Volume 2, Chapter 3 – Storming the Dojo

How dare she say that?

Not only the bespectacled female reporter; every reporter who had followed was spooked by Bai Xiang’s words.

Did she have any idea what kind of shockwave that clip would cause if it aired?

Some of those Sword‑Track students were princes and nobles!

And to question the numbers as fake, in public—wasn’t that trampling the faces of the relevant bureaus…of everyone?

Bai Xiang didn’t care what they thought. Seeing them frightened into falling back, she went straight up the steps and walked to the dojo gate.

She frowned the moment she arrived.

In her memory, the bluestone path was always lush, little grasses and moss clinging to the edges. Now, never mind the edges—even the middle was plastered with muddy footprints.

And the camphor grove beside it—the outer ring of bamboo had been snapped in half, and inside the woods there were plenty of signs of trampling and vandalism.

“Don’t run… don’t run!”

Right then, two schoolboys with backpacks burst out of the trees, one brandishing a bamboo stick, play‑fighting like swordsmen.

“Eh?”

They saw Bai Xiang—her outfit, the long sword on her back. The bolder one stepped up and asked, “Miss, are you here to challenge the dojo like those other people?”

“‘Storm… the dojo?’” Bai Xiang drew out the words and, rare for her, showed a pleasant smile. “Can you tell me what’s going on?”

What was that feeling!?

Her smile was beautiful, yet the boys felt a chill through body and mind. They didn’t dare fool around and hurriedly laid out the whole story.

“It’s that! That… the TV reported that the grandpa here was going to duel some other big sister!” one boy said. “Then tons and tons of people… all came here wanting to challenge! To stick up for that big sister!”

“Oh…” Bai Xiang drew the word out even longer. “I see.”

“Do me a favor—who are they?”

“Seems like… Huanxi Sword Dao… and Swift Rain Sword Dao…” the boy began counting on his fingers.

Rеαⅾ оn KαtReaⅾіոɡСafe

“And, and! Also White Crane Sword Dao! Flying Feather Sword Dao!” the other blurted. “Those are the named ones! Looks like almost every strong one in the Circuit City came!”

“You won’t be mad at us, right, miss?” the first boy asked nervously. “Sorry to bother you—we live nearby… We never dared come up before, but with so many people here, we came to play…”

Pretty quick on the uptake.

Bai Xiang had meant to lecture them, but seeing that, she let it go—and decided on another way to make the two little rascals pay a price.

She took their bamboo rods, drew “Feixiang Heaven,” and with a wrist‑vibration sent a flurry of blade‑shadows—the next blink had carved two fine bamboo swords.

“Hit someone’s head, hard, with the flat side—it can open their wits.” She handed the bamboo swords back. “Remember: only once.”

Delighted with their swords, the boys scampered down the steps. Bai Xiang slipped into the woods and made a sweep, found six cameras set to cover the gate and walls, plus several hidden lenses wedged in trunk crevices—and smashed them, one by one.

When she’d finished, she looked at the dojo’s closed gate, at the dozen deep gouges etched into the metal ring and the stone carving beside it. The light in her eyes grew colder.

If I go back now, it’ll take a lot to explain to Grandfather—maybe even to convince him.

Then why not do both at once?

With that thought, Bai Xiang turned and headed down instead.

“Do we even dare air this…”

“We can’t… What if it lands on you? You know better than me how those big shots are…”

A pack of reporters stood at the foot of the stairs, faces knotted—sitting on a huge story and unable to use it. Hearing footsteps, they looked up—why was that crazy girl coming back down?

One cameraman reflexively lifted his rig to shoot.

Bai Xiang raised a hand to the hilt on her back—and they swore that was all she did—then their ears filled with a sharp hum.

Twang—~~~~~

Crash!

The camera less than half a meter from her exploded out of nowhere, falling to pieces at the operator’s feet.

Rеaⅾ oո KаtRеαdiոɡСаfe

“…”

“…”

That settled it—they knew she was not to be messed with.

