Civilization for a Thousand Years, Within a Single Sword

Although the time was set for seven o'clock, Zhao Cheng did not have the habit of arriving right on the dot; he arrived at the gymnasium more than ten minutes early.

Because it was Friday, the school was closed, so there were no irrelevant people lingering about.

The massive gymnasium was brightly lit. Zhao Cheng first went to the locker room to change his clothes, then carried his wooden sword and walked unhurriedly toward Zone Zero of the gymnasium.

This gymnasium had ten zones in total, from zero to nine. Zone Zero was the center of the gymnasium and also the largest area.

On ordinary days, unless there was a grand event, such as a school opening ceremony, it was rarely used.

Zhao Cheng was not the first to arrive; three boys had already arrived before him.

Each of these three boys had a tall and straight posture. As for their faces, although two of them could not be considered particularly handsome, they were of the type that looked upright and decent. Coupled with the spirit and temperament that naturally arose after practicing swordsmanship to a certain level for many years, they looked quite striking at first glance.

This was normal; one could hardly find an ugly person among those who practiced swordsmanship year-round.

Environment shapes temperament, and practice shapes the body. As time passed, they all became pleasing to the eye.

Only the leader among them had a level of attractiveness that was significantly higher than the average person, transcending the "passerby face" and possessing a bit of the feeling of a protagonist in an idol drama.

His height was also about ten centimeters taller than the other two boys; while this height difference wasn't massive, it undoubtedly made him more conspicuous.

When Zhao Cheng walked over, these three boys were chatting in low voices. Although the venue was spacious, it was a public place after all, so they kept their voices down, showing a degree of refinement.

When it came to swordsmanship, once one had practiced for a long time and grasped its essence, unless they were walking some crooked path, their temperament would naturally become tolerant and broad over time.

The students were all practicing the 17th Edition Basic Swordplay, which was as pure and upright as it could be. With such swordplay nurturing their temperament, unless someone was a born villain capable of turning such upright and peaceful swordplay into an evil art, their hearts would become increasingly pure and upright as their swordsmanship deepened.

Externally, this manifested as being generous, polite, and neither arrogant nor impetuous.

The history of the sword spanned a thousand years, and the swordsmanship of Yanhuang in particular carried the essence of Yanhuang's thousand-year culture.

Later, in the modern era, using modern thought as a guiding principle and framework, it integrated the essence of Yanhuang's long-standing culture, keeping the essence and discarding the dross. After countless revisions, this ultimate basic swordplay was born.

It appeared basic, but in reality, it was the root of Yanhuang!

This was also why the Panel could not define the quality of this swordplay.

It was a swordplay that could be continuously excavated.

Generally speaking, the higher the quality of a swordplay, the higher the requirements for entry, yet this swordplay had no entry requirements at all.

Its quality would continuously improve according to what the practitioner realized from it.

Those who could come here at this time were all from the swordsmanship class, with a minimum sword skill level of lv4, the "Proficient" stage, where their swordplay had begun to purify, and in this process, their temperament would naturally be tempered as well.

When these three saw Zhao Cheng, because they were not familiar with him, they only nodded politely at him without striking up a conversation. Zhao Cheng responded with a nod as well.

Afterward, Zhao Cheng went straight to a slightly secluded corner, sat quietly with his sword across his knees, and adjusted his breathing. With every inhalation and exhalation, the wooden sword on his knees vibrated slightly, as if in response.

Under this breathing, Zhao Cheng's originally somewhat constrained heart settled down.

His temperament was, after all, not yet firm enough; he hadn't been tempered enough, and he had actually developed a hint of nervousness regarding the upcoming event.

This feeling was somewhat like the feeling he had when he first graduated in his previous life and was about to face an interviewer, only not as intense.

Later, after he had gone through many interviews, he became accustomed to it and no longer felt nervous.

But there were always some people who, because of sufficient self-confidence and a sufficiently firm heart, could remain calm in any situation, even if it was their first time experiencing it.

This was the level of spiritual cultivation.

At this moment, Zhao Cheng understood his own shortcomings, and he did not feel annoyed by this.

No one was born infinitely powerful, but people could, as time passed, refine scrap iron into fine steel.

Spiritual cultivation lay in seeing oneself clearly and then transcending oneself.

One would not be complacent about one's own strength, nor would one dwell on one's own weakness.

Holding such thoughts, day after day, one day the dust would accumulate into a high mountain, and water droplets would gather into lakes and seas.

Time passed, and people arrived one after another. Zhao Cheng's breathing remained steady, but his eyes were already open, watching the people in front of him moving about in groups of three or five.

To Zhao Cheng, these people were all unfamiliar faces.

Although the swordsmanship class held a special status in Qingyuan, apart from a few particularly outstanding individuals—such as the top student in the school—who would pay attention to or bother to learn what other students looked like or who they were?!

Just like in his previous life, Zhao Cheng had never seen anyone go out of their way to learn who was in their school's Olympiad class, even if those people were candidates for top universities.

In the entire swordsmanship class, the only person Zhao Cheng recognized was the boy he had seen when he first arrived, whose name seemed to be Qin Tailai.

The reason he knew him was because the other party was good-looking and his swordsmanship was also good.

He was mainly famous for being good-looking, with his swordsmanship being a bonus.

When Zhao Cheng browsed the school forum, he saw many posts related to him, mostly posted by young girls, saying things like "ran into my brother," "brother is so handsome," "brother is so cool," and so on, accompanied by photos.

It was mostly like that.

As for other boys with good swordsmanship, it wasn't that there weren't any, but they didn't have such high popularity.

In this world, being good-looking could indeed gain more favor.

However, based on Zhao Cheng's vague impression over the years, the other party never seemed to have any scandals, and his social circle was clean and simple—a quintessential sunshine boy.

Perhaps it was precisely because his heart was clean and pure that his swordsmanship could be so superb. His swordsmanship was among the best in all of Qingyuan; it just didn't have the same level of attraction to young girls as his looks did.

As for his family running a big business and being wealthy, in the student era, especially before university, it actually didn't have much appeal to young girls.

Handsome! Handsome! The key was to be handsome!

If you were handsome enough, you were a "brother"; if you weren't handsome enough, you were just a guy who was very good at something.