The Principal’s Bewilderment

As the door slowly closed behind me, I narrowed my eyes slightly. The light inside the room was not much brighter than the hallway, remaining dim and oppressive. Moreover, compared to outside, there was a profound chill, as if emanating from the depths of the Nine Nether.

With a touch of reverence, I glanced around the spacious office. It was filled with an astonishing array of swords, each one ancient in style and exuding a formidable sword qi. Surely, this pervasive, chilling aura was the reason for their presence.

Swords are instruments of death, their nature inherently cold and sinister.

I couldn’t recall where I had read such a claim before. Originally, I had dismissed it as the mere fanciful musings of impoverished scholars, chronicling the annals of the pugilistic world. Yet, today, within this room filled with blades and permeated by a profound chill, I distinctly felt the undeniable truth of those words.

After surveying the room, my gaze settled on a massive desk positioned directly opposite the entrance. Upon its surface, amidst the traditional scholarly tools and stacks of documents, lay several short, formidable ancient bronze swords.

Behind the desk, a tall, slender figure was vaguely seated, too distant for me to discern clearly.

As I hesitated, wondering whether to approach, a gentle, aged male voice drifted from afar.

“Child, you’ve arrived. Come, come over here!”

Obeying the summons, I slowly made my way to the imposing desk. Partially obscured by a slight disarray of documents, I finally saw the person seated behind it.

He was a tall, gaunt man. His white hair, somewhat disheveled, was loosely tied at the back of his head, and his brows and beard were entirely white, his face etched with wrinkles.

Through silver-rimmed round spectacles, his eyes gleamed with piercing intensity, and a formidable sword qi emanated from his person.

Despite wearing a casual plaid shirt with sleeves half-rolled to his elbows, a stark contrast to his neighbor, Secretary Feng Tian’er, who was impeccably dressed in formal attire, this elder’s appearance bordered on slovenly. Yet, on this old man, it somehow projected an aura of immense authority, as if he could command the martial world and sweep across the land.

Even more striking, the expression in his eyes was remarkably benevolent and serene. As I approached, he offered a slight smile, casually set down the pen he had been using to review documents, and extended a hand slightly. Indicating a chair in front of his desk, he gently bade me, “Sit!”

I immediately complied, taking the seat. Though my spirit was awed and inclined to submission by the palpable aura he exuded, I wasn’t particularly nervous; instead, I felt a peculiar sense of ease.

Once seated, facing those keen, flickering eyes, I felt a slight awkwardness. Nevertheless, my curiosity was piqued, and I couldn’t help but scrutinize him intently.

This elder was none other than Dugu Sheng, the current Principal of Tianwu University. Renowned throughout the martial world, he had reigned supreme for nearly two decades, hailed as the foremost expert under heaven, the invincible Principal Dugu. He was also the head of the Dugu Family, Tianwu University’s preeminent martial arts clan.

It was hardly surprising for such an unparalleled senior expert to possess an aura capable of shaking the heavens. However, in Principal Dugu’s case, beyond that initial, impactful presence, his subsequent demeanor felt less imposing, perhaps even less so than my own father.

Of course, the reason for his seemingly lesser intimidation might well be linked to my father’s childhood ‘stick education’. In essence, whenever my father flared his beard and glared, I instinctively tensed up.

This feeling reached its peak with the very first words he uttered, after observing me for a considerable time. The elder, who had initially seemed both formidable and benevolent, scrutinized me from head to toe. His brows furrowed deeper with each passing moment, until he suddenly exclaimed:

“What kind of play is that old monster Dongfang putting on now? He’s been practicing that wicked martial art, the one that requires self-castration, for almost forty or fifty years, hasn’t he?”

“Doesn’t he know that innate supreme yin internal cultivation methods like that are unsuitable for women? Isn’t he just harming this young girl?”

His speaking tone carried a strong, rustic accent, immediately making me wonder. ‘The imperial court has been vigorously promoting Mandarin for years; how did they manage to miss the esteemed Principal of Tianwu University?’ ‘And wait, that’s not right. When he invited me in and told me to sit earlier, he spoke perfect Beijing Mandarin!’

At the same time, this torrent of curses left me utterly bewildered. I could only vaguely discern that the target of his vehement scolding seemed to be my new Master, the previous generation’s Dongfang Bubai, whom I had acknowledged just days ago.

Witnessing his beard bristling and his fury soaring, I couldn’t help but timidly whisper, “Principal Dugu, what are you talking about?”

“What else could I be talking about? I’m talking about your unreliable old monster of a Master… Wait,” he said, his brow furrowing as he looked at me. “Could it be that you, young lady, are not that old monster Dongfang’s disciple? Who exactly are you? And what business does he have sending you to me?”

“I… who am I… my former name… Master told me not to use it anymore… Master said that after he died, I would inherit his title… and be called… Dongfang Bubai…” I answered with some hesitation. “He, he said after he died… I was to take this admission letter and come to Tianwu University to find you…”

His words left him momentarily stunned. After a long silence, he quietly asked, “Young lady, did you say that old monster Dongfang has… has passed away?”

I offered no reply, only lowered my head. Imagining my Master, whose fate remained unknown within the collapsed cavern, a profound sorrow welled within me, and I felt on the verge of tears.

Seeing my distress, Principal Dugu fell silent for another moment. Then, he spoke again, “So, you truly are his disciple… but what on earth was that old monster Dongfang thinking? The Sunflower Manual is an innate supreme yin and cold internal cultivation technique; only a man with innate primordial yang can cultivate it. How could a woman possibly be taught such a martial art… Child, he passed this manual on to you, didn’t he?”

I hesitated for a long time, unsure whether to confess honestly, lie and deflect, or perhaps offer a vague, noncommittal response.

Seeing my lowered head and silence, he let out a soft sigh. Then he spoke in a low voice, “So young, yet already so distrustful. Never mind. Even if this martial arts treasure is so sinister and bizarre, there are indeed many in this world who covet it, so it’s good that you’re cautious, young lady. But with me, there’s no need for such caution, is there? Since that old monster Dongfang sent you to me, he must have entrusted you to my care, right? We were once classmates, and even shared a bed back in the day; I wonder if he ever told you… Ah, that old monster has truly given me a difficult task, to have a small girl like you cultivate the Sunflower Manual… it’s truly too preposterous…”

As he spoke these serious words, his tone, surprisingly, reverted to standard Mandarin!