Chapter Twenty-Two: Avenging a Friend

With Old Mo’s reassurance, Lin Xiaobao finally felt at ease. “What exactly happened?” he asked.

At this moment, besides Hu Dequan, the browless youth was also watching over Wang Dashan. The two of them recounted the general course of events.

Lin Xiaobao could only shake his head helplessly. He had never wanted to get involved in this matter—he was no sage, much less a savior, and other people’s lives or deaths had nothing to do with him. What did it matter to him if the old disciples stole the newcomers’ resources?

But Wang Dashan had been injured because of him, and even in such a state still worried for his safety. Lin Xiaobao knew he could no longer stand aside. Seeing the worry etched on the two faces, he said, “He’ll be fine. A few days’ rest and he’ll recover.”

“He’s been unconscious for two whole hours, and you say he’ll be fine?” Lin Xiaobao’s indifference finally ignited the nameless fire that had been smoldering in the browless youth’s heart. His voice rose, drawing the attention of many disciples nearby.

“I can’t imagine how Dashan ended up with a friend like you. He was wounded so badly for your sake, and yet you stand here talking as if nothing happened!”

“He’s seriously hurt and you say he’ll be fine in a few days?” …

Many began to whisper about Lin Xiaobao. In just half a year, thanks to Old Mo’s “Savage Strength Technique,” Wang Dashan had cultivated to the sixth level of martial training, and his physique had unleashed formidable power. It was largely because of him that the newcomers had managed to withstand the pressure from the senior disciples today, and he had won much admiration among the new arrivals.

Yet now, Lin Xiaobao’s attitude immediately aroused disdain. If not for Lin Xiaobao being insulted, Wang Dashan wouldn’t have risked his life against the eighth-level senior disciple. And Lin Xiaobao, instead of showing concern, simply said he’d be fine in a few days.

At this moment, everyone looked at Lin Xiaobao with disgust.

Lin Xiaobao’s gaze swept over the crowd, instantly understanding their thoughts. But he couldn’t be bothered to explain to these irrelevant people. Instead, he turned to the browless youth and asked, “Will they come again tomorrow?”

“Yes. If I’m not mistaken, there’ll be more of them, and they’ll be stronger than today’s lot,” the youth replied, turning away as he spoke. The goodwill he’d felt yesterday, when Lin Xiaobao had held off eight of them to protect Wang Dashan, vanished completely. “If you’re afraid, you can just hide!”

“Tomorrow, I’ll avenge Dashan!” Lin Xiaobao said, then sat cross-legged by Wang Dashan’s side.

Avenge him? That was an eighth-level senior disciple—how would you avenge him? By running circles around him until he was exhausted? Lin Xiaobao’s words only made people think he was putting on a show. Some even looked forward to seeing him get thoroughly beaten tomorrow—would he then claim a few days’ rest would fix everything?

With thoughts of the coming battle, the commotion soon subsided. The disciples returned to their own rest, each recovering their strength. Though defeat seemed certain, they had no way out. The only thing left was to take a bite out of the senior disciples, win or lose—without that spirit, what right did they have to speak of cultivation?

Meng Ying returned and, seeing Lin Xiaobao keeping watch over Wang Dashan, said nothing more, but also began to recover her own strength after a long day.

With a thunderous crash, the doors of Hongwu Hall were violently kicked open. More than two hundred senior disciples filed in.

All the new disciples stood together, facing their adversaries. Though they had a slight advantage in numbers, their spirits were far from high.

“Are you going to hand over your contribution points or not?” The speaker was Han Yongfeng, a ninth-level martial artist, his voice cold and harsh. He seemed very displeased that his fellow disciples had failed to complete such a simple task the day before.

“Who was it that injured my brother yesterday?” At that moment, an even colder voice rang out from a corner of Hongwu Hall, instantly drawing everyone’s gaze.

Lin Xiaobao stood up from Wang Dashan’s side, his frosty gaze sweeping over the senior disciples one by one. The anger he’d suppressed all night finally erupted.

Is this kid crazy? That was the thought in every new disciple’s mind. They’d all assumed Lin Xiaobao was bluffing the night before, and that he’d disappear as soon as the fight began. No one had expected him to actually step forward.

Hu Dequan’s gaze toward Lin Xiaobao grew complicated. The man before him seemed nothing like the storyteller he’d once met in Howling Moon City. That sharp, chilling look wasn’t even directed at him, but just the aftershock was enough to make Hu Dequan’s heart skip a beat. He couldn’t help but recall the scene by the moat—was there truly some secret to this man?

Only Meng Ying, who had witnessed Lin Xiaobao’s speed the night before, felt a faint sense of anticipation.

“So you’re that peerless runner?” Under Lin Xiaobao’s sharp gaze, Han Yongfeng was stunned for a moment before realizing who he was dealing with—the swift-footed one, the one who owned a storage pouch. Tilting his head, he said, “Monkey, someone’s looking for you!”

From among the senior disciples, a gaunt, sharp-featured man leapt out. “I’m the one who injured him yesterday. What do you want?”

Before robbing the newcomers, these senior disciples had done their homework. They knew a bit about this year’s intake. Though some had talent, Lin Xiaobao was not among them. Yet being challenged like this, Monkey felt his dignity was being trampled.

Lin Xiaobao strode forward, enunciating each word: “You struck my brother three times yesterday. Today, I’ll land three blows on your chest. Whether you withstand them or not is up to your fate.”

Monkey threw his head back and laughed as if he’d just heard the world’s funniest joke. “Come, come—let’s play, then!”

“Don’t, Xiaobao! He’s an eighth-level martial artist, and his footwork is incredibly fast. You’re not his match—come back!” If Lin Xiaobao’s attitude yesterday had made the browless youth look down on him, today his actions earned a measure of respect. The senior disciples might not kill, but their attacks were extremely ruthless. He couldn’t help but worry for Lin Xiaobao.

Monkey glanced at the storage pouch at Lin Xiaobao’s waist and grinned smugly. “If I can’t take your storage pouch within three moves, I’ll let you go today!”

But Lin Xiaobao simply shook his head. “I have no intention of letting you go today.”

“Arrogant enough! But in Frost and Snow Pavilion, arrogance comes at a price!” Monkey was at the edge of losing control, goaded again and again by Lin Xiaobao.

“Price?” Lin Xiaobao looked at the furious Monkey and retorted, “Do you have the right to be arrogant? You joined Frost and Snow Pavilion five years before us, didn’t you? If you were truly capable, you’d already be a formal disciple, not just an old outer disciple here to rob us of our resources!”

He spat out the words “old outer disciple” with deliberate emphasis, as if stepping on every senior’s sore spot. Though they could swagger before the new disciples today, the fact that five years had passed without advancing to formal disciple was a deep shame. Now, with Lin Xiaobao’s words cutting into that wound, every one of them wished they could tear him limb from limb.