Unlucky Xiao Yan

On the training ground in the afternoon, the sun scorched the Kitsuchi-paved ground, steam rising until the very air seemed to warp.

Xiao Yan sat cross-legged in the center of the training ground, shirtless. Sweat rolled down his forehead and dripped onto the searing ground, evaporating instantly. His eyes were tightly shut, his brows furrowed, and the Dou Qi within his body was circulating frantically.

Yet no matter how hard he tried, the ceiling of his Dou Qi remained stubbornly locked at a level that filled him with despair—the Dou Practitioner rank.

Dou Practitioner.

In his original world, this was a realm he had reached at the age of twelve. And now, after enduring so many hardships, so many brushes with death, and so many counterattacks, he had actually returned to the starting point.

Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west of the river.

He had shouted this phrase countless times, using it to bolster his spirit in desperate situations. But in this damned Douluo Continent, his "west of the river" seemed forever out of reach.

Calm down, calm down. Xiao Yan took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the agitation in his heart. The suppression of my Dou Qi is only temporary. Once I find a way, I will definitely break through. I can cultivate Soul Power as well; by attacking from both sides, perhaps I can even turn this misfortune into a blessing...

He opened his eyes, the Exotic Flame markings on his right arm glowing faintly—the imprint left behind by the Green Lotus Core Flame within his body. The Exotic Flame was still there, his Dou Qi was still there; they were simply suppressed.

As long as the flame did not extinguish, he, Xiao Yan, was no trash!

"Ha!"

Xiao Yan stood up and threw a punch. The wind from his fist carried a wave of heat, leaving a distorted trail in the air. He followed with a second punch, then a third, each one fiercer, more intense, and faster than the last.

His body moved across the training ground with agile footwork and sharp, fierce strikes, every move imbued with the power of the Exotic Flame. Although his Soul Power was only level 27, his combat experience, movement techniques, and awareness were all at the level of a Titled Douluo.

"Flame Splitting Wave Ruler!"

Xiao Yan gripped his right hand in the air, and a phantom of the Heavy Profound Ruler, condensed from Dou Qi, appeared in his grasp. He swung it down violently—a heatwave surged out like a tidal wave, sweeping across the entire training ground. A layer of Kitsuchi was torn from the ground, and dust filled the sky.

In his original world, this strike would have been enough to split a small mountain.

But here, with his Dou Qi suppressed, the power of this strike was not even as strong as a common soul skill of a Soul Ancestor.

Xiao Yan retracted the ruler and panted, a trace of unwillingness flashing in his eyes.

Still not enough, far from enough...

Just then, a deep, resonant voice came from the edge of the training ground.

"So you're the brat who calls himself 'Flame Emperor'?"

Xiao Yan turned his head.

Zhao Wuji stood with his arms crossed, leaning against a tree trunk at the edge of the training ground. His copper-bell-like eyes sized Xiao Yan up, a faint, ambiguous smile hanging on his lips.

He was a teacher at Shrek Academy, a level 82 Soul Douluo with the Vajra Bear martial soul, nicknamed the "Immovable Bright King." In the academy, aside from Dean Flender, he was the one not to be trifled with.

But Xiao Yan was not afraid.

"It is I." Xiao Yan stood straight and met Zhao Wuji's gaze.

Zhao Wuji walked over and circled Xiao Yan, his eyes lingering for a moment on the Exotic Flame markings on his right arm before he shook his head. "Only level 27 Soul Power. Too weak."

Level 27.

Too weak.

These words were like a blade, stabbing fiercely into Xiao Yan's chest.

His pupils contracted sharply, his fists clenched until they cracked, his knuckles turning white. His nails dug into his palms, drawing blood, but he felt nothing.

"Teacher Zhao."

Xiao Yan's voice was calm—terrifyingly calm.

"Hm?" Zhao Wuji raised an eyebrow.

"I want to challenge you."

The entire field erupted in an uproar.

Other students were training at the edge of the ground—Dai Mubai was lifting stone locks, Zhu Zhuqing was practicing speed, Ma Hongjun was working on flame control, and Oscar and Ning Rongrong were resting in the shade of a nearby tree.

The moment Xiao Yan's words left his lips, everyone stopped what they were doing.

