World's Best Martial Artist

Chapter 257: On This Very Day Last Year, Between These Very Doors

The moment they exited the Energy Tunnels.

Many students in the team were sobbing quietly.

The Vice-chancellor had died in battle!

Many other instructors had died in the Catacombs too, as well as some of their classmates and comrades.

There were originally more than 20 students at ranks higher than Upper-stage Rank-3. All it took was one mission, one battle where they defended the city, and now there were only 15 left.

...

Outside the alloy house.

Only one guard remained out of the original two. The fellow with the scar on his face was not there.

The man who had promised to come with Fang Ping to demolish the alloy guardhouse after the Catacombs were defeated was now gone.

Fang Ping had an epiphany. He looked at the other guard whose mind seemed to be elsewhere, and prompted softly, “The scar-faced uncle...”

“He said he was going to capture a Catacombs lass.”

The guard, who looked somewhat alone, said with a chuckle, “That guy, he always wanted to capture a Catacomb lass and tame her. Now he’s finally going to be satisfied.”

Fang Ping did not know if the scar-faced man had merely entered the Catacombs or had died there. He did not ask any more questions, though.

Too many people had died in the last few days.

The group cleared the way in front of the entrance. Countless martial artists still came through, but there were no lower-rank martial artists in their midst, only high-rank ones.

When they climbed out from underground, an unknown powerhouse up in the air sang at the top of his voice, “On this very day last year, between these very doors, you were blushing as prettily as the cherry blossoms. Now they still bloom cheerily in the very same place, but where you’ve gone no one knows...”（T/N: This is a famous Chinese poem named “Written in a Village South of the Capital”, penned in the Tang dynasty by poet Cui Hu.)

...

Fang Ping did not know who that powerhouse was mourning for.

Was it for his family, or his lover, or for those Grandmasters who had died in battle?

When those old, wizened, injured Grandmasters entered the Catacombs, all of them knew that they would not return!

“Grandmasters...” Fang Ping muttered as he stepped out of the barracks. Was this what being a Grandmaster meant?

...

MCMAU.

When Fang Ping and the others hobbled into MCMAU, a large crowd of instructors and students from the special training class were waiting outside the gates.

They saluted Fang Ping and the others wordlessly, showing them the highest respect.

The team straightened their backs and reciprocated.

The dean of the School of Social Sciences led the reception party. Out of MCMAU’s four Grandmasters, three were in the Catacombs, while another was in Nanjiang. There were no Grandmasters in MCMAU right now.

Three of the four MCMAU deans were also in the Catacombs. The only one left to guard MCMAU was Chen Zhenhua, the dean of the School of Social Sciences.

“The Vice-chancellor and the others...”

Students in the team wept quietly Someone said, tears streaming down his face, “The Vice-chancellor has...been killed in battle.”

“Instructors Wu Jiangping, Lan Yuru, and Zhou Heran...they were killed, too.”

Chen Zhenhua’s face turned several shades paler. Someone in the crowd quietly choked back a sob.

“It’s good that you’re back...” Chen Zhenhua murmured. He turned away and said, “Go home and rest well. Recover from your injuries. Be well...”

As soon as he left, the old man wept, tears falling like rain.

He should have known. He should have been mentally prepared for this.

But...it had been sixty years!

The old Vice-chancellor who had so painstakingly protected and nurtured MCMAU for sixty years was now gone without a trace or a word. How could he possibly get over this?

This was a tragedy for MCMAU and humanity!

...

On this day, all of MCMAU was shrouded in sorrow.

When word got out from the Catacombs about the deaths that had occurred, those who were in the know mourned deeply.

Seven Grandmasters had died in the Catacombs!

Nothing was left of them after their battle with Sky Gate City’s seven powerhouses. They had fought in the Catacombs, died in the Catacombs, and were now buried in the Catacombs.

...

Fang Ping refused to go to the infirmary, as his injuries were minor. From the moment he exited the Catacombs, all he wanted to do was to sleep for a while.

He wanted to forget about the Catacombs, forget about the humans still battling down there, and forget about his comrades who had died in battle.

