Chapter 59: This Lord—Better Not Provoke Him!

"Calm down, he's just a brat—no need to pay him any mind."

Yet as he spoke, his gaze remained fixed on Bai Yunchen, who had just entered.

"Excuse me, do you two have an invitation? If not, please leave."

At that moment, a portly man with a bulging belly waddled over and addressed them bluntly.

"Invitation?"

Xiao Yang hadn't heard Jin Buhuan mention anything about an invitation, and looked at Hao Wenlong in confusion. Hao Wenlong had once served the city lord and ought to know the rules. Yet Hao Wenlong's face had grown entirely sullen.

"When did Ten Thousand Treasures Pavilion change its rules?"

"As far as I recall, entry requires only proof of assets worth ten thousand."

Still, Hao Wenlong did not immediately lose his temper; he spoke with calm restraint.

"Enough talk. Do you have an invitation or not?"

The fat manager was growing impatient. He'd heard that the Bai family patriarch had recently made another breakthrough—just half a step away from becoming a Martial Marquis. This was a good chance to make a favorable impression on Bai Yunchen.

Why target Xiao Yang? Simply because Bai Yunchen had just shown him some dissatisfaction. Moreover, Xiao Yang hadn't arrived in a carriage. In North Desert City, there was an unspoken rule: only those of true power and influence traveled in a luxurious carriage. The most extravagant was the City Lord's Land Dragon Palanquin—legend had it that it cost two hundred thousand taels of silver to construct. Xiao Yang was nothing but a pauper—couldn't even afford a carriage!

"No invitation, no entry. Please leave," the fat manager said, clearly displeased.

"Are you looking to die?"

Hao Wenlong couldn't restrain himself any longer. Part of his duty in guarding Xiao Yang involved dealing with fools like this—especially those who dared provoke the city lord's honored guest. Did this fat fool have a death wish?

"I warn you, this is Ten Thousand Treasures Pavilion. If you try anything, you'll be the one thrown out," the fat manager sneered, showing no fear. After all, those who caused trouble here were either thrown out or ended up dead.

"No invitation—then get lost. Stop wasting everyone's time," a young man chimed in irritably. Just then, a carriage arrived—pulled not by horses, but by two massive lion-tiger beasts, each over twenty feet long. The other carriages instinctively pulled aside.

"The Zhao family has arrived," someone murmured.

Xiao Yang's brows shot up and he couldn't help but turn to look, wondering if it was that cranky old man.

The fat manager snapped out of his daze and, moving with surprising speed for his bulk, hurried to the carriage, carefully lifting the curtain.

A man stepped down—it was none other than the Zhao family patriarch, Zhao Wude.

The fat manager beamed and called out obsequiously, "Patriarch Zhao, your presence here is a great honor for us!"

But Zhao Wude merely glanced at him and nodded very slightly, saying nothing.

Still, the fat manager's grin remained plastered to his face as he escorted Zhao Wude inside—only for their way to be blocked.

A bead of cold sweat broke out on the fat manager's brow. Blocking Zhao Wude's path was as good as inviting death for both himself and the culprit.

Instantly, the smile vanished from his face, replaced by a look of fury as he glared at Xiao Yang.

"You still haven't left? Looks like you need some help."

"Guards!"

With a bellow, more than ten martial artists rushed out. Leading them were two powerful fighters, both at the seventh level of Grandmaster.

"Break this brat's legs and throw him out," barked the fat manager.

At his command, the martial artists closed in, ready to move.

"Old man, is this how you treat me?" Xiao Yang said, displeased. Apparently, that million-tael lesson hadn't left a strong enough impression—it had already been forgotten.

A stillness fell—strangely silent. Everyone stared at Xiao Yang, dumbfounded, their minds reeling.

Did this young man just call Zhao Wude "old man"?

He must be insane—truly insane!

All eyes were glued to Xiao Yang in disbelief. To speak to Zhao Wude in such a tone was surely a death sentence.

"Poor fool..."

"It's one thing to offend that fat Wu, at worst you'd lose a leg, but to provoke this killing star..."

"He's finished, that kid is finished," came the murmured judgments from the crowd. Everyone clearly thought Xiao Yang had lost his mind—flirting with death by taunting the Zhao family patriarch in public. Even someone with a death wish wouldn't go this far.

The fat manager's body convulsed with fear. His heart pounded as he raised his hand, ready to slap Xiao Yang across the face.

"You damned brat, looking to die!"

He swung at Xiao Yang, but Zhao Wude snapped out of his shock just in time. This was someone he couldn't afford to cross.

With lightning speed, Zhao Wude grabbed the fat manager's wrist. Without a word, he delivered two crisp slaps to the man's face. In the next instant, several teeth spun through the air.

The fat manager was stunned, clutching his burning cheek, gazing at Zhao Wude in disbelief. He couldn't comprehend—weren't they on the same side? How had the tables turned so quickly? Why was he the one being beaten?

But the fat manager had no time to ponder this, as Zhao Wude clearly found the two slaps insufficient, and moved to the next phase.

Rolling up his sleeves, he seized the fat manager by the collar and, under the latter's bewildered gaze, struck him across the face again and again.

The only sounds filling the air were the sharp cracks of the blows.

Everyone was left stupefied. Why was Zhao Wude suddenly beating up Fat Wu?

"You dare run your filthy mouth? How dare you insult Young Master Xiao—you must have grown tired of living!"

"If I don't beat you to death today, it's only because your fat saved you!"

Blow after blow rained down.

Soon, the fat manager's face was awash with blood.

Zhao Wude felt both frightened and delighted. His cultivation, once at the third level of Martial Marquis, had dropped to the first. The loss of decades of progress had left him in despair at first. But then, to his surprise, the nightmares that had tormented him for decades vanished the night before, and he slept soundly for the first time in years. Old ailments had also healed, and his body now felt as vigorous as in middle age. Most importantly, his cultivation speed had increased dozens of times. It would not be long before he surpassed his previous peak, and his foundation would be all the more solid—his future path in martial arts now smoother than ever.

That very morning, he had been pondering how to forge a connection with Xiao Yang—never expecting that Fat Wu would deliver such a golden opportunity. In his heart, he owed the man a debt of gratitude—a true benefactor!

Yet his blows only grew heavier.

"Enough, enough! Are you trying to kill him?" Even Xiao Yang felt a twinge of pity. The fat manager's loose tongue had just cost him all his teeth—what a ruthless beating!

Zhao Wude shuddered and quickly released his grip, letting the fat manager collapse limply to the ground, his fate uncertain.

"Never, never!" Zhao Wude stammered in fear.

That night had truly terrified him—a martial statue a hundred feet tall! Killing him would have been as simple as a thought. Yet the man had spared him, even given him a chance at rebirth. Zhao Wude had even resolved to craft a statue of Xiao Yang and enshrine it in his home, so that the Zhao family would honor him for generations to come.