The Great Song Dynasty: You were put in charge of teaching, and you produced a whole bunch of prime

The bloodstains on the stone path in front of the academy were still wet.

Sun Chang and his gang ran faster than rabbits, leaving behind only shattered jade pendants, torn handkerchiefs, and a few lonely shoes.

Yelü Hongji shook his hand, still not quite satisfied. He turned around and looked at Jiang Lin, who was still leisurely fanning himself, his brows furrowing into a deep frown.

"Headmaster," Yelü Hongji pointed to the empty street, "this is what you call 'public opinion studies'? Isn't this just fighting? I do this every day in the Liao Dynasty, and I don't need to pay 50,000 strings of cash!"

He felt he might have been tricked.

Jiang Lin closed the folding fan and gently tapped Yelü Hongji's chest muscles, which were as solid as granite, with the fan ribs, making a "tap tap" sound.

"Your Highness, to understand a problem, one must look beyond the surface and see its essence."

Jiang Lin pointed to the desolate street, a playful smile playing on his lips: "This isn't called fighting, this is called 'physical noise reduction'."

"Physics...noise reduction?" Yelü Hongji looked blank.

"The public sphere is like a big stage. If there are a thousand ducks quacking in the audience, no matter how well you sing on stage, no one will hear you."

Jiang Lin patiently guided him, as if teaching a stubborn child, "If you want your voice to become the truth, the first step is not to shout loudly, but to shut those ducks up."

Yelü Hongji was stunned for a moment, then slapped his forehead with his large, fan-like hand: "I understand! As long as we cripple all those who oppose us, what I say becomes the only truth!"

Jiang Lin's eye twitched slightly.

Although this understanding is a bit simplistic and crude, it's not wrong in a certain sense.

"You're a promising student." Jiang Lin nodded with satisfaction, just about to add a few more words on this "violent aesthetics" when the system panel suddenly popped up in front of him.

[Warning: Reputation value has triggered a backlash; malicious acquisition attempts targeting the host's core assets have been detected.]

Hostile takeover?

Jiang Lin raised an eyebrow. Before he could take a closer look, a series of hurried footsteps came from the other end of the corridor.

"Headmaster! Something terrible has happened!"

The man who arrived was running so fast that his hair was askew and he was panting heavily. It was Su Shi's younger brother, Su Zhe. This young man was usually the most composed, but now he was covered in sweat and looked anxious.

"Ziyou, what's the panic?" Jiang Lin said calmly. "Even if the sky falls, Zigao will hold it up."

As he spoke, he glanced at Yelü Hongji, who was two meters tall, standing next to him.

Startled by the fierce-looking Liao deity, Su Zhe steeled himself and rushed to Jiang Lin, saying, "Headmaster, it's not that the sky has fallen, it's that someone is trying to uproot our newspaper!"

"Just now, someone in Fanlou set up a 'Final Challenge' arena, specifically challenging my elder brother by name!"

"That man declared that the *Da Song Daily* was a form of sorcery, and unless Su Zizhan could match his couplet, the newspaper would have to hand over all the blueprints and craftsmen for its printing workshop, and publicly admit that the headmaster was a fraud!"

"If we cannot provide the answer, the *Great Song Daily* will have no place in Bianjing City!"

The air inside the courtyard froze instantly.

Su Shi, who had been standing to the side, lost his smile.

It's common for scholars to belittle each other. But to use his talent as a gamble to seize his mentor's property touched a nerve with Su Shi.

"This is outrageous!"

Su Shi took a sudden step forward, his sleeves billowing in the wind. His usual playful and carefree demeanor vanished, replaced by a sharp and indomitable spirit: "I, Su Zizhan, have studied for twenty years and have never been afraid of anyone! I'm going to Fanlou right now to tear their mouths apart!"

"stop."

Jiang Lin's voice wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable authority.

Su Shi paused, then turned back urgently, saying, "Headmaster! They're after movable type printing! That's our lifeline, how can we..."

"Since you know they're after your technology, do you think they'll fight an unprepared battle?" Jiang Lin interrupted him, his eyes gradually turning cold.

This is a trap.

The emergence of newspapers has threatened the interests of too many people. The old fogies at the Imperial Academy are merely cannon fodder on the surface; the real wolves are only now showing their fangs.

Since the other party dared to gamble, they must have an absolute trump card in their hand. It might even be a dead end with no matching card at all.

"This kind of flowery stuff is so boring," Yelü Hongji yawned, his face full of disdain. "Headmaster, how about I take some men and tear down that Fanlou restaurant? That's much faster than matching couplets."

Jiang Lin turned around, looked at the impatient and violent prince, and suddenly smiled.

He smiled like an old fox who had spotted a fat sheep.

"My disciple, the lesson we just learned was called 'Physical Noise Reduction.' Now, your master will take you to the second lesson."

Jiang Lin walked up to Yelü Hongji, straightened his wild collar, and said softly, "This lesson is called—using someone else's power to kill."

"Leveraging external forces?" Yelü Hongji frowned.

"Stabbing someone in the body and causing blood to splatter five steps is a last resort." Jiang Lin turned around and looked in the direction of Fanlou, his gaze deep and unfathomable. "The real killing move is to ruin your opponent's reputation with a few words, and make them kneel on the ground thanking you for your magnanimity."

"This is what we need to learn: the art of verbal combat."

Yelü Hongji's eyes lit up.

Disgrace and ruin? Kneeling and thanking?

This sounds like it's more interesting than just beheading someone.

"Interesting." Yelü Hongji grinned, revealing a set of gleaming white teeth. "I'm taking this lesson!"

Jiang Lin unfolded his folding fan with a whoosh and instructed Su Shi and Su Zhe, "Don't rush off to your deaths. Ziyou, go to the newspaper office first and stop all the woodblock printing masters from working."

"Print an urgent edition and plaster it all over the streets and alleys of Bianjing within half an hour."

Su Zhe was taken aback: "Print what?"

Jiang Lin narrowed his eyes and said, enunciating each word clearly, "It is hereby sealed—by Crown Prince Yelü Hongji of Liao, who admires the literary achievements of the Song Dynasty and hereby dedicates this battle as a testament to the 'Song-Liao cultural exchange.' Anyone who dares to cheat on the stage is destroying diplomatic relations between the two countries and is a traitor to the Song Dynasty!"

Su Zhe gasped.

This is about to escalate a gambling duel into a diplomatic incident!

With this serious charge attached, if the other party dares to use any underhanded tactics, or even if the person who set the question dares to win, they will have to think twice about whether they can bear the crime of disrupting the "Song-Liao peace".

That was a dirty trick.

But it was really awesome!

"I'll go right away!" Su Zhe's face flushed with excitement as he turned and ran off.

Jiang Lin straightened his clothes, glanced at the murderous Su Shi, and then at the eager Yelü Hongji.

A top-tier literary figure on his left, a top-tier henchman on his right.

With this setup, they could walk sideways in Bianjing and no one would dare to stop them.

"Let's go."

Jiang Lin waved his hand and stepped out of the threshold first.

"Go tell those rats hiding in the gutter, if they want war, then let them fight!"

……

Fanlou was the most notorious den of iniquity in Bianjing (Kaifeng).

Today, Fanlou was exceptionally bustling, with its three-story building completely packed with people. The enormous mahogany arena had already been erected, and banners proclaiming "The Right Line of the Literary World" hung all around it.

Behind the carved railing on the second floor stood a middle-aged scholar dressed in brocade robes. He held two iron flasks in his hand, his gaze fixed on the bustling crowd below with a sinister look.

Behind him, several students from the Imperial Academy were whispering and fawning: "Don't worry, sir, that's definitely a unique copy found among ancient fragments. The first line is 'a dead end,' and there's no second line at all. That brat Su Shi is doomed to die today."

The scholar in brocade robes curled into a cold smile as he spun the iron gall bladder in his hand rapidly.

Printing?

Such divine artifacts can only be possessed by aristocratic families. Does Jiang Lin, a mere schoolteacher, even deserve them?

Just then, a commotion suddenly broke out on the outskirts of the crowd.

"He's here! Jiang Lin is here!"

"My God, what kind of monster is that following him?"

The scholar in brocade robes leaned forward, his gaze piercing through the crowd and landing on the young man in white. Then, he saw the group of ferocious Liao warriors behind Jiang Lin, and the Liao crown prince, who was taller than average and had a menacing face.

The scholar in brocade robes suddenly stopped holding the iron gall bladder.

Something's not quite right with this art style.

Jiang Lin walked down to the bottom of the arena, looked up, and his gaze pierced through the distance of dozens of meters, accurately locking onto the scholar in brocade robes upstairs.

The two looked at each other.

Jiang Lin slowly raised his hand, made a throat-slitting gesture, and then revealed an extremely bright smile.

That smile seemed to say:

You've taken the bait.