First Battlefield Commander! - Chapter 89
Chapter 89: Program
Lian Sheng's calligraphy was simultaneously projected onto the blackboard at the front.
The three bold characters were indeed beautifully written. But upon clearly seeing what they spelled, cold sweat instantly broke out.
Roommate B raised a hand and shouted, "Hey, classmate! Don't you two want your academic credits?"
Lian Sheng: "..."
The lecturer finally snapped out of his daze.
Lian Sheng raised one hand, smiling at the instructor to signal him to wait. Then she picked up the brush again and added one more character at the end.
"Confused"
Standing to the side with hands clasped in front, Lian Sheng said meekly, "I'm very confused."
The instructor's expression went through rapid changes as he stared at her for a long moment before finally taking the offered way out: "What are you confused about?"
Lian Sheng said, "The profound mysteries of calligraphy are vast and deep. Not something we can easily comprehend."
The instructor's expression softened slightly: "Your brush writing is quite good. You've practiced many years, haven't you? That's truly not easy."
Of course it was good - she'd been writing with brushes for decades.
Lian Sheng said mildly, "How would I dare presume? It's far inferior to yours."
The instructor shuddered, took a step back, and tilted his head to ask, "Do you have some issue with me?"
"No," Lian Sheng said. "This is our first meeting... second meeting. I'm deeply impressed by your distinguished demeanor. How could there be any dissatisfaction?"
"Second meeting?" The instructor held up two fingers. "Aren't you a student in my class? You're taking this for credits, right?"
"..." Lian Sheng said, "No, I'm just an auditing student who came because of your reputation. I didn't enroll in this course."
Instructor: "Your name."
Lian Sheng paused, then said, "I'm Zhao Zhuoluo."
The instructor pointed urgently: "That one over there is Zhao Zhuoluo!"
Lian Sheng raised an eyebrow and followed his gaze to indeed see Zhao Zhuoluo sitting in the middle seats.
Zhao Zhuoluo: "..."
"..." Lian Sheng, "Right, I'm his friend, Fang Jianyue."
Zhao Zhuoluo looked up, avoiding the instructor's gaze.
The three roommates in the back covered their faces in despair.
The instructor shook his head and sighed. "Forget it, this is just an interest class anyway. Final grades are based on submitted works. I was a student not long ago myself - I understand."
Lian Sheng clasped her fists in salute, then turned to leave.
"Wait!" The instructor called after her, tentatively asking, "Is my class really that boring?"
Lian Sheng thought for a moment and said, "Actually, there's one phrase that could instantly wake up all the students here, eliminating any drowsiness."
Instructor: "What is it?"
Lian Sheng walked to the center and waved a hand: "Class dismissed!"
The students cheered, jumping up: "Yesss—!"
Instructor: "..."
Right on cue, the bell rang. Students swarmed out as Lian Sheng shrugged at the instructor before descending.
The instructor gathered his things and quickly left the classroom.
Zhao Zhuoluo leaped from his seat, chasing after her: "Lian Sheng, wait!"
Lian Sheng extended a hand: "Hello, I'm Fang Jianyue."
Zhao Zhuoluo said helplessly, "...Stop messing around."
Lian Sheng said, "I didn't expect you to be taking this class. I didn't want to give my name. But don't worry, I've never used yours for fraud before."
A male student pushed past Zhao Zhuoluo to rush up to Lian Sheng, exclaiming, "Goddess? Celestial being? Whatever—you're divine!"
The boy looked ready to hug her legs as he wiped his face emotionally: "Wonderful! I knew from first sight you were no ordinary person! Our Military Academy can't exist without you. Sister Lian!"
Lian Sheng got goosebumps and asked warily, "What do you want?"
The boy said, "Here's the thing—we're planning the New Year's Eve show, but our academy still has no ideas for performances. We want you to write calligraphy on stage as an act."
Roommate A asked curiously, "Your Military Academy has this problem? Don't you do martial arts every year?"
A nearby boy shook his head mournfully: "No good. Finally got rejected this year. Said it lacked originality and creativity after complaints. What a pain—just had to be our year."
Lian Sheng said, "Then go do a chorus."
"No!" Roommate A said. "All gala performances are judged by professors—no slacking. Must demonstrate real skill. How could a hastily assembled chorus meet their standards?"
Lian Sheng frowned: "Why bother? Isn't this just an entertainment event?"
"It really matters," Roommate A said. "Our Alliance University is loaded! All equipment and labs get real-time updates. Even our castoffs sold to other schools remain cutting-edge. Most importantly, we must support thousands of research projects big and small."
Lian Sheng: "...So?"
