The Almighty Martial Arts System - Chapter 250

“Did you enjoy it?”

Jiang Fei set down his erhu and rose from the wooden chair, smiling as he surveyed the packed auditorium.

“Yes!”

The response was deafening. Both men and women shouted at the top of their lungs, faces flushed with emotion. Their enthusiasm wasn’t just because of Jiang Fei’s breathtaking performance—it was also out of shame for their earlier dismissive remarks.

They had called the erhu unpleasant, unmusical.

Now, after hearing Jiang Fei play, they realized how wrong they had been.

Every student was moved, awestruck.

And Jiang Fei? He smiled, satisfied.

There was something deeply gratifying about transforming these elite students’ disdain for the erhu into genuine appreciation. At least in this regard, he had conquered them. Changed them.

“China’s thousands of years of civilization have given us countless treasures—most of which we’ve either overlooked or deliberately ignored. Just like the erhu. Many of you once thought its sound was grating, its appearance outdated, its very essence archaic. But that ‘archaic’ quality isn’t a sign of backwardness. It’s the accumulated wisdom of our ancestors, refined over centuries! The older something is, the more care we should take to preserve and study it.”

“Western instruments dominate modern music. Most young people today learn the piano or violin—just like how Western medicine overshadows traditional Chinese medicine. But as descendants of the Yellow Emperor, don’t we have a duty to ensure these classical Chinese traditions don’t vanish from history? While we embrace new knowledge and ideas from the West, we mustn’t erase the cultural heritage that’s already ours.”

Applause erupted—thunderous, unending, filling the auditorium for nearly a full minute before Jiang Fei finally gestured for silence.

Zhang Liwei, the event’s hostess, gazed at Jiang Fei with starry-eyed admiration as she stepped back onstage.

Her idol was even more extraordinary than she’d imagined. A true polymath!

Some celebrities boasted about playing seven or eight instruments. But in Zhang Liwei’s eyes, they couldn’t hold a candle to Jiang Fei.

He had stunned the world with his piano skills, earning respect from global maestros. And now, he’d revealed an equally divine mastery of classical Chinese music.

A man who balanced modernity with tradition was the most captivating kind of man.

No wonder some female students had declared him “the most charismatic man in the world.”

At this moment, Jiang Fei seemed to radiate an almost holy aura. Even A-list heartthrobs like Tom Cruise or David Beckham would pale in comparison.

After reining in her fangirl excitement, Zhang Liwei smoothly transitioned to the next segment: a Q&A with student representatives.

Initially disappointed that Jiang Fei hadn’t played piano, the audience was now wholly won over by Moon Reflected on Second Spring.

Tearful young women, awestruck young men—all saw Jiang Fei as an idol, eagerly firing questions at him.

Their inquiries were thoughtful, spanning topics from cultural preservation to modern societal issues like healthcare reform.

Jiang Fei answered candidly, speaking from the heart.

Two hours flew by. As the lecture neared its end, Jiang Fei felt a quiet pride.

His first time teaching, and it was at Peking University—for an audience of the nation’s brightest. Few in the world could claim such an honor.

And he’d nailed it. The perfect balance of substance and showmanship.

Vice-Principal Liu had mentioned this lecture would be edited and broadcast on Beijing TV. Not national coverage, but enough. Jiang Fei was confident it would inspire countless more young people.

Just as he prepared his closing remarks, a woman stood up—one he’d noticed the moment he entered the room.

Why had she caught his eye?

Because she was stunning.

Jet-black, center-parted hair. Bold red lips. An ice-queen demeanor that screamed goddess. Men and women alike couldn’t help but glance her way.

She was the main reason Jiang Fei had earlier remarked on Peking University’s “unexpectedly high caliber of female students.”

Yet throughout the lecture, this aloof beauty had remained silent—no chatter, no questions. The only flicker of emotion she’d shown was during Moon Reflected on Second Spring. Otherwise, she’d been unmoved, seemingly uninterested in Jiang Fei’s words.

Just when he assumed she was immune to his charm, she finally rose to speak.

But her question wasn’t what he—or anyone—expected.

“Mr. Jiang, do you believe China’s classical heritage is best represented by music and medicine?”

Her voice was cool, deliberate.

The moment she stood, murmurs rippled through the crowd.

“The Humanities Department’s top goddess actually asked a question! Did Jiang Fei win her over too?”

“That aura… No wonder she’s the most universally acknowledged campus belle.”

“I’m no fan of Japan, but you can’t deny—Liu Sheng Qianxia is breathtaking.”

“Honestly? I only came because I saw her heading here. But this lecture was worth every second!”

Even the hostess, Zhang Liwei, leaned in to whisper, “That’s Liu Sheng Qianxia. An exchange student from Japan.”

“Japanese?”

Jiang Fei’s eyebrows lifted. After a thoughtful pause, he replied, “Chinese civilization is vast. Medicine and music can’t possibly encapsulate all its classics. As for what’s ‘most representative’—that’s subjective. What would you say, Ms. Liu Sheng?”

Unfazed, the red-lipped beauty answered without hesitation:

“I believe it’s martial arts—specifically, swordsmanship. If my sources are correct, Mr. Jiang, your expertise isn’t limited to music and medicine. You’re also a master of the sword. Why didn’t you speak on that today? Swordsmanship was what I came to hear you discuss.”

Jiang Fei’s surprise deepened.

This Japanese student knew about his swordsmanship. She’d attended specifically for that.

How?

Was she herself a practitioner? Connected to Beijing’s martial arts circles? Had she heard of his recent exploits at the Central Swordsmanship Hall?

Likely.

The martial arts world was insular. While Jiang Fei’s clashes at the Central Hall had made waves among practitioners, ordinary Beijing residents knew nothing of them.

“This Liu Sheng Qianxia… has an agenda,” Jiang Fei mused.

His knowledge of Japanese swordsmanship was limited. He’d only heard of the Miyamoto family’s two-sword style—and Miyamoto Kazuma, who was set to duel Liu Yunduo in a month.

Outwardly, though, he remained composed.

“Martial arts and swordsmanship are indeed part of China’s classical heritage—embodying the spirit of our people. But this is Peking University, not a martial arts school. Most students here aren’t familiar with these disciplines, so I chose not to focus on them.”

“Then may I consult you privately, Mr. Jiang?”

Liu Sheng Qianxia’s gaze didn’t waver.

“Ooooh—!”

The auditorium erupted in good-natured teasing. The campus’ most unattainable beauty was asking for private lessons? Most guys wouldn’t dare dream of such luck.

They were also intrigued. This erhu-playing, scholarly gentleman was secretly a swordsmaster?

Was he some kind of Renaissance man?