Xiao Yan's Bad Luck

Under the afternoon sun, the training ground's packed-earth surface baked in the heat. Hot air shimmered, warping even the air itself.

Bare-chested, Xiao Yan sat cross-legged in the very center of the training ground. Sweat slid down his forehead and cheeks, dripping onto the scorching ground, where it evaporated instantly. His eyes were tightly shut, his brow furrowed as Dou Qi surged wildly through his body.

But no matter how hard he tried, his Dou Qi was still capped at that despairing level—Dou Zhe.

Dou Zhe.

In his old world, he had reached that realm at the age of twelve. Now, after enduring so many hardships, so many brushes with death, so many comebacks, he had somehow returned to square one.

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

He had shouted that line countless times, each time using it to bolster himself in a desperate situation. But in this damn Douluo Continent, it seemed the day his river would flow west would never come.

"Calm down, calm down." Xiao Yan drew a deep breath, forcing down his frustration. "The suppression of my Dou Qi is only temporary. Once I find a way around it, I'll definitely break through. I can cultivate Soul Power too. If I work both paths, maybe I can even turn this misfortune into a blessing..."

He opened his eyes. The markings of a Heavenly Flame on his right arm glimmered faintly—the traces the Green Lotus Core Flame had left inside him. The Heavenly Flame was still there, and so was his Dou Qi. They were just being suppressed.

As long as the flame still burned, he, Xiao Yan, was no good-for-nothing!

"Ha!"

Xiao Yan sprang to his feet and threw a punch. The blow whipped up a wave of heat, leaving a wavering trail in the air. Then came a second punch, a third—each more forceful, more fierce, and faster than the last.

He moved across the training ground with nimble steps and fierce punches, every strike infused with the power of a Heavenly Flame. Though his Soul Power was only at level 27, his combat experience, footwork, and instincts were all at the level of a Titled Douluo.

"Flame Splitting Wave Ruler!"

Xiao Yan held out his right hand as if gripping an invisible weapon. A phantom Heavy Profound Ruler, condensed from Dou Qi, appeared in his grasp. He swung it hard, sending a surge of heat rolling out like a tidal wave. It swept across the training ground, kicking up the packed earth and filling the air with dust.

In his old world, that blow would have been enough to split a small mountain in two.

But here, with his Dou Qi suppressed, it was weaker than an ordinary Soul Skill from a Soul Ancestor.

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

"Still not enough. Not nearly enough..."

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

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

Xiao Yan turned.

Zhao Wuji stood at the edge of the training ground, arms crossed as he leaned against a tree trunk. His bell-like eyes sized Xiao Yan up, and an almost imperceptible smile tugged at his lips.

He was a teacher at Shrek Academy, an eighty-second-level Soul Douluo with the Vajra Bear Martial Soul. People had given him the nickname "Immovable Wisdom King." At the academy, the only person harder to deal with was the dean, Flender.

But Xiao Yan wasn't afraid.

"That's me." Xiao Yan straightened and met Zhao Wuji's gaze.

Zhao Wuji walked over and circled him once. His eyes lingered on the Heavenly Flame markings on Xiao Yan's right arm before he shook his head. "Only level 27 Soul Power. Too weak."

Level 27.

Too weak.

The words stabbed Xiao Yan in the chest like a knife.

His pupils shrank abruptly. His fists clenched so hard his knuckles cracked and turned white. His nails dug into his palms, drawing beads of blood, but he didn't notice.

"Teacher Zhao."

Xiao Yan's voice was calm—frighteningly calm.

"Hmm?" Zhao Wuji raised an eyebrow.

"I want to challenge you."

The entire training ground erupted.

Other students were training nearby. Dai Mubai was lifting a stone lock, Zhu Zhuqing was practicing her speed, Ma Hongjun was working on controlling his flames, and Oscar and Ning Rongrong were resting beneath a nearby tree.

At Xiao Yan's words, everyone stopped what they were doing.

Dai Mubai nearly dropped the stone lock on his own foot.

Zhu Zhuqing froze mid-stride.

Ma Hongjun's flames singed his eyebrows.

The sausage fell out of Oscar's mouth.

Ning Rongrong covered her lips with one hand.

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

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

Zhu Zhuqing said nothing, but her eyes plainly said, This guy's got something wrong with his head.

Zhao Wuji froze for a moment, then threw his head back and roared with laughter.

"Hahahahahaha!"

His laughter boomed like thunder, trembling through the ground beneath the training field. There was no malice in it. He simply found it hilarious—a level 27 Soul Master challenging an eighty-second-level Soul Douluo. That wasn't courage; it was suicide.

"A level 27 kid wants to challenge me, an level 82 Soul Douluo?" Once he'd laughed enough, Zhao Wuji wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. "Kid, did cultivating break your brain?"

Xiao Yan didn't laugh.

His expression was hard as stone, his gaze sharp as a blade. Zhao Wuji's laughter hadn't angered him, and the crowd's stares hadn't made him back down.

He stood there with his back straight and chin slightly raised, like a pine tree standing firm in a raging storm.

