However, the furnishings in the main hall were very simple. There were only a dozen or so seats, each with a low table in front of it, and in each corner of the hall stood a person-tall vase. There were no other decorations, making the entire hall appear especially lofty and spacious.

Eric Bolton himself didn’t know why he had agreed to come to Wuchuan Academy with Michael King. Perhaps it was out of curiosity—James Lee was clearly a figure of ambition and cunning, so why was he also a teacher at Wuchuan Academy? Who exactly had founded Wuchuan Academy as an educational institution?

But maybe he was more interested in Michael King. After all, Andrew Carter seemed almost godlike, while Michael King was much more down-to-earth. Through Michael King, he could learn something about the martial arts of the Sui dynasty.

How could Sui dynasty generals wield weapons weighing forty or fifty jin, and then there was Andrew Carter’s phoenix-winged, gold-inlaid halberd, which weighed at least over two hundred jin—he found it simply unbelievable.

Countless mysteries lingered in Eric Bolton’s mind. He longed to understand everything behind them, to the point that he had almost forgotten he had personally killed James Lee.

Unconsciously, Eric Bolton walked past a small door beside the guest hall and entered another residence. Ahead was a corridor; on the right side of the corridor were two rooms, and on the left was a small courtyard paved with blue bricks and stone. A few wintersweet trees in the corner were nearly withered, their pale yellow petals turning grayish-yellow.

But Eric Bolton was more interested in the two rooms. Each room was neatly arranged with twenty single seats—called ping—with a small table on each, holding brush, ink, paper, and inkstone.

At the front was a wide seat, slightly higher than the twenty seats below.

These two rooms were clearly classrooms. Eric Bolton saw that one of the doors was unlocked, so he curiously pushed it open and walked in.

The room was very quiet, not a single person inside. There were no reserved assignments on the tables, as if no one had been here for a long time. The teacher’s desk was covered with a thin layer of dust.

At this moment, Eric Bolton noticed a sheet of hemp paper pasted on the wall behind the teacher’s seat, with a line written on it: ‘Discuss the necessity of the Liaodong campaign.’

This seemed to be a policy essay question. Eric Bolton couldn’t help but laugh. Just a few months ago, he had been debating this very topic at the military academy, and he hadn’t expected to see the same question appear fourteen hundred years ago.

“Who are you?” Suddenly, a young woman’s voice came from behind him.

Eric Bolton turned around and saw a young girl standing at the door, dressed in black warrior’s attire, about 1.7 meters tall, with long legs and a very well-proportioned figure.

Perhaps because her clothes were pure black, her skin looked especially fair. She had a pretty, oval-shaped face, bright red and full lips, a straight nose, and elegant eyebrows arched like slender moons. Beneath her brows were a pair of gem-like eyes, exceptionally bright. She looked only sixteen or seventeen, but her every movement carried an indescribable air of maturity and decisiveness.

Eric Bolton had always thought that women of the Sui and Tang dynasties only wore long skirts, not pants, but the black-clad girl before him was wearing long, baggy lantern pants, the cuffs tied with thin cords—somewhat like the style worn by women in West Asia.

Eric Bolton was so focused on the Sui dynasty women’s clothing that he forgot to answer her question.

“I asked, who are you?”

The girl’s elegant brows furrowed slightly. She didn’t like people who were slow to respond. This young man was tall and upright, but he was like a block of wood.

Eric Bolton quickly bowed and said, “I am Eric Bolton, a friend of Michael King.”

“How could he bring outsiders into Wuchuan Academy at will?”

The girl was a bit displeased. “Since you’re a guest, you should wait in the guest hall. This is a restricted area—guests are not allowed to enter at will!”

The girl’s overbearing manner made Eric Bolton a little annoyed. Michael King had clearly told him he could look around freely, so how had it become a restricted area? Where was the sign for a restricted area? If it really was restricted, wouldn’t Michael King know? Clearly, this girl was just making things up!

And no matter what kind of place this Wuchuan Academy was, he was still a guest. A scholarly family should be even more humble and courteous—what kind of academy treated guests like this?

However, Eric Bolton didn’t want to make things difficult for Michael King, so he didn’t mention that Michael King had suggested he look around. He apologized, “I’m very sorry. I shouldn’t have come in so rashly. I’ll leave right away!”

“Hmph! You trespassed into the restricted area of Wuchuan Academy, and you think you can just leave like that?” the girl said coldly.

Eric Bolton hadn’t wanted to make a fuss, but the girl’s repeated aggressiveness finally made him lose his patience.

“If this is a restricted area, it should be clearly marked as such, and the door should be closed to prevent guests from entering by mistake. I admit I shouldn’t have wandered around—that’s my fault, and I’m willing to sincerely apologize. But doesn’t the host have any responsibility? Since it’s right next to the guest hall and the courtyard gate is wide open, it’s clearly the host’s own negligence, yet all the blame is pushed onto the guest. What kind of hospitality is that?”

“How dare you!” The girl was furious and put her hand on her sword hilt.

“Chuchen!”

A hoarse, elderly voice came from the side. An old man with white hair and beard appeared in the courtyard. His hair was like silver threads, flowing over his shoulders, and he had the youthful face of an old immortal. With his hands behind his back, the old man said to the girl, “This young man is right. It was our own lack of proper arrangements. We can’t blame the guest. You may go!”

“Yes, foster father.”