He had not been able to remain there until the fighting ended so he could look for the corpses of his instructors and friends.

He did not even qualify to take part in the final battle for no reason other than he was too weak!

Even if he could kill a Rank-4 martial artist, he was still not powerful enough.

In the Catacombs, even Grandmasters might die. What right did he have to insist on staying when he was only an inconsequential Rank-3 student?

The past ten days had been the longest ten days he had ever experienced in this life.

The MCMAU students had been allowed to leave because many others regarded them as seeds that might bloom and grow into Grandmasters someday—seeds that had to be preserved.

What about the martial artists in the Military Department?

What about the civilians?

...

Fang Ping did not cultivate. He fell asleep instantly as soon as his head touched the pillow, not caring about his aching muscles or the stink of sweat and blood clinging to him.

He wanted to forget about what had happened down there in the Catacombs!

Grief was for the weak. He did not need it. What he needed was to become stronger so that he could raze the Catacombs to the ground once and for all. That was the best way to mourn.

...

Even after he awoke, Fang Ping did not feel refreshed. All he could feel was how much his body ached.

The morning sun illuminated the room. It was the first time he had ever appreciated the sun’s beauty.

He got up from his bed and walked to the window.

Outside, birds were singing and flowers were blooming. All of this was like a paradise in his dreams.

“Everything’s like a dream...” Fang Ping murmured. Some students were exercising downstairs.

Someone spotted him standing by the window and shouted, “President!”

“Good morning, President!”

“The President is back!”

These members of the Ping Yuan Club were not strong enough. They did not know about the Catacombs. They only knew that many students from their school were out on missions. Th1s chapter is updated by n)ovel/\bin/\

They did not know that seven Grandmasters had died in one day, in a place they knew nothing about.

The government did not announce this to the masses, at least, not at this time.

If civilians found out that seven Grandmasters from Sino Nation had died in battle on the same day, how terrified would they be?

To the masses, Grandmasters were the embodiment of Heaven. They were invincible.

The public would only hear of the Catacombs for the first time on the morrow. Only then would the humans who had died in the Catacombs be given due recognition, but what would be left of them by then, aside from an unfamiliar name?

It was truly a tragedy for their family and lovers to believe fervently that they were still alive when in reality they had left this world long ago.

Those who stood guard over the Catacombs were the most honorable of humans, yet they were also the most humble of humans.

Fang Ping emerged from his thoughts in a slight daze and nodded in response to the people downstairs.

...

Fang Ping bathed and changed into a fresh set of clothes.

He felt slightly lost as he walked out of his dormitory, all cleaned up. What should he do now?

After some thought, he made his way to the logistics department.

The only instructor he knew in the sprawling MCMAU campus was Old Man Li, or so it seemed.

The logistics department saw fewer people by the day.

The seniors had graduated and the freshmen were not here yet. Most of the instructors had gone down to the Catacombs. The Rank-3 students were either recovering or cultivating, and some Rank-1 and Rank-2 students had already left for the summer.

Not many people were around on campus.

Old Man Li was still there, though.

He was not smoking his own tobacco. He had procured a tub of peanuts from who-knows-where and was snacking on them with his alcohol.

At Fang Ping’s arrival, Old Man Li looked up and eyed him. He chuckled, “Have some?”

“Instructor...”

Old Man Li did not wait for him to finish before interjecting self-deprecatingly, “They’re all down there, aside from this old coot. Tsk, tsk, the Vice-chancellor really overestimated my capabilities. He told me to wait until I became a Grandmaster.

“Hahaha, if I could, I would have done that long ago!

“Was the Vice-chancellor afraid that I would die in the Catacombs?

“The old bastard’s already dead and yet he’s still worrying about who will die and who won’t. Overly concerned, if you ask me.”

Old Man Li shook his head with a wistful smile. “Sit down, what are you still standing around for? You looking down on me too?”

“No, I’m not.”

Fang Ping sat down. Old Man Li suddenly swallowed the contents of his glass in one gulp before he sighed, “Did you know? Eight out of ten instructors here at MCMAU were the Vice-chancellor’s students.”

