Zhao Ritian lay prone on a distant hilltop, watching Long Aotian's car drive inside.
"You despicable, shameless Long Aotian!"
Zhao Ritian looked incomparably pleased with himself.
"Look at that smug Shit-Spraying Dragon! He runs around acting wild with two useless idiots in tow, always mocking me for having no brains. Why doesn't he take a look at his own damn face? Every time something happens, those two screw me over and make it seem like my IQ keeps dropping. I refuse to believe it—they always make me suffer losses, so why can't I make them fall for it too?!"
At that moment, Martial Uncle Ming Disha lay beside him and put an arm around Zhao Ritian's shoulders. "He went in?"
"He went in."
Zhao Ritian looked deeply unconvinced. "I already told that Ma Bucun all about my weaknesses and his weaknesses. If he still can't beat the shit out of them, then Ma Bucun is nothing but a useless dog bastard."
Martial Uncle asked, "Then what are you going to do?"
"I'll go in and beat them up!"
"Idiot!" Martial Uncle said. "What's the fun in fighting head-on? You need to use your brain!"
"I did use my brain. The conclusion I reached was that I should fight my way in... Fuck, Martial Uncle!? It's you!?"
Martial Uncle smacked Zhao Ritian across the face. "Watch your mouth."
Zhao Ritian covered his face and turned around. Every one of the Seven Star Loose Immortals had a slap mark on his face, kneeling in a row on the ground.
Covering his face, Zhao Ritian said, "Why did you hit me? Lu Chengwen greets you like that every time. Why don't you hit him?"
Martial Uncle slapped Zhao Ritian again. "Got a problem with that?"
Zhao Ritian looked utterly aggrieved, swallowing down his