Chapter Twenty-One: Master Math, Physics, and Chemistry, and You Need Fear Nothing Anywhere in the World

Liu Yueming's longsword touched the old man's crimson giant blade, and the energy within both men surged furiously through their swords toward each other. One cold, one hot, the two streams of sword energy collided at the intersection, gradually reaching a balance.

Invisible sword energy burst outward, forming a curtain of light—half fiery red, half chilling white—that enveloped the old man and Liu Yueming. As their sword energies continued to be pushed, the curtain expanded.

Zhou Yu watched them anxiously, his mind racing for a solution.

"You'd better come up with something fast. If we keep clashing like this, both of us will exhaust ourselves and die," the old man said, steam rising from him, sweat evaporating instantly.

"Can't you retreat first?" Zhou Yu watched the expanding curtain, growing more worried.

"If either of us lets go, the one who retreats dies. If neither retreats, both die!" The old man gritted his teeth and spoke no more.

As time passed, the amount of sword energy the old man and Liu Yueming could muster dwindled. The curtain stopped expanding, but the sword energy inside grew increasingly dense.

Zhou Yu watched, his heart pounding, unable to think of a solution. He moved closer, hoping to spot some opportunity.

After observing the curtain for a while, Zhou Yu suddenly spoke, "I’ll ask you some questions. You don’t need to reply; just nod if yes, shake your head if no."

The old man nodded, teeth clenched.

"Is it that neither of you can retreat because you’re evenly matched, and if someone withdraws, the energy inside the curtain will strike the one who pulls back?"

The old man nodded.

"If some force disrupts the balance, would it break the deadlock between you?"

He nodded again.

"What if I throw a thin pancake in the middle—what would happen?"

The old man neither nodded nor shook his head; he didn’t know, but kept blinking, signaling Zhou Yu that he was reaching his limit.

"I’ll have to try," Zhou Yu said, grabbing a lump of snow and tossing it at the curtain. The snowball touched the curtain, melted, and then turned into steam that floated skyward.

By now, the energy inside the curtain had reached a critical mass. Although the two streams of sword energy maintained equilibrium, the impact of a small snowball was negligible.

"Hmm, missed the mark," Zhou Yu said, grabbing another snowball and throwing it at the curtain.

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This time, before the snowball even touched the curtain, it became a frozen lump and dropped to the ground.

Zhou Yu walked to the curtain, drew a straight line in the snow, then grabbed another snowball and hurled it at the curtain.

After the tenth snowball and the tenth line, Zhou Yu dusted off his hands, crouched down, and thickened the tenth line.

The snow here was deep; Zhou Yu dug along the line, creating a long, deep trench in the snow, packing it down firmly with his palms, carefully shaping it.

He worked slowly and meticulously, occasionally throwing another snowball at the curtain, then returning to his task.

Inside the curtain, steam rose from the old man, as if he were trapped in a steamer; a sickly red flush appeared on his face.

Opposite him, even the air around Liu Yueming seemed frozen solid; sunlight entering the curtain twisted, and Liu Yueming's face looked deathly pale.

Zhou Yu finished his work, climbed out of the trench, which stretched far into the distance like a winding snow dragon, ending at a high mound of snow.

He disappeared over the mound.

The old man cursed inwardly; damned kid, after all that fuss, he runs off and leaves me behind!

Not long after, Zhou Yu reappeared atop the snow mound, holding a giant snowball, which he gently placed on the mound.

The snowball sank halfway into the mound, evidence of how densely Zhou Yu had packed it.

He lifted the snowball, set it into the trench, and pushed it, sending it rolling down the trench. As it rolled, the snowball grew larger, picking up speed, with Zhou Yu racing behind, pushing it along.

Finally, the massive snowball crashed into the curtain. The first layer touching the curtain was immediately vaporized by the energy, but the snowball was so large and dense that it soon pressed the curtain inward.

At that moment, Zhou Yu shouted, lowered his right shoulder, braced his legs, and slammed into the snowball's opposite side. The snowball broke through the curtain, redirecting the energy, and the balance was shattered!

Violent energy shot down the trench in the opposite direction, and both the old man and Liu Yueming collapsed to the ground.

Zhou Yu climbed up, wiped the sweat from his brow, and sighed, "With a solid grasp of science, one can travel the world without fear."

Nearly exhausted, Liu Yueming gradually regained consciousness. His vision blurred, he reached for the sword on his back.

"Don’t move. You need to rest properly now."

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He heard Zhou Yu’s voice in his ear. Liu Yueming felt warmth in his heart, closed his eyes, and held back tears. All those who had once cared for him like this were gone.

"Looks like your body is still in good shape; you can drink and eat meat again," Zhou Yu said, handing a slice of meat to the old man drinking wine.

The old man shot him a glance, then looked at Liu Yueming lying nearby. "That’s because, in his current state—possessed by the evil sword—he can’t control his power and wasted a lot of energy. I was conscious, so my injuries aren’t as severe."

"Speaking of which, you really are clever. To come up with such a solution—truly worthy of being my disciple," the old man said, biting into the meat and praising him.

Zhou Yu laughed heartily. "The wise never lied: with science, I can walk the world without fear."

He had determined the equilibrium point of energy in the curtain by tossing snowballs, then dug a trench at that point so the rolling snowball would strike the balance directly, breaking the equilibrium and redirecting the energy vertically, avoiding harm to either man. This minimized the backlash suffered by both the old man and Liu Yueming.

In his school days, Zhou Yu excelled at science. If it weren’t for that troublesome language class dragging down his grades, he would have entered a top university.

"Master, do you think that energy shot out might hit some flowers or plants—or some unlucky soul?" Zhou Yu suddenly asked.

"How should I know?" The old man seemed uneasy with Zhou Yu's new attitude after his brush with death.

Just then, Zhou Yu's wristwatch suddenly announced the time, "It is now eight o’clock in the evening, Beijing time."

Both Zhou Yu and the old man were startled. Zhou Yu quickly dropped his meat and pressed the watch.

He hesitated for a moment before pressing the button, but finally did so.

After pressing it, a light screen emerged from the watch, and a delicate figure gradually appeared on the screen.

The old man and Zhou Yu stared, dumbfounded, their mouths agape.

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