After entering the new century, biology had increasingly come to believe that human consciousness was merely a special physiological activity. The state of the body—especially the brain, the primary organ of thought—could easily influence one's temperament. Between his two lives, Wang Qi was already forty or fifty years old, yet he still could not help having a somewhat unrestrained way of thinking.
If even Wang Qi was like this, there was no need to mention everyone else. Wasn't chuunibyou just unrestrained thinking that had leapt straight into a pit? Wang Qi himself understood chuunibyou quite well.
But understanding was one thing; forgiving was another.
At the very least, Wang Qi had always dealt harshly with bratty children who tried to mess with him.
You say my swordsmanship is bad? Naive! Do you know Bo Xiaoya? Her swordsmanship is so far above yours that I can chat and laugh with her about it!
Wang Qi smiled faintly, keeping his face impassive as he said to Mo Zhenzhen and Fu Xiao, "Thank you for leading the way, junior sisters. I need to find Uncle Liu first."
Having said that, Wang Qi straightened his back and headed directly toward the main house. Fu Xiao was clumsy with words but straightforward by nature. Seeing Wang Qi's strange posture and awkward gait, she asked curiously, "Wang Shixiong, you're..."
Mo Zhenzhen tugged Fu Xiao back. Her experience was slightly broader, and she had seen through Wang Qi's ability.
Lin Feng, meanwhile, was even more sensitive to Wang Qi's footsteps. His eyes widened, and his originally unbearably smug expression turned into inexplicable horror. Within Wang Qi's steps, his bearing, even the rhythm of his swinging arms, Lin Feng had glimpsed swordsmanship!
In his eyes, Wang Qi was no longer a person, but a flawlessly interlocking sword formation.