"And this money doesn't come from Alliance funding—most is donated by sponsors. To thank these donors, our New Year's show opens to the public every year. Attendees are all influential figures, so our gala is quite famous," Roommate A explained. "Over time, it's become a tradition showcasing student talent. Concerning our school's honor, every act must pass strict review."
Lian Sheng: "Then don't participate."
Roommate A said, "That won't do either! Students lacking gratitude face punishment from Alliance University."
She held up both hands, shaking them.
Lian Sheng ventured, "Fines?"
Roommate A: "Juniors organize the gala every year. The entire junior class gets penalized ten credits."
Lian Sheng immediately looked at them: "Just writing some characters is easy. No problem, no problem."
Over a dozen boys crowded around eagerly: "Then come with us now to submit for approval?"
Lian Sheng: "Approved."
The three roommates, not from the Military Academy and having later classes, left first. The rest immediately headed for the review location.
The classroom doorway already had a long line from multiple academies. Some were large performances with packed numbers, stretching all the way to the building entrance.
The queue looked imposing but moved quickly—they were admitted after just half an hour.
The group pushed Lian Sheng forward as she presented her earlier calligraphy: "Military Academy applying to perform calligraphy."
The professor carefully examined it before shaking his head: "No good."
Lian Sheng stepped forward, staring solemnly at his bald head: "You may say the paper is lacking, but you cannot say my writing is lacking. General Lian does not accept this criticism."
"I'm not saying the writing is bad—I'm saying the act isn't suitable," the professor set down the paper. "We can't just have a student scribble a few strokes and call it a performance. How would that look?"
"I could," Lian Sheng said. "Write an entire essay. Or a whole book."
"..." The professor said, amused, "I mean writing is too static—there needs to be some visual appeal."
Zhao Zhuoluo suggested: "We'll do martial arts plus calligraphy."
Professor: "Neither fish nor fowl."
Lian Sheng said: "Then martial arts plus painting."
Professor: "Same difference."
"The writing really is excellent," the professor stroked his chin. "How about you inscribe something for our gala?"
Lian Sheng: "One credit."
Professor: "The school will pay."
Lian Sheng scoffed proudly: "I'm very wealthy."
The professor considered: "Then as extracurricular practice, I'll report an extra 0.5 credits for you."
Lian Sheng stayed silent. Zhao Zhuoluo reminded her: "Better than nothing."
Lian Sheng: "Deal."
The professor waved: "You can go now. Next group."
As they turned to leave, one boy stomped his foot: "Wait, this was supposed to be our academy's act! What use is 0.5 personal credits? We still haven't solved the main problem!"
Lian Sheng looked at him: "What do you want me to do? I can also drum, blow horns, and wage war."
A tall, sturdy boy rushed to the table, wailing: "Give us Military majors a way out, professor! You rejected our one refined girl among a bunch of brutes—what are we supposed to do? Look how nice Materials Engineering has it—just providing props! Let us offer technical guidance too!"
The professor clicked his tongue: "Your Military Academy needs something meaningful! Same martial arts every year—and not even impressive! Who wants to see you practice military boxing? Just dragging a dozen people onstage all sloppy and uncoordinated—no military bearing at all!"
A student said earnestly: "This time we can do freestyle!"
"No!" The professor said. "If you can pull off acrobatics, I'll approve you immediately! Otherwise, go practice properly and come back when you've got real presence!"
The boy said, "Professor, when do we have time? Between monthly battles, classes, training..."
The professor waved him off: "Don't play pitiful with me, or I'll call security."
The boy bit his sleeve, batting eyelashes tearfully: "Pro—fessor!"
Several boys: "Professor—!"
Lian Sheng covered her ears.
Zhao Zhuoluo suddenly pushed her: "What weapons can you use?"
Lian Sheng: "What?"
Zhao Zhuoluo winked: "Don't you know ancient martial arts? Go try. Can you do fist forms?"
Lian Sheng thought for a moment: "You should ask what I can't do."
Zhao Zhuoluo looked around, then went to fetch a wooden staff leaning by the door, tossing it to her. To the professor, he said: "Our new act."
The boys instantly quieted, scrambling aside.
Lian Sheng stepped to the center, adjusted her pants, and did some warmup jumps: "Clothes aren't ideal, but it'll do."
With a twist of her wrist, Lian Sheng spun the staff: "Staff."
Gripping it with both hands, her aura transformed. Swinging overhead, she leaped and slammed it down.
The hollow classroom echoed with the impact as spectators gasped. Even at a distance, the power behind her movements was palpable—yet transitions between strikes remained light and precise, never crude.
After demonstrating half a staff routine, she planted it firmly: "Spear."
Pushing one end, she gripped the bottom and stepped forward in a thrusting motion.
"Sword."
"Saber!"
The audience gaped dumbfounded, eyes tracking her movements without words.
This was... the supposedly lost ancient martial arts?
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