Hearing this, Ty Lee, who was wiping the blackboard, and Mai, who had brought over water to clean the windows, both froze for a moment.
Although the teacher had assigned the three of them to cleaning duty, obviously no one dared order Her Highness to work.
Ty Lee quickly wiped away the remaining words on the blackboard, braced a hand on a desk, and vaulted over it, landing right in front of Azula.
Her big eyes shone with anticipation.
“Really?
That’s great!” Mai’s movements only paused slightly.
Then, as if nothing had happened, she continued wiping the glass.
However, after Ty Lee’s excitement passed, she grew a little worried.
“Then what about the classes we miss?” Azula waved a hand.
“It’s fine.
When we come back, we’ll have the school arrange teachers to tutor us together.” With a single sentence from Azula, the schoolteachers’ future rest days were cut directly in half.
Mai smiled faintly.
She had never liked Azula very much, but as for the decision Azula had made today, she approved of it with both hands raised.
At the very least, traveling to Shu Jing was a hundred times better than balancing an apple on her head while Azula used her for firebending target practice.
Well, it seemed the mystery of why Mai didn’t like Azula was officially solved.
… Meanwhile, near the manor in Shu Jing, on the mountain.
Piandao was assigning a task to Ren and Zuko.
He required them to take one look at the waterfall, then rely on memory and observation to draw everything they had seen.
For Ren, who basically had a videotape built into his brain, this was extremely easy.
He only glanced once before drawing the full scenery of the waterfall.
Beside him, Zuko was still racking his brains, staring intently at the water.
Seeing that Piandao was looking out toward the waterfall, Ren nudged Zuko with his elbow, gesturing for his friend to copy his work.
Yet how could their subtle movements ever escape the eyes of a grandmaster?
The moment Zuko turned his head to peek at Ren’s drawing, Piandao’s cold voice rang out.
“No cheating.” Ren shrank his neck.
He had not expected Master Piandao to notice that he and Zuko were planning to cheat without even looking at them.
So this is the realm of a grandmaster?
Isn’t that a little too ridiculous?
Zuko strained his brain and, in the end, only managed to draw a mountain and a waterfall.
Piandao inspected the two drawings.
First, he looked at Zuko’s.
The master nodded.
Zuko had prioritized the mountain and the waterfall, which meant he paid more attention to intense changes and easily overlooked details that had settled into stillness.
But when he saw Ren’s drawing, Piandao’s brows locked tightly together.
Of course, it was not because Ren had drawn too poorly.
On the contrary, Ren’s painting was almost a one-to-one reproduction of the scenery he had seen.
But Piandao was not teaching painting.
He was a master swordsman.
His main purpose in having his two disciples draw was to observe their states of mind.
And Ren’s painting gave Piandao an extremely deep sense of disharmony.
To put it abstractly, “this painting had no soul.” It looked as though everything had been drawn into it, yet inside it was empty.
Piandao was not only a grandmaster of swordsmanship, but also a teacher skilled at instructing students.
Even so, this was the first time he had encountered such a situation.
In the end, he could only attribute it to Ren’s memory being too good.
But this kind of talent, while seemingly a good thing, also limited his realm.
If one recorded every technique in full but could not integrate and understand them as a whole, then no matter what, one could never reach the level of a grandmaster.
But Piandao could not say that directly.
Because some things only became yours when you understood them for yourself.
In youth, one saw a mountain and it was a mountain.
In adulthood, one saw a mountain and it was no longer a mountain.
In old age, one saw a mountain and it was still a mountain.
If he were to point out the issue directly, it might instead lead the boy astray.
In the end, Piandao could only sigh and say, “Ren, you must find your own way, rather than blindly imitating others.” Could the old man be a little more straightforward for once?
Ren grumbled inwardly, unable to make sense of what Master Piandao was trying to say.
But the master clearly had no intention of explaining further.
He then looked at Zuko and said, “Zuko, you must learn to find peace within your heart.” Zuko was equally baffled and instinctively exchanged a look with Ren.
Ren shrugged, indicating that he did not understand either.
“Tomorrow, I will formally begin instructing you in swordsmanship.
You have the rest of today to rest; there is no need to continue practicing.” Piandao was not disappointed.
Both of his disciples were highly talented, but comprehension was something they had to rely on themselves for.
As their teacher, he was merely a guide.
How far they could go depended on them.
Although neither Ren nor Zuko understood the meaning of the master’s earlier words, knowing that they would be able to learn true skills made them both very happy.
At nine that evening, although the master had allowed them to rest for the day, Zuko was clearly too excited.
Ren sat cross-legged on a stone bench in the training yard, watching Zuko not far away as he swung his twin dao blade with force.
Each pull and return was as steady as Mount Tai, his blade work skilled to the point of instinct.
Sensing the aura and gaze of a certain slacker, Zuko stopped and sheathed his blades, then turned back in confusion.
“What’s wrong?” “Nothing.
I’m resting for a bit.” Ren stretched lazily.
“You didn’t practice much swordsmanship today either, did you?” Zuko wiped off his sweat and sat down beside Ren, complaining, “Why do you always look so exhausted and worn out?” “You don’t understand.
I watched several episodes of TV today, and now my battery’s running low,” Ren said faintly.
“What’s TV?” Zuko had never heard the term before and asked with some curiosity.
“That’s why I said you don’t understand.” Ren had just been about to explain, but then he felt that explaining it would be a little troublesome, so he simply brushed it off in one sentence.
However, he had somewhat underestimated Zuko’s stubbornness.
“How am I supposed to know what you mean if you don’t say it?
Stop talking in riddles!” With no other choice, Ren could only give a brief explanation of what a television was.
By the time it reached Zuko’s ears, however, it had somehow become a magical black box that, when powered by electricity, could put on theatrical performances for people to watch.
“Well, thinking of it that way isn’t wrong either.” Ren laced his hands behind his head, looked up at the starry night, and slowly said, “After all this time, I really do miss home a little.” Zuko followed his gaze and looked up at the sky.
First he thought of his mother, and a smile unconsciously appeared on his face.
Then he thought of his father and Azula.
Especially the incident where Azula had set his butt on fire.
The smile on Zuko’s face disappeared, and he said somewhat dejectedly, “I don’t understand.
I only did the right thing.
Why did Azula have to treat me so cruelly?” Sensing the scent of gossip, Ren immediately perked up.
He poked Zuko and said, “What happened between you and Azula?
Hurry up and tell me.” Zuko was still a little embarrassed to talk about being bullied by his younger sister.
But since the person he was confiding in was his good friend Ren, Zuko still briefly explained what had happened back then.
After listening, Ren roughly understood the course of events.
Simply put, Azula had set the garden on fire.
Zuko saw it and immediately tattled to their mother.
After being scolded by their mother, an angry Azula turned around and set Zuko’s butt on fire.
In any case, when Ren heard that part, he laughed in a very unkind manner.