Chapter 58: Fundamentals of Rhetoric, and the Four Celestial Kings (End)

In an instant, Zhao Qingmiao felt a profound admiration, as if standing before an insurmountable mountain. Look, just look at Old Iron Brother—this is what true grit means, this is what dignity is! He doesn't copy, doesn't take shortcuts, nor does he simply abstain; instead, he waits to pick it up again in the future, to do it himself!

Forgive me, Old Iron Brother—I was wrong to lump you in with those ordinary slackers who simply don’t turn in homework, thinking you were just another who didn’t bother to write yours. That was an insult to you! Your level, your spirit, your perseverance—they far surpass those slackers, no, they surpass me by a thousand leagues!

In this moment, Zhao Qingmiao felt that Shi Tiexin was not only brave and loyal, but pure and noble. Never before had he encountered such a towering figure. He felt an overwhelming charisma radiating from Shi Tiexin, who sat there, seeming to glow in his eyes.

“Big brother!” Zhao Qingmiao’s eyes sparkled, like a devoted fan.

“Move aside, move aside~” Someone shoved the moved Zhao Qingmiao, and it was Zhou Nan. This kid hadn’t shown up all morning, but now he rushed over with great urgency. Ignoring everyone else, he slid right next to Shi Tiexin, his face full of mystery as he shared his news: “Iron Brother, I just got some big news!”

This kid was being so secretive—what news could matter so much to him?

Shi Tiexin was a bit curious, but suspected that nothing worthwhile could come from Zhou Nan’s mouth, so he was reluctant to waste time on his gossip. Ultimately, he replied with a noncommittal “Oh?” that sounded inscrutable.

But Zhou Nan was bursting with excitement and couldn't contain himself. “I heard—just now—the King of Zhou from the senior class has returned!”

Senior class? King of Zhou? Heh, as expected—what does that have to do with me?

So Shi Tiexin calmly took out his supplementary study notes and prepared to resume reading.

Out of courtesy, he replied, “Oh.”

See, I’m practically the model of civility and a breath of fresh air.

“Iron Brother, you don’t know—the current Four Kings, the King of Zhou in the senior class has the highest prestige in the whole school! The college entrance exams are about to start, and if he’s returned now, it must be for that one thing!”

Zhou Nan thought “that one thing” was crucial, and he watched Shi Tiexin’s expression closely, wanting to know his opinion on it. Was he confident? Was he determined to win? If Shi Tiexin truly was intent on winning, then how could Zhou Nan hope to compete with him?

But to his surprise, Shi Tiexin’s face showed not the slightest reaction.

“Oh…”

That was Shi Tiexin’s only response, and then he focused intently on his literacy cards.

Is this guy really so deep and inscrutable? Not a single crack in his composure—truly deserving of my admiration for his cunning! Zhou Nan felt defeated, realizing he was nowhere near Shi Tiexin’s aura of authority. He turned and gazed out the window, looking toward the sports field, his mind wandering.

Ah, the Four Kings—how majestic, how domineering...

While Zhou Nan was lost in thought, at the highest point of Fengming No. 1 High School’s sports field, four figures were indeed gathered.

The so-called highest point referred to the viewing platform on the east side of the field. When the school held sports meets or assemblies, the leadership presided from this platform, surveying the campus. Of course, on ordinary days, no one was there. In the legends of the misfits from the so-called “garbage class,” ordinary students weren’t allowed up there.

This was the exclusive domain of the Four Kings, dubbed by others as “King’s Mountain.”

Of course, nicknames are made up by people, and the one who coined this over-the-top name just happened to be on the platform now. With one foot on the railing, hands in his pockets, a long robe tied at his waist, skull-shaped earring in place, and striking a pose that suggested loneliness at the height—this was the first-year King, Liu Chuanfeng—uh, Liu Shufeng.

Alongside him were three others, each with their own distinct manner—standing, sitting, or crouching.

The one standing had his arms crossed over his chest, powerfully built. His muscles bulged, and his tight black tank top was stretched to its limits. Tall and burly, his face was fierce, his aura menacing, and he seemed the embodiment of “hard-style kung fu.” This was the second-year King, Chen Yuanlong, known as Big Dragon.

The one sitting had one leg propped high by his side. Though he looked like a young student, he exuded a sense of world-weariness, with stubble on his chin and eyes full of memories too painful to recall. The air of smoking, drinking, and a perm completed his gangster aura.

This was the second-year King, Zhou Xiong, known as Brother Xiong.

The third, crouching, was even more striking. He was in a pose reminiscent of a conqueror’s squat…

“What are you doing!” A shout rang out from afar, drawing the four’s attention to a square-headed figure: “You’re supposed to be in class—what are you doing up here!”

It was the square-headed star, Zheng Kaiming!

No time to introduce the last person—everyone sprang into action. Liu Shufeng fixed his hair, changed clothes, took off his earring, donned his glasses, all in a flash. Thinking his speed was unmatched, he glanced over to find the other three even faster!

Just moments ago, they were all swaggering as if they owned the place, but in a blink, their demeanor transformed, as meek as if they were attending an English salon.

The conqueror’s squat turned into a worker’s squat, and that person popped up, hurriedly explaining, “It’s nothing, nothing—we’re just here to study for a bit!”

Zheng Kaiming was speechless.

How dumb do you think I am to believe that?

But after giving them a long, hard look, Zheng Kaiming didn’t pursue it further, leaving only a “Be careful” before walking away.

With the square-headed star gone, the group swiftly reverted, gathering their fierce “I’m not to be trifled with” aura once more.

“Brother Yang, you really are impressive— even the square-headed star gives you face.” The smoker, drinker, and permed hair guy offered a cigarette, and the conqueror accepted it, his expression calm: “Heh, just a little respect, nothing worth mentioning.”

Though he was clearly showing off, Liu Shufeng and the others didn’t interrupt him, letting him quietly smoke while he surveyed the campus, as though reminiscing, recalling, or bidding farewell.

One cigarette finished, Chen Yuanlong handed him another, which he took. After the second, Liu Shufeng offered his turn. The three took turns passing him cigarettes, which he smoked in succession. For a while, no one spoke, as if performing some important ritual.

When the last cigarette was gone, he tossed the butt to the ground. “Cough, cough! Too many smokes, my throat’s sore, cough!” When he'd finished coughing, he stood up with a flourish: “This time, I won’t be coming back. As for my position, spread the word—I’m not naming anyone. Let them fight for it!”