Dai Mubai's stone lock nearly crushed his own foot.

Zhu Zhuqing's figure froze in mid-air.

Ma Hongjun's flames scorched his own eyebrows.

The sausage in Oscar's mouth fell out.

Ning Rongrong covered her mouth.

"Is he crazy?" Dai Mubai couldn't believe his ears.

"Challenging a level 82 at level 27?" Ma Hongjun muttered. "Isn't that just asking for a beating?"

Zhu Zhuqing didn't comment, but her eyes clearly read, This person has something wrong with his brain.

Zhao Wuji was stunned for a moment, then threw his head back and laughed.

"Hahahahahaha!"

The laughter was like thunder, causing the ground of the training field to tremble slightly. There was no malice in his laughter, only pure amusement—a level 27 Soul Master challenging a level 82 Soul Douluo; this wasn't courage, it was suicide.

"You, a level 27, are challenging me, a level 82?" Zhao Wuji finished laughing and wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes. "Brat, did you cultivate your brain into a broken state?"

Xiao Yan did not smile.

His expression was as serious as a stone, his gaze as firm as a blade. He was neither provoked by the laughter of Zhao Wuji nor did he shrink back from the gazes of the crowd.

He stood there, spine straight, chin slightly raised, like a pine tree standing tall amidst a raging storm.

"Teacher Zhao, I am serious."

Xiao Yan's voice was not loud, but every word landed with weight.

The laughter of Zhao Wuji gradually ceased.

He looked into the eyes of Xiao Yan—in those eyes, there was no impulsiveness, no anger, only something he had seen many times before.

Stubbornness.

Zhao Wuji restrained his smile and nodded: "Fine, I will grant your wish. But let the ugly words be said first: I will not show mercy."

"That is not needed."

Xiao Yan assumed his starting stance, right arm extended forward, left hand guarding his chest, feet staggered, center of gravity lowered. The Dou Qi within his body surged madly, the Exotic Flame rushed through his meridians, and the patterns on his right arm lit up with a cyan glow.

"Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west of the river—"

Xiao Yan took a deep breath, two flames igniting in his eyes.

"Do not bully a young man because he is poor!"

Before the words had even faded, Xiao Yan moved.

His speed was astonishing; exerting force through his feet, two craters exploded in the Kitsuchi, and he shot toward Zhao Wuji like an arrow released from a bow. His right hand gripped the air, the phantom of the Heavy Profound Ruler condensed once more, its surface coated in a layer of cyan Exotic Flame.

"Flame Splitting Wave Ruler!"

He poured his full strength into this strike.

Heat waves rolled out, the air was ignited, and a cyan line of fire tore through the sky, heading straight for the face of Zhao Wuji.

Standing at the edge of the training ground, Dai Mubai instinctively took a step back—even from dozens of meters away, he could feel the terror of that heat wave.

Zhao Wuji stood where he was, not moving an inch.

He watched the incoming line of fire, his expression as calm as if he were watching a moth fly into a flame.

Then, he raised his right hand.

He swatted it away with an understated motion.

"Slap."

A crisp sound rang out.

Xiao Yan, along with his ruler, was swatted away like a fly, tumbling seven or eight times in the air before crashing heavily onto the ground ten meters away, kicking up a cloud of dust.

"Cough, cough, cough..." Xiao Yan climbed up while coughing, his face covered in dirt, a trace of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth.

Zhao Wuji stood in place, not having moved a single step: "Do you still wish to continue?"

Xiao Yan wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and smiled.

"Of course."

He charged forward once again.

This time, he was faster, fiercer, and more ruthless. The Exotic Flame erupted with full force, cyan flames wrapping around his right arm, the air around him twisting and deforming.

"Eight Extremities Collapse!"

Palms and fists alternated, eight layers of force stacking upon one another, the final punch launching with the power of the Exotic Flame, smashing toward the chest of Zhao Wuji.

Zhao Wuji raised his hand again.

A swat.

Xiao Yan was sent flying once more.

This time he flew even further, fifteen meters, rolling four or five times upon landing; his clothes were torn in several places, and the Exotic Flame patterns on his right arm had dimmed significantly.

