At last, he returned to the little courtyard.
After entering, Wang Xian plopped down beneath the eaves, leaning against a pillar, his heart full of melancholy.
He thought, In the days ahead, will the old man go mad again and accidentally break my bones with one punch? Then leave me bedridden for another ten days or half a month?
If this was how he had to temper his body, should he really keep at it?
This was nothing like what he had expected from the Demon Realm.
He had always thought that after leaving the secret realm, he would be slaughtering his way through all opposition. Divine sword in hand, auspicious clouds beneath his feet, majestic and unstoppable.
But now?
He had been beaten by a decrepit old man until he was like a dead dog, without even the strength to fight back.
Thinking of this made his face fall. He slapped the stone slab beneath him with both hands.
Slap! Slap! Slap!
The stone slab rang beneath his palms, which had turned red from the blows. He shouted, "This is so damn annoying!"
The old man sat nearby, building a fire.
He moved slowly, gathering a few dry branches and lighting them with a firestarter before setting a small clay pot over the flames. The pot contained spring water, and before long, the fragrance of tea drifted through the air.
After thinking for a moment, the old man smiled. "They say scholars are poor while martial artists are rich. This old man doesn't have any spiritual medicine to spare for you... and I'm not your master either. If you really get hurt, you'll have to find a solution yourself!"
Wang Xian raised his head and looked at him.
The old man glared. "Don't look at me like that. Unless