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

That arrow was too fast; even Niu Aihua couldn't teleport five meters away to block the attack in that instant.

The wolf-tooth arrow, accompanied by a sharp whistling sound that tore through the air, headed straight for Su Shi's nape.

Just when everyone thought that this rising star of the Song Dynasty's literary world was about to fall, leaving behind only a pile of unfinished beggar's chicken recipes—

Su Shi was moved.

To be precise, it was his leg that moved.

Because of maintaining that shameful "roaring to the sky" posture for so long, coupled with extreme fear and excitement, Su Shi's two thick legs, which were bearing the weight of two hundred pounds, suddenly and uncontrollably cramped up.

"Oh my god!"

Su Shi's previously "death-defying" expression instantly crumbled, and he let out a scream that was completely out of character for a star deity. He tripped over his own feet, and like a roly-poly toy that had lost its balance, he slid backward from the slippery wall in an extremely contorted and comical posture, landing with a "plop" on his backside in a classic "wild goose landing on the sand" style.

"Whoosh—!"

That deadly wolf-tooth arrow flew past Su Shi's still-fluttering headscarf, merely severing a single tuft of hair from his head.

However, the crisis was not over.

Even after losing Su Shi as its target, the powerful wolf-tooth arrow continued its trajectory, heading straight for the huge "gas pressurization tank" behind Shen Kuo, which was pieced together from several sheepskin bags and copper tubes.

"No! That's my experimental data!" Shen Kuo let out a scream even more mournful than Su Shi's earlier.

But it was too late.

"Ding!"

The arrow, forged from fine iron, precisely shattered the flimsy copper valve.

Time seemed to freeze for a moment.

"BOOM—!!!"

A roar ten times louder than before resounded through the sky.

A visible white shockwave, mixed with exploding flames, like an enraged fire dragon, lashed back wildly from the direction the arrow had come from—the gap in the wall.

This is not magic; it's a shockwave generated by the expansion of gas.

Outside the wall.

Zhao Liben was still in his archery stance, and before he could wipe the ferocious smile off his face, he felt an overwhelming wave of heat rushing towards him.

"What...what is this...?"

"Bang!"

The immense impact threw him and his horse to the ground. The startled, tall horse neighed, leaving hoofprints all over Prefect Zhao's crimson official robes.

As for the archers and axemen in the front ranks, they were like fallen leaves swept up by a gale, thrown about by the shockwave, their weapons clattering to the ground. The once imposing "Zhao" banner was snapped in half by the shockwave, embedding itself upside down in the mud with a "crack," landing precisely between the legs of the dazed and confused Taoist Master Xuanji. The old Taoist was so frightened that his eyes rolled back and he fainted instantly.

Smoke billowed and flames soared into the sky.

The black smoke from the explosion slowly rose into the air, and due to the swirling airflow, it vaguely formed a shape resembling a giant ghost face, looking down at the disheveled soldiers below.

Inside the Ghost Cry Garden, there was a deathly silence.

Su Shi lay sprawled on the ground, touching his neck and then his buttocks, asking in a tearful voice, "Am I...am I already dead? Why does this underworld smell so strongly of sulfur?"

Shen Kuo crawled out of the pile of scrap metal, covered in dust and dirt, and picked up a fragment with a pained expression: "What a pity, the pressure threshold still hasn't been measured..."

Only Jiang Lin.

He remained seated in the wicker chair, his hair tousled by the blast, his ears ringing from the loud noise, but his hand holding the folding fan remained steady without a tremor.

In fact, he had anticipated this scene.

Jiang Lin slowly stood up and walked to the gap in the wall that had been blown open.

The firelight illuminated his somewhat thin figure, and in the eyes of the still-shaken soldiers outside the wall, he looked more like a god than the fat man who had just been reciting poetry.

Jiang Lin picked up the tin megaphone, its clear, cold sound piercing through the chaotic night sky.

"Prefect Zhao".

Jiang Lin looked down at Zhao Liben, who was struggling to get up from the mud, his tone tinged with pity and mockery.

"I told you long ago, this is Laozi's alchemy furnace."

He stretched out his folding fan, pointed to the "ghost face" of black smoke still swirling in the air, and then pointed to the wreckage of the arrow on the ground.

"How dare you shoot any iron weapon at the Star Lord's physical body?"

"Your arrow has angered the Emperor. This is—the backlash."

"Heavens... divine punishment..."

It's unclear which soldier shouted first, but soon, fear spread like a plague among the crowd.

That arrow just now, instead of killing anyone, triggered such a terrifying thunderous attack. What is this if not a miracle? What is this if not divine punishment?

"Lord Star, spare me! Deity, spare me!"

"I don't want to die! I have an eighty-year-old mother at home!"

The already demoralized soldiers completely collapsed. They dropped their weapons, ignored Zhao Liben's roars, and scrambled to escape, fearing that if they were even a step too late, they would be burned to ashes by the "divine fire".

"Come back! All of you come back! That's sorcery! That's an illusion!"

Zhao Liben, with disheveled hair, waved his whip in an attempt to stop the fleeing army, but was knocked to the ground by several panicked soldiers who stomped on him several times.

He scrambled to his feet, looking at the young man in white robes atop the wall, who appeared like an immortal, and a deep fear finally appeared in his eyes.

He knew he had lost tonight.

Moreover, the loss was inexplicable and utterly devastating.

"Jiang Lin...you just wait! Daming Prefecture...this isn't over yet!"

Zhao Liben gritted his teeth and uttered a harsh remark. With Xue Gang's help, he hurriedly climbed onto a stray warhorse and fled in a sorry state, mingling with the routed army.

Inside the Ghost Cry Garden.

As the torches outside the wall gradually disappeared into the distance, the noise gradually subsided.

Jiang Lin let out a long breath, his legs went weak, and he collapsed back into the rattan chair.

"Miss Niu, is there any water? My legs are numb, I can't get up."

In the corner, Su Shi finally realized that he was still alive.

He scrambled to Jiang Lin's feet, grabbed Jiang Lin's leg, and smeared tears and snot all over Jiang Lin.

"Headmaster! Amazing! Absolutely amazing!"

Su Shi was so excited he was almost incoherent, his beady eyes sparkling with admiration: "Just now, I really felt a divine force push me! That was the blessing of the God of Literature, wasn't it? That was what you called 'physical exorcism,' wasn't it?"

Jiang Lin disdainfully pushed Su Shi's large face away with the handle of his fan, glanced at Shen Kuo who was still feeling sorry for the instruments, and a meaningful smile appeared on his lips.

"That's called 'reaction force,' Zizhan."

"Also, that fall you just made, although the posture was a bit ugly..." Jiang Lin paused, "was indeed a 'divine fall'."

"After tonight, the legend of 'Su Zizhan's backside landing like a wild goose on the sand, which repelled three thousand armored soldiers' will probably spread throughout Daming Prefecture."

"Huh?" Su Shi was stunned, then let out a wail, "Could you give it a nicer name? Like 'Star Lord's Drunken Retreat'?"

"Dream on."

Jiang Lin stood up, his gaze fixed on the deep well that was still emitting a faint blue flame, his eyes gradually turning cold.

"The show's over. Now it's time to get down to business."

"Jin Wanliang, draw the entrance to that 'underground purgatory' that you know of."

"Let's go and give Prefect Zhao a genuine return gift."