"Teacher Zhao, I'm serious."

Xiao Yan's voice wasn't loud, but every word landed like a stone.

Zhao Wuji's laughter gradually faded.

He looked into Xiao Yan's eyes. There was no impulsiveness or anger in them, only something he had seen many times before.

Stubbornness.

Zhao Wuji's smile faded. He nodded. "All right. I'll give you your chance. But let me make one thing clear: I won't go easy on you."

"I don't need you to."

Xiao Yan took his opening stance, extending his right arm while guarding his chest with his left hand. One foot was forward, the other back, and he lowered his center of gravity. Dou Qi surged wildly through his body, the Heavenly Flame rushing through his meridians as the markings on his right arm glowed blue.

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

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

"Never look down on a young man just because he's poor!"

Before the words had even left his mouth, Xiao Yan moved.

He was astonishingly fast. He drove off the ground, blasting two craters into the packed earth, and shot toward Zhao Wuji like an arrow loosed from its bow. His right hand curled as the phantom Heavy Profound Ruler formed once more, its blade cloaked in blue flames.

"Flame Splitting Wave Ruler!"

He poured every ounce of strength into the blow.

Heat rolled in waves. The air caught fire, and a streak of blue flame split the sky, hurtling straight for Zhao Wuji's face.

Dai Mubai, at the edge of the training ground, instinctively took a step back. Even from dozens of meters away, he could feel the terrifying heat.

Zhao Wuji stood motionless.

He watched the streak of flame bearing down on him, his expression as calm as if he were watching a moth fly into a flame.

Then he raised his right hand.

With a casual, effortless slap—

"Pa."

The crisp sound rang out.

Xiao Yan and his ruler were slapped into the air. He spun seven or eight times before crashing heavily to the ground ten meters away, kicking up a cloud of dust.

"Cough, cough..." Xiao Yan coughed as he struggled to his feet. His face was coated in dust, and a trace of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

Zhao Wuji hadn't even shifted his feet. "Do you still want to keep going?"

Xiao Yan wiped the blood from his mouth and smiled.

"Of course."

He charged forward again.

This time, he was faster, fiercer, and more vicious. The Heavenly Flame erupted at full force, blue fire wrapping around his right arm as the air warped around him.

"Eight Extremities Collapse!"

He alternated between punches and palm strikes, layering eight surges of force one atop another. Then he drove out his final punch, infused with the power of the Heavenly Flame, straight at Zhao Wuji's chest.

Zhao Wuji raised his hand again.

One slap.

Xiao Yan went flying once more.

This time, he flew even farther—fifteen meters. He rolled four or five times after hitting the ground, his clothes torn in several places and the markings of the Heavenly Flame on his right arm dimmed.

"Cough, cough... Puh—" Xiao Yan spat out a mouthful of blood and pushed himself up. Swaying, he forced himself to his feet.

Zhao Wuji frowned. "Kid, you're hurting yourself."

Xiao Yan didn't answer.

He drew a deep breath and charged again.

The third slap.

The fourth slap.

The fifth slap.

The sixth slap.

The seventh slap.

Each time, Zhao Wuji sent Xiao Yan flying with an effortless slap. Each time, Xiao Yan got back up, battered and bruised, covered in wounds. And each time he rose, he shouted—

"Thirty years east of the river!"

"Thirty years west of the river!"

"Never look down on a young man just because he's poor!"

His voice grew hoarser and weaker each time, but every shout still tore from his throat with all his strength, with all the anguish in his heart, as though those ten words were his last scrap of pride, his only support.

Everyone at the edge of the training ground fell silent.

Dai Mubai no longer found it funny.

Something in Zhu Zhuqing's gaze changed.

Ma Hongjun's mouth hung open, but no sound came out.

Oscar's hand stopped in midair. He didn't even notice the sausage fall to the ground.

Ning Rongrong's eyes reddened.

"That was the seventh time..." Dai Mubai murmured. "He's been slapped away seven times already..."

"Why does he keep getting back up?" Ma Hongjun couldn't understand. "I'd have given up and stayed down ages ago."

"Because he's Xiao Yan," Zhu Zhuqing said suddenly.

Everyone turned to look at her.

Zhu Zhuqing didn't explain. She simply watched the figure getting back up on the training ground once more.

The eighth time.

Xiao Yan climbed to his feet. Blood and dirt were mixed across his face, making him unrecognizable. His left eye was swollen shut, and his right eye could only open to a narrow slit. His lips were split, his teeth were loose, and at least three of his ribs were broken.

But the fire in his eyes hadn't gone out.

If anything, it burned even brighter.

His right arm glowed blue again, and the Heavenly Flame reignited. This time, the flames were fiercer than ever before. Blue light shone across his face, making him look like an Asura who had crawled out of hell.

Zhao Wuji's expression finally changed.

Not because of Xiao Yan's strength—to be honest, Xiao Yan's attacks barely even tickled him. What changed his expression was the boy's refusal to give in.

"This kid..." Zhao Wuji muttered. "Is he a cockroach or something?"

"Hyah—!"