Fang Ping was startled.

“Can the MCMAU instructors compare with the bigshots in local government? With the regional governors? With the generals in the Military Department?”

Old Man Li shook his head, uttering a short laugh. “No!”

“To be brutally frank, the MCMAU instructors are stronger and more capable than some of those officials, but they earn way less because they remain in MCMAU.

“Why do they stay?

“Because of the Vice-chancellor!

“MCMAU was founded 60 years ago. The school had nothing then. Don’t even talk about comparing it to CCMAU; it couldn’t even match up to the other martial arts universities out there.

“The Vice-chancellor was from the first batch of students. There was no four-year school system then though.

“He went to school for a year and worked as one of the assistant instructors. He became an instructor in his second year here.

“His mentor was the first Vice-chancellor. That one died early, though, and he wasn’t that strong; he was only Rank-5 at the time of his death.

“He was killed in battle a few years after MCMAU was founded.

“There weren’t many powerhouses back then, and almost all of them weren’t willing to become Vice-chancellor of a martial arts university—much less one so recently founded.

“And so...after a train of coincidences, the Vice-chancellor was entrusted with the responsibility during a critical time, not long after he achieved breakthrough to Rank-4

“He was only 25. A 25-year-old Vice-chancellor...the other martial arts universities honestly didn’t bother to give MCMAU the time of day.

“The Vice-chancellor was extremely gifted. By then the Magic City Catacombs had appeared. His biggest dream was to make MCMAU a strong school capable of holding its own against the Catacombs.

“You’ve entered the Catacombs, so you know how strong the martial artists there are. Imagine how far-fetched the Vice-chancellor’s dream seemed!

“He made it his lifelong goal, though, working hard for the last few decades just to realize this ambition. He taught a lot of students. If you were one of them, you’d know he was a crafty old bastard. Every day he’d tell us how admirable it was to be an instructor...”

A smile appeared on Old Man Li’s face. He chuckled, “I remember he used to brainwash us, telling us that being an instructor was better than being an officer. An instructor, as the word implied, was a person who would instruct and guide someone on how to live their life. They were more admirable, and commanded more respect than those high-and-mighty officers...

“Just imagine, we were all impressionable young people in our twenties, hot-blooded to a fault. How could we resist all his daily persuasions?

“We looked down on officers and businessmen. Our only thought was to stay here after graduation and become instructors.

“I didn’t want to stay on in MCMACU when I graduated, but that shameless old man looked up my parents. He told them how high a university instructor’s status was and how well instructors were treated...then he beat me up and told me that he would break my legs if I dared to leave...

“Partly due to his coercion and partly due to deception, I stayed on like a befuddled fool and became an instructor.”

This was the first time Fang Ping realized that Old Man Li had been the Vice-chancellor’s student!

He did not interrupt the other man, however.

Old Man Li’s narrative was becoming more disjointed as he delved deep into his memories. He laughed, “The last few years, he used all sorts of tactics to persuade many students to stay and become instructors. That’s how MCMAU became part of the Big Two and that’s why it continues to thrive today.

“It’s a pity, though, that the reality is quite far from what he envisioned—MCMAU as a school that could push the Catacombs back on its own.

“He himself suffered many serious injuries from constantly being in battle. He was close to dying even when his body hadn’t disintegrated into ashes.

“His wounds weren’t just physical. All that fighting took its toll on his mental state as well.

“In the past turbulent sixty years, most of his students died in the Catacombs. Even if he didn’t say so, he was undoubtedly distraught.

“He had already been preparing himself to fight to the death in Nanjiang when the Catacombs entrance opened there, along with some other seniors. I thought...I thought we’d have a bit longer.

“But then the situation in the Magic City Catacombs worsened. The old bastard couldn’t wait, so he hurried down there to his death...”

Old Man Li downed another glass of alcohol. He shook his head and said, as if unable to decide whether he should be happy or sad, “Well, he’s dead. I knew this day would come, but I didn’t expect it to come so soon. He died happy, but didn’t he consider what would become of his dream after his death?