"Cough... ptoo—" Xiao Yan spat out a mouthful of blood, propped up his body, and stood up shakily.

Zhao Wuji frowned: "Kid, you are just self-mutilating."

Xiao Yan did not answer.

He took a deep breath and charged up again.

The third swat.

The fourth swat.

The fifth swat.

The sixth swat.

The seventh swat.

Every time, Xiao Yan was swatted away by Zhao Wuji with ease; every time, he climbed up bruised and battered, covered in wounds; every time he stood up, he would shout—

"Thirty years east of the river!"

"Thirty years east of the river!"

"Do not bully the young for being poor!"

His voice grew hoarser and weaker with each repetition, yet every time, he shouted with such desperate, gut-wrenching intensity that these ten words seemed to be his final defiance, his only pillar of support.

On the sidelines of the training ground, everyone fell silent.

Dai Mubai no longer found it amusing.

The look in Zhu Zhuqing's eyes changed.

Ma Hongjun's mouth hung open, but he could not make a sound.

Oscar's hand froze in mid-air, not even noticing the sausage falling to the ground.

Ning Rongrong's eyes turned red.

"That's the seventh time..." Dai Mubai muttered, "He's been swatted away seven times already..."

"Why does he keep getting back up?" Ma Hongjun couldn't understand. "If it were me, I would have stayed down long ago."

"Because he is Xiao Yan." Zhu Zhuqing spoke up suddenly.

Everyone looked at her.

Zhu Zhuqing offered no explanation, simply watching the figure on the training ground climb to his feet once more.

The eighth time.

Xiao Yan crawled up from the ground, blood and dirt caked onto his face, obscuring his features. His left eye was swollen shut, and his right eye was narrowed to a mere slit. His lips were split, his teeth were loose, and at least three of his ribs were broken.

But the fire in those eyes had not been extinguished.

Instead, it burned even brighter.

His right arm lit up with a cyan glow once more, and the Exotic Flame reignited. This time, the flames were more ferocious than ever before; the cyan light reflected off his face, making him look like an Asura crawling out of hell.

Zhao Wuji's expression finally changed.

It wasn't because of Xiao Yan's strength—truth be told, Xiao Yan's attacks didn't even count as a tickle to him. The reason for his change in expression was the unyielding spirit within this kid.

"This kid..." Zhao Wuji muttered, "Is he part cockroach?"

"Haa—!"

Xiao Yan let out a roar and charged at Zhao Wuji again. This time, he used no techniques; he simply rushed forward with pure, frantic, suicidal abandon, his right fist wreathed in Exotic Flame as he smashed it toward Zhao Wuji.

Zhao Wuji sighed.

He used thirty percent of his power for this palm strike.

"Bang!"

A dull thud echoed.

Xiao Yan was hit as if by a mountain, sent flying backward at a speed the naked eye could barely track. He crashed through the first wall beside the training ground—bricks and stones splattered, dust filled the air—and continued flying, smashing through the second wall, then the third.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

Three loud crashes, and three walls collapsed.

Xiao Yan was buried in the rubble, silent.

The sidelines of the training ground were deathly quiet.

Zhao Wuji withdrew his palm, his expression complex: "Did I go too hard?"

Dai Mubai swallowed hard: "Teacher Zhao, what do you think?"

Just then, a sound came from the ruins.

Bricks shifted, and dust rose.

One hand reached out from the rubble, followed by the second, then his head, then his shoulders.

Xiao Yan crawled out of the ruins.

He was covered in blood, his clothes shredded into rags, and his right arm hung at an unnatural angle—it was dislocated. His left leg limped, clearly injured as well. His face was a mask of blood, making his expression impossible to read.

But he was still standing.

He used his functional left hand to brace himself against the edge of the rubble, standing up shakily. His body swayed, nearly collapsing again, but he gritted his teeth and steadied himself.

Then, he raised his head, looking at Zhao Wuji with his one barely-open eye.

The corners of his mouth curled upward.

He raised the thumb of his left hand.

"Thi... thirty years..."

His voice was intermittent, thin as a thread, yet every word was crystal clear.

"West of the river..."

Dai Mubai finally couldn't help but whisper to Zhu Zhuqing beside him: "Does this guy have a masochistic streak?"