They hurriedly stepped back, careful not to block the reaper’s path.

“You need news. I need a car,” Bai Xiang said, fixing on the boldest, the bespectacled woman. “We can cooperate—for now.”

The reporter blinked, then her eyes lit with color.

She didn’t know what Bai Xiang intended, but her reporter’s instincts screamed bigger news ahead. She hurriedly waved the crew to bring the car, yanked open the back door, and let Bai Xiang in.

“I’m Wang Lim!” The reporter slid into the driver’s seat. “Named after that famous foreign reporter… Where to?”

“Huanxi Sword Dao,” Bai Xiang said.

The name made both the reporter and the cameraman in the passenger seat shudder hard.

Huanxi Sword Dao?

As media who’d been following this from the start, they knew too well… in recent days, certain people had crossed lines—unethical, even outrageous.

The Shenming Dojo’s chief disciple, and the first thing she did on returning was head for Huanxi Sword Dao?

The intent was obvious.

Hell yes. Do it!

The gas pedal hit the floor; the news van’s tires screamed.

This chance was too rare. She dreamed of being a “great reporter”—miss it now and she’d regret it for life!

Morning, Huanxi Sword Dao.

Pei Jian, forty and in his prime, had eaten early. Wearing a loose robe, he headed to the yard to see how the new disciples were training.

Reaԁ oո КаtRеаԁiոɡСafе

Before he even saw anyone, shouts came over the wall from the other side.

Good, good.

Pei Jian stroked his beard in satisfaction.

Though he could hear the flaws and greenness, experience and skill could be built up. Diligence was the first key to one’s future path—he was very pleased with the trend.

Of course, not just diligence; you needed a touch of talent and the ability to seize chances.

Thinking of that, he felt proud of his recent moves.

Bai Shengju and Liu Mengqing were at each other’s throats; anyone in the scene knew the two houses had a grudge from the start.

Now the Bai clan was in decline, the Liu clan ascendant. What he’d done might look like kicking them when they were down, but this jianghu… hadn’t it always been this way?

“Father!”

A short‑haired teen in training garb came running over, excitement spilling over his face.

“More sign‑ups!”

“Going after the Shenming Dojo really works!”

“Even if they don’t accept a fight, the name’s out!”

“Mm!” Pei Jian beamed at the boy. “Xuan’er, you need to see the lesson here.”

“Lesson?”

“Weakness is original sin!”

Pei Jian’s face hardened.

“It’s nature—survival of the fittest!”

“The weak are born with a stain. If they carry humility, they might survive; but if they can’t read the field and insist on a strongman’s posture—aloof, posing—then they end up like the Bai clan: beyond redemption!”

Reаd οn КatRеаⅾіոɡCαfe

“But, Father…” Pei Xuan’s brows knit. “I heard that Bai Xiang has made connections with several big figures…”

“Eh—!” Pei Jian lifted a hand, smiling even brighter.

“You think your father doesn’t know?”

“Look how many are lining up to back that duel and you’ll see. In these matters, Lord Xu and the rest don’t have the final say—”

“You mean what we’re doing is offering our fealty to the other side?”

The boy’s eyes lit.

“At court—did the ‘New Affairs’ faction win out in the end?”

“Can’t say, can’t say…”

Pei Jian stroked his beard with a squinting smile, keeping his son in suspense.

Bang—!!!

A sudden crash sounded outside.

Pei Jian’s hand jerked; he plucked out a few smooth strands of beard.

“…Who’s there!?”

Anger rising, Pei Jian pressed a hand to the sword at his waist and strode like a dragon into the yard—only to see that the fine wooden gate opposite was half hanging askew, the other half lying pitifully on the ground.

His disciples stared, and outside a crowd gaped.

A white‑haired ponytailed girl in a black skintight combat suit, tactical guards at chest and joints, stood just inside the gate. Across the yard and its hundreds of disciples, she cupped her fist in salute.

“Bai Xiang of Shenming.”

“Dao Lord Pei, draw your sword.”