. Let’s demonstrate a few moves of talisman sword control for everyone!”

　　Eric Clark’s expression changed. Sparring with an innate cultivator?

　　The entire lecture hall instantly erupted. How could a low-level cultivator possibly duel with an innate cultivator?

　　An innate cultivator could destroy a low-level cultivator with a single thought or a wisp of sword energy. Wouldn’t such a duel be blatant bullying?

　　Of course Eric Clark wouldn’t move. He knew exactly what he was capable of. To duel with an innate cultivator—even if the other party only used a “Peachwood Talisman Sword”—would be suicide.

　　Eric Clark knew well how precious life was and would never risk it on a whim.

　　“What’s wrong? Afraid? You claim to be skilled in talisman sword control, but when your master asks you to demonstrate, you don’t even dare?” Grace Foster pressed aggressively.

　　But Eric Clark still replied listlessly, “Master is right, I don’t dare to spar with you. I’m afraid of dying!”

　　“Ha ha, hee hee!” The crowd burst into laughter again, some even clapping in delight.

　　Cultivators are supposed to be dignified and care about their reputation. To admit so openly and righteously that you’re afraid of dying—only Eric Clark could do that.

　　This was classic Dorm 103 style. High-level cultivators had great power, plenty of magical treasures, and countless ways to save their lives, so they could afford to act tough.

　　But low-level cultivators were dirt poor, had no life-saving techniques, and their magical tools were basically junk. Acting tough often meant courting death—who isn’t born of a mother, who isn’t afraid of dying?

　　Grace Foster was completely speechless.

　　No matter how powerful she was as a cultivator, faced with such a shameless rogue, what could she do?

　　Grace Foster utterly despised Eric Clark. Luckily, this guy wasn’t a member of the Zhu family, one of the Four Great Clans of the South Sea. Otherwise, just that one line—“I’m afraid of dying”—would have disgraced the entire clan.

　　A person shouldn’t be this shameless!

　　She took a deep breath and said, “You dare defy your master’s orders? Have you forgotten the academy’s rules?”

　　The more shameless Eric Clark was, the more relentless Grace Foster became.

　　Such a scoundrel, yet he went around spreading rumors about being engaged to her, ruining her reputation. If they were outside the academy, she’d kill him with a single sword strike.

　　But now, at the South Sea Cultivation Academy, she couldn’t break the rules—but she absolutely couldn’t let him off.

　　Today, she had to deal with him!

　　Eric Clark’s lips curled into a slight smile. “Master Foster is supremely skilled, an innate cultivator, exuding dominance. With a single thought or a wisp of sword energy, people like me would be dead in an instant. The academy’s rules require disciples to obey their masters, but nowhere does it say a master can order a disciple to die!

　　On this point, I’m willing to go to the Discipline Hall and explain to the elder myself, or we can go together to reason it out!”

　　A glint flashed in Grace Foster’s eyes as she stared hard at Eric Clark.

　　She realized this kid was very sharp, had seen through her intentions, and definitely wouldn’t fall for her tricks. Using force alone wouldn’t work.

　　Her thoughts turned, and her expression softened. “What a joke. I may be an innate cultivator, but how could I possibly use my divine sense or sword energy against you? Besides, as your master, would I be the first to break the rules? You’re at the third level of acquired cultivation, so I’ll restrict my own cultivation as well.

　　Today, we’re studying the basics of talisman sword control, not any advanced techniques!”

　　At this, her expression turned serious. “As cultivators, we must have courage and spirit, defying the heavens in our practice—how can we shrink back before the fight?”

　　With that, she gestured with her left hand.

　　Eric Clark immediately felt his whole body lighten, and then, as if riding on clouds, he was lifted from his seat and flown straight to the front of the lecture platform.

　　When he landed again, Eric Clark and Grace Foster were already face to face.

　　Eric Clark’s face changed dramatically, and just as he was about to speak, Grace Foster gave him no chance, shouting loudly, “We begin now! Talisman sword control—everyone, watch closely!”