"How about it? Are you done fighting?"
Xia Ping stood with his hands behind his back, looking down at the upperclassmen sprawled across the ground. "You thought that after spending a few years at school and building up your true qi, you were invincible and could bully any new student you wanted?"
"I can tell you this: you're not good enough!"
What?!
The upperclassmen were so furious they felt their lungs might burst. Their faces flushed red. They had spent two or three years training at Yanhuang University, working hard until they finally reached the peak of the Martial Artist Realm.
Apart from the Elite Students, they were the strongest. Yet this kid dared to say something like that—to claim they weren't good enough. It was a terrible insult.
But they had no answer. They had relied on their superior cultivation to gang up on a group of newly enrolled students, only to be defeated by a single palm strike.
There was no excuse for such a failure. The gap in strength was simply too great.
"Still not convinced?"
Xia Ping shot them a sidelong glance. "Are you really offended because I said you weren't good enough? Let me be honest: after spending years training at school, you've all been wasting your cultivation. You haven't learned a thing."
"And you still wanted to teach me some rules? You're practically begging to become a laughingstock. You're a bunch of weaklings who got crippled with a single palm strike, yet you dared to swagger around in front of me. Tell me, aren't you a bunch of useless trash?"
He looked down at the upperclassmen.
Their faces turned red, then purple, like pig livers. They had never suffered such humiliation in their lives, especially not at the hands of a mere new student.