Humiliating Anger!

Yu Xiaogang practically fled back to his office.

His hands were shaking as he closed the door, requiring two attempts to get it shut.

The sound of students running drills echoed through the hallway outside, their rhythmic footsteps passing by the window.

He leaned against the door panel, his chest heaving violently, the muscles in his face twitching uncontrollably.

That little brat.

That little brat who didn't know the immensity of heaven and earth.

Yu Xiaogang took a deep breath, walked to his desk, and pulled out his chair with a violent jerk, the chair legs screeching harshly against the floor.

He slammed his notebook onto the desk and gripped the edge with both hands, his shoulders trembling slightly.

"Absurd."

His voice was low, squeezed out from between his teeth.

"He doesn't understand anything..."

"A six-year-old kid, only a few days past his spirit awakening? He doesn't even have a single spirit ring, yet he dares to talk theory with me? I have spent over twenty years researching, and the archives I've pored over could fill a room. How many books has he even read?"

He spoke faster and more agitatedly, his hands gesturing in the air as if arguing with an invisible opponent.

"Who does he think he is? What does he think spirit theory is? Buying groceries at the market? Just picking and choosing whatever he wants to make sense of it?"

"So what if I'm level twenty-nine? Does being level twenty-nine mean I can't research theory? Do those who design missiles have to be able to build them themselves? Do those who write military strategy have to be able to fight wars themselves? Isn't that just bandit logic?"

As Yu Xiaogang reached this point, the fire in his chest flared up again.

He recalled Huang Fei's words: "Aren't you just slapping your own face?"

Slapping his face.

It hit the most painful spot on Yu Xiaogang's face.

His fists clenched until they creaked.

He remained calm for a long time.

The sunlight outside the window shifted from the east to the zenith, shining onto the crumpled document on the desk.

Yu Xiaogang leaned back into his chair, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the tabletop. His gaze rested on a corner of the ceiling, but his mind was racing.

Huang Fei.

That kid had become sharp.

Yu Xiaogang replayed the conversation in his mind over and over, and the more he ruminated, the more wrong it felt.

A six-year-old child, fresh from the countryside, knowing almost nothing about the spirit master system—how could he have pinpointed his weaknesses so accurately?

Level twenty-nine.

Spirit mutation.

The contradictions in the Ten Great Theories.

Every question was like a knife, stabbing precisely into his most painful spots.

This was no coincidence.

Yu Xiaogang narrowed his eyes.

Either someone had coached this child, or the child was naturally the type.

The type who loved to rub salt into other people's wounds.

Regardless of which it was, Yu Xiaogang found it troublesome.

Smart people were the hardest to deal with because they wouldn't easily trust others.

They always asked why, always verified, and always looked at you after you finished speaking with an expression that said, "Do you think I'm an idiot?"

Huang Fei had that exact look.

That smile—the one where he leaned against the tree, hands tucked into his sleeves, head tilted as he watched him—that smile.

Every time Yu Xiaogang thought of that smile, he felt as if someone were slapping him across the face.

He couldn't approach Huang Fei anymore.

Yu Xiaogang quickly reached this conclusion.

That kid already had a prejudice against him, and his mind was fast and his tongue sharp; continuing to talk to him would only make himself more embarrassed.

But Tang San was different.

Yu Xiaogang recalled Tang San's behavior.

At first, upon hearing "Number One on the Continent," Tang San had shown a look of surprise.

It was genuine, not faked.

Later, when Huang Fei exposed his cultivation level, Tang San showed disappointment, but it wasn't the dismissive kind; it was a sense of regret, as if thinking, "I thought you were an expert, but it turns out you aren't."

This indicated that Tang San had a foundation of trust in him, only shaken by Huang Fei's words.

If Huang Fei had not been present, if he could have spoken with Tang San alone, using his theories to slowly, bit by bit, persuade him.

Yu Xiaogang believed that Tang San would certainly be moved by his words.

That child's eyes held a thirst for knowledge, curiosity, and a longing for power.

These were all qualities that a good "experimental subject" must possess.

And Huang Fei?

There was only one thing in that brat's eyes.

"Let's see how long you can keep jumping around."

Yu Xiaogang shook his head, rummaged through his drawer for a blank sheet of paper, and picked up a pen to write a few lines.

Tang San.

Huang Fei.

He drew a line under Tang San's name and wrote a small note beside it: Breakthrough point.

Then, he drew a large cross under Huang Fei's name.

Afterward, he folded the paper and tucked it into the deepest part of his drawer.

He needed to find a time when Huang Fei was not around.

This would not be difficult.

Dormitory Seven housed over a dozen work-study students; it was impossible for Huang Fei and Tang San to be glued together every single moment.

As long as he waited patiently, he would eventually find an opportunity.

Even if he only had the time of one incense stick to speak with Tang San alone, he was confident he could make that child interested in his theories.

Once he successfully verified his Twin Martial Souls theory, and once Tang San grew rapidly under the guidance of Yu Xiaogang, those who mocked him...

Especially that little brat surnamed Huang.

A cold sneer curled the corners of Yu Xiaogang's mouth.

By then, he would let everyone know who the real clown was.

Dormitory Seven.

At lunchtime, the large shared bed was bustling with activity.

The work-study students sat on their beds in twos and threes, holding bowls as they ate.

Today's meal was slightly better than yesterday's, consisting of a bowl of stewed cabbage with tofu and two coarse-grain steamed buns.

Huang Fei squatted on his bed, holding the bowl of vegetables in one hand and breaking the bun with the other, eating with great relish.

He had spent the better part of the morning playing a battle of wits with Yu Xiaogang and was already famished.

Tang San sat beside him, eating much more gracefully, taking small, slow bites of his bun and vegetables.

Xiao Wu sat cross-legged on the opposite bed, her ponytail swinging behind her as she chatted with Wang Sheng while eating.

Wang Sheng was a large fellow with a large appetite; he finished his portion in a flash, two bites per bun.

He wiped his mouth and leaned in toward Huang Fei.

"Right, Brother Fei, you went out with that Master this morning? What was that about?"

With his mouth full of bun, Huang Fei mumbled, "Oh, that Yu Xiaogang, the one who calls himself a theory master. He called us out first thing in the morning, saying he wanted to take us as his disciples."

The surrounding work-study students pricked up their ears.

"Master?" Wang Sheng froze for a moment, then burst into laughter, nearly spraying the bun crumbs from his mouth. "Him? A master?"

He laughed until he was out of breath, his bowl shaking in his hands.

"Hahaha... don't let him fool you! That's the academy's famous Fart Master! He's been here for years, studying his so-called martial soul theories all day long. He's only a level 29 Soul Grand Master himself, unable to even break through to level 30, yet he acts like some kind of reclusive expert all day!"

"Fart Master?" Tang San frowned.