“Senior brother is older and wiser, how could I presume… oh, let’s cut the nonsense,” Cai Zhao replied, dropping the formalities. “Don’t be so sanctimonious, senior brother. If you’ve got the guts, go stop him yourself.”
Knowing he lacked the influence to intervene, Fan Xingjia gritted his teeth and ran towards another courtyard.
As Cai Zhao hesitated, Black Mole had already efficiently guided Chang Ning, and soon the entire cluster of outer disciple residences was in an uproar.
Based on Chang Ning’s revenge pattern, the outer disciples could be categorized into three groups:
The first category consisted of those with significant martial prowess, known even outside the sect. They naturally disdained being Qi Lingbo’s lackeys. They knew of Chang Hao’s chivalrous reputation and despised those who bullied the Chang family’s orphan but couldn’t interfere due to Qi Lingbo’s status. Now that Chang Ning had come for revenge, they pretended to be asleep, feigning ignorance.
The second category comprised disciples of average skill. Most were busy with cultivation, but a few, seeing slow progress, sought to curry favor with Qi Lingbo to gain entry to the inner sect.
The third category was made up of those lacking talent, barely qualifying as outer disciples. Aside from a few timid or kind-hearted ones, most had become Qi Lingbo’s lackeys.
After Black Mole identified the first person, Chang Ning had them compete to see who could identify others faster and more accurately. Fearing Chang Ning’s wrath, they didn’t dare hold back, pointing out every last detail.
As more and more lackeys were identified, they grew desperate. Some of the more skilled ones thought they could overpower Chang Ning with numbers. Chang Ning smiled broadly, his palms striking, fingers jabbing, and legs kicking. His clothes fluttered like crane feathers as he swiftly took down over a dozen opponents.
One disciple, his face bruised and swollen, shouted angrily, “Chang if you’ve got any guts, go after Qi Lingbo! What’s the point in bullying us small fry?”
Chang Ning laughed, “She’s got the sect leader for a father. What about you? Maybe I don’t have the guts to go after Qi Lingbo, but I’ve got more than enough to break your dog’s legs. You’re such an idiot! Didn’t you consider whether you were worthy of being someone’s lackey before you signed up?”
Chang Ning continued his verbal and physical assault.
A square-faced disciple struggled free and spoke righteously: “Young Master Chang, I’ve never approved of Miss Qi’s actions and have even advised against them. I know you’ve suffered some grievances in recent months, but Miss Qi merely has a bad temper and hasn’t truly harmed you. Your father’s chivalrous reputation is widely known. As his son, seeking personal revenge would tarnish your late father’s name! Why don’t we turn this conflict into…”
Before he could finish, Chang Ning leaped to his side and struck him hard across the face with a loud “smack,” sending the square-faced disciple flying two zhang away. His cheek swelled up instantly, and several teeth fell out.
Chang Ning pursued him, placing a foot on the square-faced disciple’s chest and grinding down repeatedly.
“You’re more despicable than the others. Those little bastards at least know they’re doing wrong, but you put on this facade of impartiality. You’re just trying to catch Qi Lingbo’s attention by acting differently. Your false righteousness is disgusting!”
Cai Zhao also disliked the square-faced disciple’s words and felt a sense of satisfaction seeing Chang Ning beat him—apparently, being a great hero meant only serving others and never avenging personal grudges.
The square-faced disciple, pinned down by Chang Ning, could only mumble pleas for help.
At this point, a tall, thin young man who had been observing silently could no longer stand by. He drew his sword and intervened: “Young Master Chang, that’s enough! Not everyone here approves of bullying others, but your rampage has gone too far.”
Cai Zhao noticed the tall youth’s agile movements and realized he had some skill.
Chang Ning let out a short, cold laugh. He casually broke off a thin branch from a nearby tree, held it in his left hand with his right hand behind his back, and motioned for the tall youth to attack. The young man quickly raised his sword in response.
The branch was flexible, the sword sharp, but as they engaged, onlookers saw the gleaming sword struggling against the dull shadow of the branch. In Chang Ning’s hands, the ordinary branch became as supple as a bone whip and as sharp as a cicada’s wing. The branch’s shadow danced gracefully, leaving no trace—this was the famous “Willow Fluff Sword Technique” of Chang Haosheng.
In just seven or eight moves, the tall youth’s face, arms, and chest were struck multiple times by the branch, leaving either bloody marks or torn clothes. Tired of the fight, Chang Ning suddenly grabbed the youth’s chest with his right hand and lightly tossed him away. The young man fell to the ground with a thud.
Chang Ning lightly waved the branch in front of him and said coldly, “Don’t preach kindness if you haven’t experienced others’ suffering. Since you didn’t stand up for the weak before, don’t Freaking preach now! Get lost!”
…
While chaos reigned outside, an elegant room in a side courtyard remained undisturbed.
“Uncle Master, aren’t you going to do something about this?” Fan Xingjia anxiously wiped his sweat.
