Ever since the incident of Xue Pan, Old Gouzi, and me taking down that monster, I had no idea how the fuck the news got out.
Fuck, not a single person came over to help when we were fighting it, but half a month later, tales of the three of us had started spreading through the Mystic Gate.
They'd even given the three of us nicknames.
Damn it! I had no idea which idiot did this, but if Laozi found out who it was, I'd draw a hundred five-meter-wide circles and curse the hell out of him.
Fuck them, they called Xue Pan Swimmer in the Chrysanthemum. They called Old Gouzi Exorcist Dog Feces Great Master.
Now, if they'd only given those two bizarre nicknames, I wouldn't have said anything. But damn it, couldn't you at least give me something like Sticking Chrysanthemum Chan Heart Saint?
Fuck! The nickname they gave me was "That Thing That Burst from the Chrysanthemum!" Holy fuck!
That thing? What thing? Did Laozi not have a name or something? Fourth Brother Xue Pan was at least a swimming champion, and Third Brother Old Gouzi was a great master. Fuck your grandma's sixth uncle—me, the eldest brother with the strongest combat power, and they fucking called me That Thing!
Even if it had only spread around the Mystic Gate, I wouldn't have said anything. But now even ordinary folks out in the world knew about it.
Aaaah! Fucking hell! This was pissing Eldest Brother off to death!
Now whenever I went out to handle something, someone would call me That Thing.
Like today, when I went out to buy a pack of cigarettes.
There were a few little brats by the roadside with snot bubbles hanging from their noses. The moment they saw me, they shouted: