"Junior Brother just moved in yesterday and hasn't even had a hot meal, and you're running over here bright and early today to collect your bullshit protection fee?!"
At the sound of that voice, Xiao Hai's imposing and overbearing air evaporated instantly.
His face twisted into something exceedingly ugly.
He retracted the spiritual pressure pressing down on Mo Fan like he'd touched a hot stove, secretly gnashing his teeth and cursing under his breath: "Bad luck! Why is this mad dog here?!"
He knew full well that the protection money was gone today. It was a complete wash.
Xiao Hai abruptly stood up, forcefully trying to salvage what dignity he could.
He shot Mo Fan a cold look, flicked his sleeves, and left behind a sinister, harsh parting threat:
"Junior Brother. We have a long future ahead of us here on Hundred Forging Peak. Think carefully about the benefits of the Mutual Aid Society."
"Your Senior Brother has pressing matters today—I won't linger!"
After saying that, he didn't even dare to summon his flying sword.
Like a wretched rat, he scurried rapidly close to the ground, fleeing the canyon in the blink of an eye.
BOOM!
Almost the moment Xiao Hai's back disappeared, that streak of sword light landed steadily in the courtyard.
The glow dissipated, revealing a tall, sturdy youth in a washed-out, even somewhat tattered gray robe.
He had sword-like eyebrows and starry eyes, with the bearing of someone who carried himself well, but his hair was a messy bird's nest, as if he hadn't washed it for days.
"Runs faster than a rabbit!"
The gray-robed youth spat in the direction of Xiao Hai's escape. Then he turned around, his previous ferocity vanishing completely.
He burst into a wide, open laugh and gave Mo Fan a hearty, heroic cupped-fist salute:
"Little Junior Brother, I didn't scare you, did I? Don't worry about him!"
"I am Wu Kuan of Hundred Forging Peak! That Xiao Hai is just a bully who picks on the weak and fears the strong, all talk and no substance."
"Relying on having arrived a few years earlier, he specializes in scamming new disciples."
Wu Kuan patted his chest and declared loudly: "I can't stand his hypocritical two-faced act!"
"From now on, in this back mountain, if he dares to come looking for you to collect any protection fees again, just slap him across the face! If you can't beat him—report my name, Wu Kuan!"
The gray-robed youth's laughter echoed through the early morning canyon—full-throated, unguarded, and carrying not a single shadow of ulterior motive.
Mo Fan looked toward the canyon entrance.
That "smiling tiger" named Xiao Hai hadn't even dared to summon the flying sword he was so proud of just now.
Like a beaten stray dog with its tail between its legs, he had scrambled and crawled close to the ground, slipping away without a trace in the blink of an eye.
"That escape speed is quite a unique talent."
Mo Fan sneered inwardly. Actually, even if Wu Kuan hadn't appeared just now, he was already prepared to verbally flay this hypocritical extortionist until he left in disgust.
On this Hundred Forging Peak, sure enough, none of those exiled here were fuel-efficient lamps (easy to deal with).
That Xiao Hai looked gentle and refined, but in reality, he had the soul of something rotten to the bone.
He was originally a formal disciple on one of the main peaks. Due to his wicked mind, he secretly smuggled sect combat supplies on the side and was even suspected of framing fellow disciples during training expeditions.
But because he kept his hands clean and left no decisive hard evidence, although the enforcement elders of the main peak were disgusted by him, they couldn't directly cripple his cultivation.
They simply waved their pens and kicked him like a ball into this abandoned back mountain mine to fend for himself.
And the gray-robed youth Wu Kuan before him, who descended from the sky radiating righteousness, had a completely different background.
He was the nominal "Eldest Senior Brother" among the dozen or so weirdos on Hundred Forging Peak.
Wu Kuan was originally a peerless genius possessing a mid-grade Earth Spirit Root and an exceptionally high natural affinity for Sword Qi. He was once a core true legacy seed on the main peak, enjoying boundless glory and a brilliant future.
However, the tallest tree catches the most wind.
Because of his straightforward and uncompromising nature, he unfortunately got swept into the extremely deep and brutal factional infighting of the sect's higher-ups, becoming a casualty of political struggle.
Ultimately, he was framed by a rival faction with the trumped-up charge of "offending the Patriarch's Hall," had his wings forcibly broken, and was exiled to this godforsaken place.
Of course, the newly arrived Mo Fan was completely unaware of these complex background details at this moment.
But having read countless people across two lifetimes, his instincts were still somewhat sharp.
"Although this Hundred Forging Peak breeds its share of freaks and scumbags, this Eldest Senior Brother has clear eyes and zero tolerance for injustice. He's the real deal."
Mo Fan nodded secretly in his heart, his first impression of Wu Kuan being excellent. In this cold and calculating cultivation world, encountering someone willing to forcefully stand up for a newcomer they had never met was truly rare.
"Many thanks to Eldest Senior Brother for stepping in."
Mo Fan straightened his rumpled collar, put on a grateful smile, and stepped forward with a polite bow:
"If Senior Brother hadn't arrived in time, I'm afraid this little brother really would have had a layer of skin peeled off by that Xiao Hai today."
"Senior Brother, please come inside quickly. It's early and cold; let this little brother brew you a cup of hot tea."
"Haha! Why is Little Junior Brother being so formal!"