“A school capable of wiping out one of the Catacombs...hahaha, we can’t even deal with a single city!

“The old man was good at boasting from sixty years ago until now, but he only managed to finish off a Rank-8. How pathetic!

“We’re pathetic too, for not helping him realize his dream...”

Old Man Li laughed and laughed until tears streamed down his face. 40 years—he had been in MCMAU for 40 years and taught with the old man for 40 years. He was going to miss him!

‘I thought that I would die first. You’ve had so many students die before you anyway, you should have gotten used to it early on.

‘But now you’ve died before me. You’ve been my first and only mentor. My mentor, not my instructor!’

Fang Ping wordlessly topped up Old Man Li’s glass.

Old Man Li downed the entire glass again, his expression slowly returning to normal. He chuckled faintly, “If he died, so be it. I’m so old I should be over this by now.

“I’ve said so much to you it’s embarrassing. I even cried! Don’t you tell anyone, or I’ll send you to your death with one slap!”

“I won’t.”

“Tell me, how’s the situation down in the Catacombs now?”

“When we came out, the combined efforts of the two cities had been thwarted and pushed back. We’ve already killed many Catacombs martial artists and ordinary troops...”

Fang Ping gave a basic rundown of the situation. Old Man Li inclined his head slightly and said, “The situation’s not getting that much worse. We should be able to counter it. There are only two cities; Sino Nation has the ability to defeat them, unlike in Tiannan. Our defenses collapsed because Sino Nation didn’t erect a military stronghold over there like Hope City.

“As for Magic City, five cities would have to join forces to conquer it, but...both sides would suffer serious casualties.

“We’ve killed two of the main marshals of Sky Gate City and five higher-rank generals, so Sky Gate City’s the least of our worries now.

“As far as East Sunflower City goes, they’ve only deployed 4 of their higher-rank martial artists so far. Unless they go all out next time, the battle will be mainly between middle and lower-rank martial artists.”

Abruptly Old Man Li said, “Boy, your generation’s going to have even more trouble!”

Fang Ping’s face showed his confusion. Old Man Li gave a minute shake of his head. “Our generation’s fought primarily against Sky Gate City. Now that it’s suffered serious losses, those two cities might merge or even join forces.

“That means you’ll no longer face the martial artists from Sky Gate City, whom you’re more familiar with, but the martial artists from East Sunflower City.

“The battlefield won’t be merely the 100 square li in and around Hope City, it’ll extend to an area 500 li wide.

“What this implies is that it’s getting more dangerous.

“Your generation might very well be the main defense against them in the future. That’s why there’s going to be more pressure on you.”

Fang Ping said in a low voice, “The Catacombs will be conquered, regardless of when it will happen. I’m also hoping that the Catacombs can be dealt with in our generation. I don’t want our descendants to risk their lives in battle against the Catacombs decades later like we’re doing now!”

“Yes...back then, we wanted to see that happen too...”

Old Man Li smiled, self-deprecating. They had hoped for that as well but the results...well, they were less than desirable.

They had battled for decades, but their enemies had not been destroyed. Not only that, their numbers had also increased, and they were becoming more and more of a threat.

Could humans really triumph against the other side?

At this point, many people were probably unsure of the outcome.

Old Man Li stopped speaking, sipping at his alcohol morosely. The old generation of martial artists had almost all died out by now. It did not matter whether they were Rank-7, 8, or 9...not a single one of them had died peacefully at a ripe old age!

The most amusing thing was that Old Man Li and the others did not know for sure how long a powerhouse’s lifespan lasted.

Immortality was what ancient martial artists pursued, but in the modern world, this still had not happened.

Most of the Rank-9 powerhouses had injuries from battling underground year after year. If they felt that they were past their prime, they would go down deep into the Catacombs and not return.

What were the depths of the Catacombs like?

Even someone like him, a Peak Rank-6 martial artist with no hope of becoming a Grandmaster, would not just sit and wait for death to come. Peak Rank-6 martial artists either achieved breakthrough or died in battle. None of them died of old age in their beds.

Old Man Li fell silent. Fang Ping sat in silence too, his mind drifting far away.