The old man on the long chair calmly poured tea, his tone steady: “There’s more than one Uncle Master in the outer sect. Why did you come to bother me? By the way, why didn’t Da Lou come himself?”
“Senior Brother is away with Master. I had no choice but to come,” Fan Xingjia replied.
The old man said, “You shouldn’t have come either.”
“Uncle Master?” Fan Xingjia was surprised.
The old man was Uncle Master Li Wenxun, who oversaw the outer disciples.
He inhaled the aroma from his slender teacup, looking content. “Xingjia, you were recommended for the inner sect. Before you left the outer sect, didn’t I tell you something? Just follow your Uncle Master Lei and mind your own business.”
Fan Xingjia hesitated.
“I know it’s difficult for you. You love excitement and making friends—that’s not bad, but…” Li Wenxun patiently continued, “You need to learn to turn a blind eye and a deaf ear sometimes.”
After a moment of silence, Fan Xingjia asked, “So, we’re not going to do anything about what’s happening outside?”
“How can we?!” Uncle Master Li slammed down his teacup, displeased. “Where did this all start? It started with our Sect Leader’s beloved daughter throwing her weight around for years, and the Sect Leader’s wife always showing favoritism! When the top beam is crooked, the lower ones will follow. If the inner sect can’t sort out their mess, what can we in the outer sect do?!”
He paused, then said, “Don’t get involved in this. From now on, pretend you know nothing about such matters.”
Fan Xingjia lowered his head, at a loss.
Uncle Master Li placed a hand on his shoulder and solemnly advised: “Your mentor, Wang Dingchuan, was one of the former Seven Peaks Elders. Now, your fellow disciples are scattered, with only you fortunate enough to remain carefree. Let me teach you something today—”
“Xingjia, you’re a good kid. Don’t try to please everyone. Because not everyone is worth it.”
…
As the night deepened and the moon rose high, Chang Ning had rounded up all of Qi Lingbo’s lackeys. At Cai Zhao’s suggestion, he herded them to a nearby mountain hollow to avoid disturbing others’ sleep.
Once they were alone, Chang Ning let loose on the group of lackeys. Some were beaten until their faces were swollen, others were thrown into mud pits to roll around, and some were made to slap each other while hurling accusations. Finally, amid tears and snot, they were forced to recite the Qingque Sect rules in unison—quite a spectacle.
Cai Zhao noticed that Chang Ning hadn’t caused any severe injuries or bloodshed. She yawned, ready to head back and rest.
Seeming to notice her fatigue, Chang Ning waved dismissively at the lackeys, declaring that the day’s business was concluded and they should go home to wash up and sleep, warning that staying up late could cause dark circles under their eyes.
The lackeys collapsed in exhaustion but dared not utter a word of protest.
Chang Ning quickly caught up with Cai Zhao, draping his purple lambswool cloak over her shoulders—Cai Zhao had rushed out without warm clothing, while Chang Ning came prepared.
As he helped her fasten the cloak, he rambled, “You shouldn’t have followed me out. I would have returned after finishing the business. Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone bully you again…”
Cai Zhao thought to herself: Actually, I was worried you might bully others.
Feeling uncomfortable wrapped in the warm cloak that carried the young man’s scent, she tried to change the subject. “You should tone it down. You’re so cocky with just half your power restored. What if you anger Qi Lingbo and she gets Senior Brother to deal with you? Senior Brother’s skills are far beyond Dai Lao’er’s. Even if you fully recover, you’d only be twice as strong as tonight, nowhere near a match for Senior Brother!”
Chang Ning looked at her with the fondness one might show a little fool: “Your math must be terrible. How will you manage all the shops in Luoying Town in the future? Half power means half of one power, not half of full power.”
“Tonight was only half of one power?! Haha, hahaha, stop exaggerating!” Cai Zhao couldn’t help but laugh. It wasn’t that her math was poor; she just found it unbelievable. “If you’re that powerful, why not join the sect right away and inherit the Sect Leader position? Oh, great hero, the future glory of the Qingque Sect rests on your shoulders!”
Chang Ning breathed hot air near Cai Zhao, “I couldn’t care less about the Sect Leader position. Let’s go back and have a late-night snack.”
Cai Zhao grew more uncomfortable: “Can you not get so close? I can walk on my own. Besides, it’s the middle of the night, what is there to eat?”
“You can make wonton soup, chicken wonton soup,” Chang Ning said, moving slightly away. “I’ve already asked Furong to prepare the chicken broth, and Feicui has set aside shrimp and meat.”
“You can cook?”
“At least better than you. What I make won’t poison anyone.”
“…What kind of meat is in the filling?”
“The best leg meat. Don’t worry, I’ve asked about everything.”
Under the starry, moonlit sky, the young man’s eyes were dark and bright, gentle and beautiful. Even his poison sores looked more agreeable now.
Cai Zhao felt an inexplicable sense of happiness.
She thought, finally, she could enjoy a satisfying snack.