Wu Kuan waved his hand heartily. "Just lifting a finger, that's all. Hey? Wait!"
Wu Kuan stopped mid-sentence.
He had originally been preparing to decline Mo Fan's invitation, but when his gaze landed on Mo Fan...
Those originally clear and righteous sword-eyes suddenly underwent a profound, deeply strange change.
He wasn't looking at Mo Fan's face, which was full of gratitude.
His eyes, like two searchlights snapping on, lit up abruptly.
He stared dead at Mo Fan's bronze muscles, visibly coiled with explosive force beneath the torn cloth shirt that had been shredded from doing hard labor last night.
It was the gaze of a starving wolf that hadn't eaten for three days and three nights suddenly spotting a prime, bone-in ribeye steak!
"S-Senior Brother...?"
Mo Fan felt his scalp crawl under that burning, borderline unhinged stare. He subconsciously took half a step back, his hands involuntarily rising to cover his chest.
"That frame... that Qi and blood..."
Wu Kuan completely ignored Mo Fan's defensive posture. He was so excited that his breathing became heavy.
He took a sudden lunge forward, a pair of large hands clamping down on Mo Fan's shoulders fiercely like iron vises.
CRACK!
The unconscious explosive force of a Foundation Establishment cultivator. Mo Fan's shoulder blade let out an audible pop.
If he hadn't already reached the entry level of Iron Bones, that grip would have shattered it.
"What a hard skeletal frame! What a solid physical body!"
Wu Kuan shouted excitedly, the light in his eyes reaching a frankly alarming intensity.
"Little Junior Brother! That loudmouth Ziwei sent me a sound transmission talisman! He said a monster arrived at our Hundred Forging Peak!"
"The only tough guy in the entire Outer Court Tournament who, without a shred of spiritual Qi, relied purely on external physical tempering to forcefully launch those spell cultivators off the stage with his bare hands!"
"I skipped my morning training today and rode my sword over here early specifically to see with my own eyes exactly how hard a man who can push body cultivation to this level really is!"
While speaking, Wu Kuan couldn't resist punching Mo Fan's arm twice—thud, thud—testing the resistance with obvious delight.
"Then I get here and find Xiao Hai that spineless worm bullying someone, so it was good timing. But that's not why I came looking for you today!"
Mo Fan stared at the gray-robed youth before him—eyes blazing, entire brain apparently occupied by the concepts of "hardness" and "impact"—and felt something in his mind begin to quietly come apart.
"Little Junior Brother!"
In order not to leave behind gossip of "the big bullying the small, relying on strength to oppress the weak," Wu Kuan took a very deliberate, very chivalrous step backward.
Then he pressed both hands together violently in front of his chest.
HUM——!
A dull concussive sound rang out.
Wu Kuan voluntarily locked down the surging Foundation Establishment spiritual energy inside him, forcibly suppressing his own cultivation aura down to the level of peak Qi Condensation.
"Little Junior Brother! Come on!"
He raised both fists and dropped into a textbook close-combat opening stance. He looked at Mo Fan with an expression of absolute, suffocating enthusiasm.
"Every junior brother on this Hundred Forging Peak goes down in one hit. Boring as hell!"
"Today, forget inner sect and outer court identities! Forget sword techniques and spells! Just pure muscle and blood—a real man's spar, hearty and dripping wet!"
"Show me where your limit is! Throw a punch!"
The cold morning wind swept through the canyon and hit Mo Fan in the face.
He stood perfectly still.
He looked at Wu Kuan across from him—stance set, battle intent blazing, looking like he was one second away from launching himself forward and biting someone.
The expression on Mo Fan's face, in that moment, completely and utterly collapsed.
"..."
Deep inside Mo Fan's soul, a magnitude-ten tsunami was raging frantically. An uncountable herd of mythical alpacas screamed at the heavens.
I fucking...
Mo Fan's fists clenched until his knuckles went white. From the very bottom of his being came a howl of pure, bleeding anguish.
I spent the ENTIRE NIGHT digging a tunnel in this godforsaken canyon!!
Didn't drink a single drop of water!!
I JUST finished the base, JUST lay down on the bed, JUST closed my eyes to catch up on sleep!!
And first, some smiling-faced thug knocks my door open and tries to take HALF MY MONTHLY STIPEND as protection money!!
And now, NOW—after I finally ground that insufferable leech down and got rid of him by playing dumb—YOU want to drag me, a "useless cripple," into a FISTFIGHT?!
Dead inside.
Ultimate loss of the will to live.
The soft morning light spilled onto Mo Fan's face, illuminating with perfect clarity the two deep, dark circles carved beneath his eyes by an all-nighter and complete mental exhaustion.
He looked at Wu Kuan—vibrating with excitement like an overstimulated silverback gorilla—and his body swayed slightly.
He could feel his mental defenses preparing to snap with a very final-sounding crack.
An autumn wind drifted through the canyon.
Mo Fan tilted his head back.
Something suspiciously crystal-clear flickered at the corner of his eye.
From the deepest, most forsaken pit of his soul, he unleashed a single, devastating cry of despair:
"IS THERE EVEN A SINGLE FUCKING NORMAL PERSON ON THIS HUNDRED FORGING PEAK?!?!?!"
"I JUST WANT TO SLEEP AHHHHHHH!!!!!!"