Chapter 28: The Miserable Fate of Meng Changsheng

“Hmph! Tell me, who beat you up.”
Once his anger had cooled, he was ready to avenge his unfilial son.
The answer he received, however, left him stunned.
“No, no one hit me.”
“Then why are you so flustered?”
“I signed a deed of servitude...”
Meng Haotian’s hand suddenly began to tremble.
His eyes widened, hardly able to believe what he was hearing.
“What did you say?”
Even his voice quivered.
“I—I signed a deed of servitude,” Meng Changsheng repeated softly, head bowed, retreating two steps in fear as he spoke.
“Come here,” Meng Haotian roared, rolling up his sleeves and yanking Meng Changsheng over.
Two crisp slaps rang out.
Then, a furious roar followed.
“Explain yourself! Tell me everything, and if you don’t make it clear, I’ll beat you to death right here!”
Meng Haotian felt as though his lungs might burst from rage.
He was, after all, the Second Elder of the sect—yet someone dared to scheme against his son.
No matter how this matter began, once he understood the situation, he would find out who had the audacity to make his son sign a deed of servitude.
“Hah! Just because I keep to myself, they think I’m easy to bully.”
With a cold laugh in his heart, he made up his mind—the culprit would pay dearly.
Meng Changsheng was sobbing from the two slaps, fresh red marks blossoming on his cheeks.
“You still have the nerve to cry? Swallow it back!”
Seeing his son cowering, Meng Haotian grew even angrier.
To think he’d sign a deed of servitude!
He’d brought shame to generations of ancestors.
Hearing Meng Haotian’s roar, Meng Changsheng forced himself to hold back his tears and began recounting the day’s events.
“It happened like this. I went to look for Senior Sister Yan, but she wasn’t there. Then I remembered the punishment for that good-for-nothing was ending today...”
Meng Haotian raised his hand and, without a word, slapped him again.
“Hah! Good-for-nothing? Which one? Tell me clearly.”
Meng Changsheng immediately corrected himself.
“Xiao Yang’s punishment ended today. I was looking for Senior Sister Yan...”
After hearing the whole story, Meng Haotian’s face darkened.
He realized that his foolish son had sold himself for the sake of a woman.
“You unfilial son,” he panted heavily, barely restraining himself from slapping his son to death.
To sell yourself for a woman!
“Father, I was wrong...”
Meng Changsheng lowered his head, admitting fault.
But as soon as he spoke, Meng Haotian grabbed his collar.
Almost instinctively, Meng Changsheng cried out in misery.
“Father! Don’t hit my face!”
He wrapped his arms tightly around his face.
After a moment without pain, he peeked through his arms in confusion, trying to see what was happening.
“You disgraceful thing, follow me.”
Meng Haotian had regained his composure—this was still his son, after all. If he really beat him badly, there’d be nowhere to seek justice.
“Where are we going...”
Seeing Meng Haotian raging like a lion, Meng Changsheng shrank back and asked timidly.
“We’re going to void the deed of servitude. You may not care about your reputation, but I do!”
The thought of his son signing a deed of servitude made him feel utterly ill at ease.
He was the Second Elder of Giant Spirit Sect—matters of dignity could not be taken lightly.
Meng Changsheng dared not argue, following obediently.
“Senior brother, this is Zhao Wealth’s residence.”
Meanwhile, Xiao Yang had found Zhao Wealth’s house.
It was a small, detached courtyard.
“Seems this fat man lives quite comfortably.”
To own an independent courtyard spoke not only of his strength but also his wealth.
This little courtyard cost at least twenty thousand taels of silver a year.
Of course, its price was justified—each had a small spirit-gathering formation.
Cultivating inside was several times more effective than outside.
“Naturally. This fat man earns at least three hundred thousand taels a year, not counting the good years,” Zhou Yan explained softly.
Hearing this, Xiao Yang smiled, delighted.
He had been worried Zhao Wealth couldn’t pay his debts.
But now it seemed, the fat man had quite a bit in savings.
“Heh, my money—here I come!”
He chuckled, about to knock, when suddenly the courtyard gate swung open.
Four pairs of eyes met, all momentarily stunned.
A haggard, chubby man stood there, staring dumbly.
Xiao Yang almost didn’t recognize him—the fat man, now noticeably thinner, was Zhao Wealth.
Seven days had passed, and he’d lost at least twenty or thirty pounds.
“Junior Brother Zhao, long time no see.”
Xiao Yang greeted him warmly.
Zhao Wealth, recognizing the smiling figure, trembled—this was the man who had haunted his nightmares for days.
“Senior—Senior Xiao... hello.”
As he spoke, his vision darkened.
No one could imagine what he had endured in those seven days.
He’d thought he was taking advantage, but in the end, he was the one taken advantage of.
The thought of having to hand over a million taels of silver had left him unable to eat or sleep, starving himself thin.
When he heard Xiao Yang had survived, he fainted dead away.
Now, just awake and stepping out for air, he had run straight into his creditor.
“Excellent, excellent!”
Xiao Yang replied, throwing an arm around his shoulder as if they were lifelong friends.
Yet Zhao Wealth could hardly hold back his tears.
Years of painstaking savings, and now he’d be back to square one overnight.
He could pay the million, but it was everything he had.
To save up, he’d had to meet several conditions: daily expenses, cultivation resources—his talent was ordinary, so he’d spent much more than others, burning through millions just to reach his current position.
Xiao Yang didn’t want to waste words. He wanted to get the silver, raise his cultivation, and move on.
He smiled and said,
“So, Junior Brother Zhao, shall we settle our account?”
At these words, Zhao Wealth shook like a leaf, despair in his eyes.
He groaned inwardly,
“Sigh! What must come, comes.”
He had no intention of defaulting—Xiao Yang was no longer the worthless servant who’d spent ten years at the outer gate.
If he tried to renege, Xiao Yang wouldn’t even need to act; Zhou Yan alone could make him regret it.
“Senior Brother Xiao, there’s been a little trouble with my funds, so...”
Zhao Wealth looked troubled.
His silver had been invested half a month ago.
No matter how profitable Giant Spirit Sect was, earnings were always limited, so he’d invested all his savings—one hundred and twenty thousand taels—into buying a shop in Northern Desert City.
Now, he had only ten thousand taels in hand for daily use.
He’d thought it would be enough, but in just seven days, he’d lost a million taels.