Chapter 17: The Slug

“Hmph! I can’t believe it—you’ve wasted ten years as a servant for nothing,” the young man sneered, glancing coldly at him with undisguised disdain. As he spoke, he straightened his back with deliberate pride.

“Listen up, you good-for-nothing. I am the man of Senior Sister Yan’er, and more than that, a genius who became a core disciple by my own strength... Meng Changsheng!” He lifted his chin, ready to bask in admiration.

“Meng Changsheng? Never heard of you,” Xiao Yang replied frankly, shaking his head. Still, the name did sound vaguely familiar, as if he had heard it somewhere before.

Meng Changsheng’s triumphant smile froze instantly; he stood there dumbfounded. After several heartbeats, he finally regained his senses.

“How could you not know my name? I’m Meng Changsheng—the genius Meng!” Meng stammered, his disbelief edged with anxiety.

All he received in return was a cold, unfeeling glance from Xiao Yang. “Never heard of you.”

Meng Changsheng stood rooted to the spot, as if his soul had left his body. Beside him, Zhou Yan covered her mouth, struggling to suppress her laughter.

“Wait, I remember now,” Xiao Yang suddenly said.

Hope flared in Meng Changsheng’s eyes as he looked at Xiao Yang, anticipation burning. “So you do remember?”

But once again, it was only those two chilling words: “Nope.”

What Xiao Yang remembered was simply Meng Changsheng’s claim that Yan’er was his woman. That alone was enough reason for Xiao Yang to thrash him eight hundred times over.

He slowly advanced on Meng Changsheng. “You were acting pretty cocky just now, weren’t you? But let’s see if you can take a beating.”

His knuckles cracked loudly as he clenched his fist, clearly about to strike.

Meng Changsheng’s gaze flickered with scorn. “You think you can beat me?”

Xiao Yang let out a cold laugh. “Why don’t we find out?”

He was about to throw a punch when he felt someone grab his hand. He turned, momentarily stunned, and for some reason felt a vague sense of indignity.

“Wait... do you really like this guy?” he asked Zhou Yan in astonishment.

She rolled her eyes at him and snapped, “Senior Brother, what are you thinking? He’s Second Uncle’s son. If you hit him, Second Uncle will come after you, and I won’t stop him.”

She was helpless—there was no way her senior brother could beat a Martial Master. But for the sake of Xiao Yang’s dignity, she phrased it more gently.

“Uh...” Xiao Yang was briefly distracted, mumbling under his breath, “Meng Haotian, Meng Changsheng?”

At last he realized why the name sounded familiar. He had met this brat before. It had just been so long that he hadn’t made the connection.

When he first arrived, he and Zhou Yan would always find themselves joined by a snot-nosed little boy. Later, he’d asked his master about the child and learned he was the Second Elder’s son.

“So you’re that little snot-nose,” Xiao Yang said, surprised.

He would never have guessed that this fellow, who had once trailed after him everywhere, was now standing before him so boldly.

“I am not a snot-nose!” Meng Changsheng roared, his anger flaring. “I’m Meng Changsheng—the genius Meng Changsheng!”

Xiao Yang raised an eyebrow. “Have you never been beaten before?”

Meng Changsheng snorted. He’d heard plenty about this so-called waste—ten years a servant in the outer sect, with nothing to show for it.

“You useless trash, you think you can beat me?” As he spoke, he released a faint surge of inner energy, glaring at Xiao Yang with open provocation.

“Meng Changsheng!” Before Xiao Yang could respond, Zhou Yan shouted his name sharply.

He glanced at her, fear flickering in his eyes, and instinctively shrank back. Normally, he would have surrendered at once—but today was different.

“Senior Sister Yan’er, this is a contest between men. Please do not interfere!” he declared, forcing himself to sound bold and righteous.

But Zhou Yan had no intention of indulging him. She stepped forward, ready to teach him a lesson.

“Senior Sister Yan’er, you can’t do this!” Meng Changsheng recoiled in fright, backing away rapidly. As Zhou Yan closed in, desperation crept into his voice. He shouted at Xiao Yang, “Xiao Yang, if you’re a man, face me fairly! Hiding behind Senior Sister Yan’er—what kind of man does that?”

Zhou Yan raised her fist, her voice icy. “Don’t pay any mind to him, Senior Brother. This kid is just asking for a beating.”

Meng Changsheng gulped, his legs trembling. It was practically written across his face: I’m terrified.

He could even feel the rush of air from her fist drawing closer.

With a loud smack—

“Ah! It hurts, it hurts!” he howled, as if several bones had just been broken.

“Really? Does it hurt that much?” Zhou Yan’s voice rang out. Meng Changsheng was stunned, then realized he actually felt no pain at all.

He opened his eyes in confusion.

There, just before his face, Zhou Yan’s fist had been stopped by someone else.

He followed the hand and saw a young man grinning at him.

“Thank you—wait, no, if you have the guts, fight me fair and square!” he blurted, then quickly corrected himself, remembering who he was supposed to be challenging.

Seeing Meng Changsheng still itching for a duel, Zhou Yan lost her patience.

“Meng Changsheng, are you looking for trouble?”

This time, Meng Changsheng shrank back and muttered, “She’s always protecting that deadweight. How am I worse than him?”

Zhou Yan finally couldn’t stand it and prepared to deal with him herself.

But Xiao Yang reached out to stop her.

“Yan’er, the kid has a point. I can’t always hide behind you.”

“I don’t mind! I’d protect Senior Brother for a lifetime,” Zhou Yan blurted out.

Realizing what she’d said, her cheeks flushed bright red.

Xiao Yang’s heart warmed, but he smiled and explained, “I’d love to be protected by you, but I’m a man, so...”

He trailed off.

Yan’er asked anxiously, “So what, Senior Brother?”

Meng Changsheng was also listening intently, eager to hear what Xiao Yang would do.

“So I have to be the one to beat him up,” Xiao Yang declared.

Both of them stared in surprise, but for different reasons. Zhou Yan burst into laughter, clutching her stomach, while Meng Changsheng’s face burned with shame and fury as he threw a punch.

“No!” Zhou Yan cried out, startled by the sudden attack—she had no time to react, and could only watch helplessly as the fist flew toward Xiao Yang.

“That’s enough, the game’s over,” Xiao Yang said, moving at last. He brushed aside the incoming punch and, with his right hand, delivered a sharp flick to Meng Changsheng’s forehead.

“Ow! That hurts!” Meng Changsheng yelped, staggering back and clutching his head.

Zhou Yan, meanwhile, was bewildered. She remembered Xiao Yang had always been considered untalented, but just now, he’d moved even faster than she could.

“Senior Brother, did you break through?” she asked uncertainly.