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

A muffled cracking sound, like a sigh from the depths of the earth's core.

Instead of the expected deafening flames, a thick cloud of smoke, as dark as ink and tinged with an eerie purple, appeared. This purple smoke, as if alive, quickly spread across the muddy ground, instantly enveloping an area of ​​several dozen feet in radius.

This is the most powerful byproduct Shen Kuo produced after "sacrificing" three thatched houses and half an eyebrow at Jingshi Academy—a high-pressure concentrated version of tear gas powder.

"Cough cough... Ah!! My eyes!"

The assassins clearly hadn't anticipated this "sorcery." The few assassins at the forefront, holding their breath as they tried to get through the smoke, found that the purple smoke was like needles, drilling into every pore, especially their exposed eyeballs, which instantly felt as if they had been doused with scalding hot oil.

The assassins, who had been ruthless and murderous, now resembled a flock of ducks being choked. One by one, they dropped their poisoned daggers, knelt in the mud, and frantically rubbed their eyes. Some even rolled around on the ground in pain. The once meticulously planned assassination formation collapsed into a farcical spectacle in an instant.

"Don't just stand there, the physics class isn't over yet."

Jiang Lin sat on his horse, his indifferent voice piercing through the screams and reaching the ears of every terrified student.

"Has the enemy gone blind, and your hands gone blind too? Han Zhen, how do you use torque as I taught you?"

Han Zhen jolted awake, staring at the assassin at his feet, frantically clawing at his wounds in agony. In that instant, the scholar's cowardice was utterly shattered by the instinct for survival. Veins bulged on his forehead, and he gripped the cracked log tightly with both hands, slamming it down hard on the back of the assassin's neck!

"Bang!"

The wooden pole snapped, and the assassin groaned and passed out.

Zhou Yuan trembled like a sieve, soaked to the bone, and the unfinished, mud-covered straw sandal he was holding fell into the urinal. But seeing those usually unapproachable assassins in such a sorry state, a surge of courage he had never felt before welled up within him. He picked up a heavy bag of flour and, with that surge of power, slammed it hard on the head of an assassin who was trying to get up.

White powder flew everywhere, mixed with purple smoke, creating a scene so absurd it made people want to laugh.

"Well done, Young Master Zhou." Jiang Lin chuckled, but his tone was as cold as ice. "Although the accuracy was a bit off, at least you understand how gravitational acceleration is converted into lethality."

The previously trembling refugees, seeing these vicious "killers" being tormented by a group of usually timid young men, burst into laughter, someone seemingly leading the charge. The laughter spread like wildfire, and the fear and resentment that had been hanging over the refugee camp seemed to dissipate somewhat in the laughter.

Jiang Lin dismounted, his boots making a crisp "thud" as they stepped into the muddy slush. He slowly walked up to the leader of the assassins, whose eyes were red and swollen like peaches, yet he was still struggling to reach for the signal flare at his waist.

With a "crack," Jiang Lin stepped on the other person's wrist, pressing down with even and ruthless force.

"Ah—!" A scream pierced the night sky.

"Tell me, how much resettlement money did Wu Chong leave you?" Jiang Lin leaned down, his shadow enveloping the assassin.

The assassin leader's face was contorted with pain, veins bulging, and his eyes were filled with venom, yet he remained silent, gritting his teeth.

"I like tough guys." Jiang Lin nodded, his eyes showing no anger, only a chilling thirst for knowledge. He casually pulled a stone from the treasure bag on Shen Kuo's back, a stone that emitted a pungent smell and gleamed with a dark, eerie light.

"This is a new product developed by Shen Kuo called 'Extreme Cold Carbon.' Just put it in your mouth, and your tongue will freeze into ice crystals within five breaths. Then, with a gentle tap of my small wooden mallet, the base of your tongue will shatter into a pile of shiny fragments. Want to try it?"

The assassin leader stared at the stone, feeling the bone-chilling cold emanating from it, his pupils contracting sharply. As a member of the assassin's crew, he wasn't afraid of death, but he feared this cruel torture that defied comprehension.

"It's...it's the remnants of the Cai family...they want to burn the grain supplies, incite a popular uprising, and muddy the waters..."

"Qian Duoduo, write this down." Jiang Lin loosened his grip and casually tossed the stone back to Shen Kuo. "Tie the rest up securely and send them back to the capital, Ouyang, by express courier first thing tomorrow morning. Tell him there are too many bedbugs in Bianjing. If he can't sweep them up, I don't mind going back and doing it myself."

The campfire gradually brightened. Thousands of starving people gathered around the campfire, holding bowls of coarse but fragrant porridge, their last hope for survival.

The young masters sat sprawled haphazardly in the mud, their faces covered in dust. Shen Kuo was bandaging someone's wounds, while Zhao Lingjun, with her sleeves rolled up, handed Zhou Yuan a bowl of murky water without any princess-like decorum.

"Sit down." Zhao Lingjun stopped Zhou Yuan's subconscious kneeling movement, and looked at the high slope in the distance. "The headmaster once said that in the academy, there are only classmates, no princesses. You did well today."

Zhou Yuan was stunned. He looked at the coarse tea mixed with sand in his hand, took a big gulp, and his Adam's apple bobbed violently: "Tired, really tired. But when I hit that spot with the stick just now... I don't think I've ever been this clear-headed in my life."

Jiang Lin stood on high ground, his gaze sharp as an arrow, pointing directly towards Bianjing. He knew this was just the beginning. The officialdom of the Song Dynasty was rotten to the core; the powerful and wealthy were willing to treat the common people like straw dogs in their power struggles.

"Headmaster, where are we going next?" Shen Kuo asked excitedly, patting his medicine box.

"Back to the capital, to the Imperial Academy." Jiang Lin's lips curled into a cruel yet playful smile. "Those Imperial Academy students who only know how to write pretentious poems, aren't they going to denounce me at Xiangguo Temple for the sake of 'people's livelihood'? Then I'll take them to see the real 'top scholar'."

Just then, on the distant horizon, a swift horse galloped towards them like a black lightning bolt!

"Report—!"

"Urgent message from Daming Prefecture! Su Shi, Su Zizhan, has returned to the capital!"

The sentry's voice was hoarse with excitement: "Accompanying us... is a cartload of irrefutable evidence of Zhao Liben's corruption, weighing three thousand pounds! And there are two 'special witnesses' brought back by Lord Su. Lord Su said that the headmaster must personally unveil these two life-saving tokens!"

Upon hearing this, Jiang Lin burst into laughter, the sound of which shook the surrounding forest.

Su Zizhan, you stubborn fool, you've finally learned your lesson. Three thousand catties of incriminating evidence, plus these assassins in my hands.

This time, let's see what kind of "articles" those old fogies can use to stop this raging torrent!

"Pass down the order, return to the capital!" Jiang Lin mounted his horse, turned it around, and said, "Tell Su Zizhan to go to Fanlou and bring out all the best aged wine. Also... invite those leading students from the Imperial Academy over."

"This land in the Great Song Dynasty needs a thorough overhaul."