"You—you're not Feng Wenzheng. Who are you really?!"
Wu Tie drew a deep breath. Blood continued to spray from his shoulder, making his face grow ever paler.
"I've looked into you. You bear the name of a great Confucian—Feng Wenzheng. You couldn't possibly possess this kind of strength!"
Wu Tie enunciated each word, studying him from head to toe.
"You even know that?"
Feng Xiu was surprised. He truly was a little startled.
Wenzheng, Wenyuan—these courtesy names borne by the younger generation of the Feng and Lin families had all come from Master Jingzhai's hand.
An illiterate brute might not think much of it, but anyone who had read even a little—
would know what the two characters Wenzheng represented: vast righteous qi, setting the common people right.
"Then that makes even less sense. Oh, right—you wouldn't happen to think I'm some feeble scholar incapable of trussing a chicken, would you?"
Feng Xiu came back to himself. Thinking it over carefully, that really did seem to be the case.
The name Wenzheng alone made it clear he was a promising seedling in Confucian learning and letters.
The expectations contained within it were so immense that one might even wonder whether its bearer could suppress the fate ordained by that name.
"Forget it. That isn't important."
"What matters is that you lost."
Feng Xiu did not bother with such a trivial matter. He stepped forward, and Wu Tie instinctively took a step back. But when he sensed that threatening aura gradually fading—
he halted.
"Don't worry, I won't kill you. I just want to have a proper talk with you." Feng Xiu smiled faintly.
As he spoke, his right hand shot out again. His five fingers curled, reaching through Wu Tie's clothes toward the dantian beneath his chest.
Feng Xiu moved