Xiao Yan roared and charged at Zhao Wuji again. This time, he used no techniques at all. He simply threw himself forward—purely, wildly, recklessly—with the Heavenly Flame burning around his right fist as he hurled it at Zhao Wuji.

Zhao Wuji sighed.

This time, he used thirty percent of his strength.

"Bang!"

A muffled impact.

Xiao Yan flew backward as if he'd been struck by a mountain, hurtling through the air so fast the eye could barely follow him. He smashed through the first wall at the edge of the training ground—bricks flying, dust billowing—then kept flying and crashed through the second wall, then the third.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

Three earth-shaking crashes. Three walls collapsed.

Buried beneath the rubble, Xiao Yan made no sound.

The training ground fell deathly silent.

Zhao Wuji lowered his hand, his expression complicated. "Did I hit him too hard?"

Dai Mubai swallowed. "What do you think, Teacher Zhao?"

Just then, something stirred in the rubble.

Bricks shifted, and dust rose.

A hand reached out from beneath the debris. Then a second, followed by a head, then a shoulder.

Xiao Yan crawled out of the rubble.

He was covered in blood, his clothes shredded into rags. His right arm hung at a bizarre angle—dislocated. His left leg dragged as he limped, clearly injured as well. Blood covered his face, hiding his expression.

But he was still standing.

Bracing himself against the rubble with his good left hand, he swayed as he got to his feet. His body wobbled, and he nearly fell again, but he gritted his teeth and steadied himself.

Then he raised his head and looked at Zhao Wuji with the one eye he could barely open.

The corners of his mouth lifted.

He raised his left thumb.

"Th-thirty years..."

His voice was broken and faint as a thread, but every word came through clearly.

"East of the river..."

Dai Mubai finally couldn't hold back. He leaned toward Zhu Zhuqing and whispered, "Does this guy have a masochistic streak?"

Zhu Zhuqing didn't answer, but a trace of respect had entered her gaze as she looked at Xiao Yan.

"Thirty years east of the river..."

Xiao Yan's voice grew weaker and weaker.

"Don't look down..."

His body began to sway.

"On a young man..."

His vision began to blur.

"...in poverty..."

After he uttered the final word, Xiao Yan's body finally gave out, and he toppled backward.

"Thud."

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

A faint smile still lingered at the corner of his mouth.

"I'll... be back..."

Those were the words he left behind before losing consciousness.

Zhao Wuji walked over, crouched down, and checked Xiao Yan's breathing. After examining his injuries, he let out a breath of relief. "He won't die, but he'll need to lie down for at least three days."

"Oscar!" Zhao Wuji shouted. "Get over here and treat him!"

"Coming, coming!" Oscar ran over, muttering, "I Have a Big Sausage! I Have a Big Sausage!"

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

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

"This kid... is kind of interesting."

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

Dai Mubai said, "He really dared to fight."

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

Zhu Zhuqing said, "It's not that he dared to fight. He had no choice."

Ning Rongrong whispered, "What exactly did he mean by 'Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west of the river'?"

No one could answer.

But they sensed that those incomprehensible words concealed all the pride and resentment of a young man.

In the distance, Han Li stood in the shadow of the teaching building, ledger in hand, his pen hovering above the page. For a long time, he didn't put it down.

He watched as the boy was carried away from the training ground and remained silent for a long while.

Then he turned to a fresh page and wrote a few words:

"Person 305: Xiao Yan. Notes: Extremely difficult to deal with. Knows when to yield and when to stand firm; indomitable. Not to be made an enemy. If the opportunity arises, he could become an ally."

When he finished, he closed the ledger and turned to disappear into the shadows.

In a tree beside the training ground, Wang Lin, dressed in white, looked down on everything from above, a playful smile rising at the corner of his mouth.

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

Then his gaze settled on the direction Han Li had disappeared, and his smile deepened.

"Each with their own designs and aims. This world is getting more and more interesting."

With a light leap, he drifted down from the tree, his white robes like snow and his hair like ink, not a speck of dust upon him.

As he passed Tang San, Tang San was explaining what had happened to Xiao Wu. "That Xiao Yan was incredible. He got knocked flying eight times and still managed to get back up..."

Wang Lin paused and glanced sideways at Tang San, leaving him with a single remark before drifting away.

"Floor tile."

Tang San: "..."

Xiao Wu patted Tang San on the shoulder. "Third Brother, don't take it to heart. He's crazy too."

Tang San looked like he was about to cry.

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

And the boy who had been carried away was still murmuring in his sleep:

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

"Don't look down... on a young man in poverty..."

The corners of his mouth lifted as he dreamed.

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

But at the end of the dream, he saw someone standing before the Xiao Clan gates, facing the endless jeers. For the first time, that person shouted those words.

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

"Don't be afraid. You'll grow stronger."

"Strong enough to make everyone shut up."

"Strong enough to turn thirty years east of the river into thirty years west of the river."

Young Xiao Yan smiled.

In the dream, he cried.

As Xiao Yan lay unconscious, tears slid down his cheeks and fell onto the yellow earth, disappearing in an instant.