"Ughhhh!"
"Huang Min, if you're here to lecture me, can't it wait until morning? I'm too tired," said Long Huang, his tone clearly one of weariness and annoyance as he opened the door.
As the door creaked open, he stopped.
It wasn't Huang Min.
But Zhao Gun, standing before him, arms crossed behind his back. His nostrils flared faintly, as if the air itself was a peasant's brew. His chin was high, his gaze sweeping past Long Huang's shoulder, ready to dissect the humble interior, but he found it only a bit strange and simple, nothing as he expected; it was the first time he had seen a house like this.
"So, are you not going to come inside?" Long Huang asked, looking at Zhao Gun, who seemed to be zoning out.
Under Long Huang's gaze and words, Zhao Gun hesitated and stepped inside; the arrogance that usually defined him seemed a bit tempered. He slowly closed the door as if he was forcing himself to enter.
"Take a seat," Long Huang said, gesturing to his sofa. As Zhao Gun sat, Long Huang, whose curiosity was piqued, couldn't help but ask him.
"Well, well. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company at such a late hour?"
"First, I don't like men," said Zhao Gun with a stern tone.
Hearing this, Long Huang's eye twitched, and a rush of thoughts flooded his mind,' Neither do I, you fucking ass. Bring your mother and I will sh...you know what, never mind, no need for all that.'
Hufff!
Long Huang took a deep breath, suppressing the urge to introduce Zhao Gun's face to the nearest wall. Instead, he managed to maintain his composure, his lips twitching into a strained smile.
"Duly noted. A tragic revelation for hopeful disciples everywhere, I'm sure."
"Second, I want answers... now!" Zhao Gun said, his voice cracking slightly. His tone was loud and harsh, as if commanding a servant, but Long Huang sensed something was off.
Long Huang felt that beneath Zhao Gun's words and arrogance lay something deeper than just curiosity that had driven him to come here. Especially after the conditions he had given him. He thought Zhao Gun's pride would have made him back off, but seeing him here was out of the ordinary.
This intrigued Long Huang.
Long Huang then sat in the chair across from Zhao Gun and stared at him, trying to figure out what made him throw away his pride. 'Pride' soon as that word appeared in his thoughts, Long Huang knew what to do to get his answer.
"Ah, the prideful Zhao Gun finally comes seeking help," said Long Huang as he leaned back, steepling his fingers, his tone filled with mocking.
Zhao Gun flinched as if struck.
"Hahaha, I never thought I'd see the day. So, you've come to beg, huh?" said Long Huang, poking holes in Zhao Gun's pride.
Zhao Gun, hearing Long Huang's words, clenched his fist faintly; a visible tremor ran up his arm. He said nothing, his breathing a shallow, controlled rhythm in the quiet room.
"Cut the games. Tell me this instance! How did you do it? No tricks. No lies!"
"How did you defeat a Blood Tempering Realm cultivator?"
"First," Long Huang said, his own voice dropping to a flat, dangerous calm.
"Lose that arrogance. I have this habit of fighting those who talk arrogantly to me."
"Tell me..."
Zhao Gun swallowed, the sound audible.
His lips moved soundlessly for a moment before the word emerged, forced and ragged.
"...Please."
As Zhao Gun spoke, color drained from his face, and his cheeks flushed red as he clenched his teeth.
Long Huang watched him, not saying a word. He let the silence stretch, letting Zhao Gun drown in it.
He observed everything about Zhao Gun, the shame and anticipation burning in his eyes. The way his entire being seemed to scream against the submission.
After a while, with a deep, reluctant sigh, Long Huang spoke.
"Okay, I'll tell you, but it's probably not going to be what you want to hear," said Long Huang. Leaning forward, his previous playful demeanor dissolved like mist.
He gestured toward the window, at the broken training dummies, cracked boulders, and the grooves etched into the earth from countless repetitions on the abandoned training ground.
"While you sleep, I train. While you feast, I train. While you play at being a young master, I train. Alone."
"This!" Long Huang said, his voice stripped bare. "This is what 'Ordinary' looks like after it refuses to stay ordinary."
Zhao Gun's gaze fell upon the undeniable evidence of struggle, hard work etched into the very ground itself.
"... So you're saying that with enough training, anyone with any bloodline grade can meet your level."
"I'm saying labels are worthless chains," Long Huang replied, picking up the Frostbite Serpent Sword once more.
"I stopped limiting myself a long time ago," he stated, his voice steady and resolute.
