Chapter Twenty: The Only Beauty
Let us set aside whatever fantasies High Haitian might be concocting in his mind, for at this moment, upon hearing his own young master’s brazen boast, the three remaining burly attendants felt a sudden chill within.
They cursed their luck silently: Oh dear, young master, if you kept your mouth shut, no one would mistake you for a mute! Nearly twelve years old and still so reckless, utterly incapable of reading the situation.
Yes, yes, our master is formidable—a true innate martial artist. The crux, however, is that the old man is not in Qingyang County, but countless miles away, unable to intervene on our behalf. Even if revenge is taken, it would be in the future! Whether we live to see that day is doubtful.
The girl in pink proved with a single move that she wasn’t someone to be trifled with. Young master, do you want us to become corpses as well? Shouldn’t we be begging for mercy or fleeing for our lives? It’s us three who have to fight, and regardless of the outcome, none of us will fare well. Yet here you are, further provoking them.
We might handle the black beggar, but the beautiful girl is beyond us. You may not value your life, but we most certainly do!
The three men roared inwardly, desperate and tearless.
The Sacred Hands Martial Hall was renowned throughout Qiuhe Prefecture, being the premier establishment and dominating the martial hall rankings since its founding. Its master, Gao Ba, was one of the few innate experts in the prefecture, his reputation so towering he paid little heed to other martial artists.
So when his son, High Haitian, clamored to visit his cousin in Qingyang County, Gao Ba merely dispatched four bodyguards, confident in their security. In all of Qingyang, none dared so much as harm a single hair on his precious son’s head.
Some spectators might ask, are there not other innate experts? Indeed, Gao Ba was not alone; even a duck's nest might yield a swan, and sparrows may turn into phoenixes.
In terms of personal strength, Gao Ba had rivals. But for wealth, influence, and background, he stood peerless in Qiuhe Prefecture. The other innate martial artists were solitary cultivators, lacking family backing, disciples, or hundreds of henchmen. Focused on their training, they had neither the time nor inclination to stir up trouble.
The Ma siblings, however, were a wild card. No one but the Su family knew of their existence, nor that Ma Qingyun had reached the threshold of advanced innate mastery, far surpassing Gao Ba.
On Yaohua Continent, the higher the rank, the greater the gulf between martial artists. One at the peak of initial innate level and another at the advanced stage—though seemingly separated by a mere step, the difference is vast and cannot be compared.
If Gao Ba fails to break through, his achievements will be forever capped at the entry-level of innate mastery. Cultivation is easy; breakthroughs are hard. It requires not only opportunity but also talent and insight—an understanding of the martial path.
Without knowledge of oneself or the enemy, defeat is inevitable. The future for Sacred Hands Martial Hall and Gao Ba is bleak—his son has offended those he should never have offended.
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Luo Changning watched High Haitian, who still wore a smug look, spewing words with reckless abandon. She spoke coldly, “You are you, and your father is your father. Hiding behind others day after day—what kind of man is that? Even a turtle dreams of wooing a swan, how ridiculous.”
Luo Changning, across both her current and previous lives, had lived a total of twenty-six years. Although circumstances left her with limited worldly experience, she understood a little of the ways between men and women.
Unlike Ma Xue’e, whose disgust at their teasing was merely instinctive, Luo Changning’s anger was deep and genuine, rising from her very soul.
Back when Luo Changning was still “007,” there had been only one girl who treated him sincerely, played with him, never mocked his disability. In his brief life, outside of books, she was his sole joy.
Every afternoon, the girl would bring a book to Luo Changning’s room, coax him to tell her stories for two or three hours at a time. He thought of her as a sister, a playmate, a friend—his soul’s comfort and solace.
He believed their happiness would last forever, until the day she was adopted. Fate, alas, delights in cruelty.
Luo Changning worried she might suffer after adoption, yet hoped she would find happiness with a kind family. But the ending left him anguished and enraged.
Those happy day