Zhu Zhuqing did not answer, but the look in her eyes as she watched Xiao Yan held a hint of respect.

"Thirty years east of the river..."

Xiao Yan's voice grew weaker and weaker.

"Do not bully..."

His body began to sway.

"The young..."

His vision began to blur.

"The poor..."

As the final word escaped his lips, Xiao Yan's body finally gave out, and he fell backward.

"Thud."

He hit the ground hard, kicking up dust as his eyes slowly closed.

A faint smile still hung on the corners of his lips.

"I will... return..."

Before losing consciousness, he left behind these words.

Zhao Wuji walked over, crouched down, checked Xiao Yan's breath, and examined his injuries, letting out a sigh of relief: "He won't die, but he'll be bedridden for at least three days."

"Oscar!" Zhao Wuji shouted, "Come over and heal him!"

"Coming, coming!" Oscar ran over, muttering, "I have a big sausage! I have a small sausage!"

Golden light flared, and the wounds on Xiao Yan's body began to heal slowly.

Zhao Wuji stood up, looked at the unconscious Xiao Yan, remained silent for a moment, then shook his head and smiled.

"This kid... is quite interesting."

Dai Mubai, Zhu Zhuqing, Ma Hongjun, and Ning Rongrong gathered around, looking at the unconscious Xiao Yan.

Dai Mubai: "He really dared to fight."

Ma Hongjun: "If it were me, I definitely wouldn't dare."

Zhu Zhuqing: "It's not that he dared to fight; he had no choice but to fight."

Ning Rongrong whispered: "That line he said, 'Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west of the river,' what does it actually mean?"

No one could answer.

But they vaguely sensed that hidden within those incomprehensible words was all the pride and resentment of a young man.

In the distance, Han Li stood in the shadows of the teaching building, holding a ledger, his pen hovering above the paper, unable to descend for a long time.

He watched the young man being carried away from the training field, silent for a long while.

Then, he turned to a new page and wrote a few words:

"Subject 305, Xiao Yan. Note: This person is extremely difficult to deal with, knows when to yield and when to stand tall, is indomitable, and must not be made an enemy. If the opportunity arises, he can be made an ally."

After writing, he closed the ledger, turned, and vanished into the shadows.

In a tree by the side of the training field, Wang Lin, dressed in white, looked down at everything from above, a playful smile curling his lips.

"Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west of the river..." he murmured, repeating the phrase, "Interesting, truly interesting."

Then his gaze fell in the direction where Han Li had disappeared, and his smile deepened.

"Each harboring their own secrets, each with their own agenda. This world is becoming more and more amusing."

He leaped lightly, drifting down from the tree, his white robes like snow, his long hair like ink, unstained by a single speck of dust.

As he passed by Tang San, Tang San was explaining to Xiao Wu what had just happened: "That Xiao Yan is so impressive, he was knocked flying eight times and still managed to stand back up..."

Wang Lin paused, tilted his head to look at Tang San, and left behind a single sentence before drifting away.

"Floor tiles."

Tang San: "..."

Xiao Wu patted Tang San on the shoulder: "Third Brother, don't mind him, he's also a lunatic."

Tang San was left speechless.

The training field returned to calm, but everyone knew that Xiao Yan's "self-abusive challenge" today would become a legend at Shrek Academy.

And the young man being carried away was still muttering in his coma:

"Thirty years east of the river... thirty years west of the river..."

"Do not bully... the young poor..."

With his lips curled upward, he was dreaming.

In his dream, he had returned to Wutan City, once again becoming that useless young master, mocked, ridiculed, and looked down upon by countless people.

But at the end of the dream, he saw someone—that person stood before the gates of the Xiao family, facing the sky-filling mockery, and shouted that phrase for the first time.

Thirty-year-old Xiao Yan said to fifteen-year-old Xiao Yan:

"Don't be afraid, you will become strong."

"Strong enough to make everyone shut up."

"Strong enough to turn the tides of fate."

Young Xiao Yan smiled.

He wept in his dream.

As Xiao Yan lay unconscious, tears slid down his cheeks, dripping onto the Kitsuchi, vanishing in an instant.