Zhao Gun frowned, confusion etching deeper lines on his forehead. "What does that even mean?"
Long Huang let out a soft chuckle, though it held no humor. "It means I quit letting the world define my limits."
Long Huang tapped his chest with a faint, hollow smile."So what if my bloodline is 'Ordinary'?"
"Bloodline grades— they're just excuses people use to justify their limits."
"What about those who have none? Should they give up just because they're dealt a bad hand?" asked Long Huang, his voice resonating with conviction.
"Still, to fight across two major realms, it shouldn't be possible," Zhao Gun said, still trying to wrap his head around Long Huang's words.
"You have to have at least a high cultivation technique, right? Sell it to me. I'm willing to pay any amount," said Zhao Gun, his voice sharp and full of arrogance, like a lord telling his servant to do their bidding.
"Say I did have such a method. Do you think such a method would be for sale?" said Long Huang.
He took a step closer, his voice dropping. "Did you forget the principles of martial arts to overcome strength with technique?"
"But still, that doesn't..."
"Bloodline? Cultivation method?" said Long Huang, cutting him off.
"They're just tools. It's the will that wields them. Having an unbreakable martial heart is the true way," he emphasized, tapping his heart with a knowing smile.
"You… earned this?" Zhao Gun asked, his words barely a whisper, disbelief warring with a dawning, horrifying comprehension.
"Impossible!"
"Impossible, who decided that. My martial heart sharpened itself on the grindstone of 'impossible'." Long Huang proclaimed with unwavering conviction, his eyes shining with fierce determination.
Zhao Gun stared at him, his expression shifting from doubt to contemplation as he searched for any hint of deception.
'Does he truly just rely on his own strength and training, or is there something else? If not, then is it possible for my..... No, I'm sure there is more to it than that. If it were just hard work, there would much more fights between non-bloodline holders and bloodline holders.' With that thought, Zhao Gun looked to Long Huang once again, trying his best to pick up any hint of deceit.
Yet Long Huang's gaze remained unwavering, the familiar smirk absent from his features.
For the first time, a flicker of true uncertainty crossed Zhao Gun's mind, a nagging doubt that perhaps his previous assumptions had been misguided.
As Long Huang watched Zhao Gun ponder his words, a slow smile crept across his face, knowing he had planted a seed of doubt that could grow into something much larger.
But what puzzled him was why Zhao Gun seemed so interested. 'Wasn't he already talented and strong enough?'
The night air around them felt charged, heavy with unspoken thoughts and the weight of realization, as Zhao Gun stood at the precipice of understanding a message about strength, potential, and the true meaning of power.
A cheerful voice shattered the heavy silence, rolling in from the night like an unwelcome breeze.
"Junior Brother Long! You in there?"
"Senior brother Fu Heng, what brings you here?" said Long Huang, puzzled as to why Fu Heng would be looking for him.
"You forgot to collect your mission reward," said Fu Heng, laughter bubbling under his words.
"Oh shit!" said Long Huang as he swung open the door, about to rush past Fu Heng, but was stopped.
"Hahaha, junior brother, calm down, you can collect the reward in the morning or within the next three days, no need to panic." Fu Heng said, gesturing with his hand for Long Huang to calm down.
"Junior brother, I also heard you fought the Bandit King, who was a Peak of Blood Tempering Realm cultivator instead of a peak Bone Tempering Realm cultivator."
"How did you even know about that?"
"I have my sources."
"Also, I see you brought dead weight to the fight," said Fu Heng, his tone filled with mockery as his eyes slid past Long Huang, landing on Zhao Gun. His grin widened, turning razor-edged.
"Your mouth is as filthy as usual, beggar," said Zhao Gun, his voice once again filled with arrogance.
Sigh
"Junior brother, is it just me, or is your place haunted by a sore loser?" Fu Heng sighed with theatrical sorrow.
"What did you just call me?"
"You heard me."
"And where's your little shadow?" he questioned with a smirk." Wait, don't tell, probably in some woman's bosom in a brothel as usual."
"YOU BASTARD!!" shouted Zhao Gun. Pure rage obliterated thought. Zhao Gun's fist shot out. Seeing this, Fu Heng just smiled and sent out a punch of his own.
Swish
Woosh—Clap!
In that moment, instead of the sound or feeling of their fists colliding, both Zhao Gun and Fu Heng felt something grab them before being sent flying a few meters away.
Long Huang now stood between them.