Little Fatty
"Holy crap!"
What was going on now?
How had things gone from eating to beating someone up?
Dried yak beef from the highlands was nearly as hard as a piece of hardwood.
British Navy salt beef could be used to stab someone to death, and the yak jerky sold by herders in the snowy highlands was no less formidable. It definitely qualified as a weapon.
Li Bai and Xiao Wei exchanged glances and sighed in unison.
They had no idea what had happened in the few short moments since they'd last looked. Their little Senior Sister had gotten into it with someone again—this time with a boy only a few years younger than her. He was so fat his hands and feet were thick, and he was round as a ball.
Despite being taller and heavier, he was getting slapped helplessly by Zheng Yu'er, who was a head shorter. All he could do was cry.
The way she wielded the beef jerky vaguely resembled the Thirteen Forms of Wudang Swordsmanship.
The thirteen forms were Draw, Lift, Carry, Parry, Strike, Thrust, Tap, Burst, Stir, Press, Chop, Intercept, and Wash. Little Yu'er didn't bother with any of them. She just stuck to one.
Slap!
She'd get her fill of slapping first and worry about the rest later, aiming every blow at the fat boy's face.
The poor little fatty got a red welt with every slap. Seven or eight crisscrossing marks covered his face, and tears burst from his eyes on the spot.
"Don't fight! Don't fight! Let's talk this out!"
Xiao Wei, who was used to cleaning up after her little Senior Sister, rushed over and forcibly separated the two kids.
No one else could handle this sort of thing.
Even "Hundred Step Divine Fist" Old Grandmaster He couldn't