The Vicious Woman Bibi Dong

"Take his core theory, for instance," Deng Tianxin held up three short fingers. "First, 'there are no trash spirits, only trash spirit masters.' Sounds incredibly inspiring, right? But he is the best counter-example himself. His spirit mutated into a farting pig, and he has never been able to break through level thirty. He is that very trash spirit master. He spent his entire life proving his own theory wrong. I almost want to applaud him for such a self-sacrificing spirit of falsification."

Liu Erlong's mouth twitched; she wanted to laugh but felt it wouldn't be kind.

"Second," Deng Tianxin held up another finger, "the Spirit Mimicry Cultivation Theory, which claims that cultivating in an environment suited to one's spirit yields better results. There's nothing wrong with that, but does it really need him to summarize it? For thousands of years, what spirit master hasn't known to cultivate in a place that suits them? It's common sense; he just wrote common sense into a paper and then called himself a 'Grandmaster of Theory'."

"Third, the Spirit Ring Absorption Limit Theory. This is his most impressive work—just a summary of what level can absorb how many years of spirit rings." Deng Tianxin paused, his expression turning more subtle. "But nothing is absolute. Can you guarantee everyone's limit is the same?"

Liu Erlong listened to Deng Tianxin's point-by-point analysis. Initially, she was merely curious, but as he continued, her expression grew increasingly serious.

She leaned back against the chair, arms crossed over her chest, brows slightly furrowed as if she were carefully digesting every word he said.

"So, you're saying that fellow's theories are all just for show?" Liu Erlong asked, her tone devoid of rebuttal, purely out of curiosity.

"Not entirely," Deng Tianxin was objective for once, picking up his half-eaten chicken leg again. "The Spirit Ring Absorption Limit Theory is indeed useful; it fills a gap in research. His study on the compatibility of tool spirits and beast spirits is also decent. Although he didn't pioneer the concept, he categorized it quite systematically. As for the rest..."

Deng Tianxin paused, took a bite of the chicken leg, and mumbled, "It's either common sense rephrased or 'toxic chicken soup' that he can't even practice himself. But to be fair, in an era without systematic theoretical guidance, it wasn't easy to summarize these things. The problem is that theory is theory, and practice is practice. He's been stuck at level twenty-nine for so long that he lacks the confidence to speak, so it's only natural that others don't believe him."

Deng Tianxin's voice wasn't loud, but the first floor of the inn was quiet, and several merchants at nearby tables were pricking up their ears.

As soon as he finished speaking, the middle-aged merchant at the next table slammed his thigh, his wine bowl hitting the table with a dull thud.

"Well said!" The merchant looked excited, as if he had found a kindred spirit. "This little brother hit the nail on the head! I've flipped through a few pages of Yu Xiaogang's book, and after reading it, I had one thought: isn't this all just nonsense? For example, his classification of tool spirits and beast spirits—a three-year-old knows this. Did it really need him to summarize it?"

"Exactly," an old man wearing a felt hat at the opposite table chimed in, puffing on his pipe. "I've been in the spirit master circle for forty years; what theories haven't I seen? His Ten Core Competencies is, at the end of the day, just old ancestral experience given a fancy name. 'Spirit Mimicry Cultivation'? Isn't that just finding a place that suits you? Do I need him to teach me that?"

"The most ridiculous part is that 'no trash spirits' line," a young spirit master in the corner sneered, spinning the wine cup in his hand. "He is the biggest piece of trash himself, slinking out of the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Sect and stuck at level twenty-nine without moving an inch. This is 'no trash spirits'? Isn't he a living counter-example?"

"You can't say that," a more seasoned merchant stroked his beard to mediate. "His Spirit Ring Absorption Limit table is still quite useful. At least now, young people don't have to guess blindly when adding spirit rings; they can just follow the table."

"It's useful, sure, but isn't that just statistical data? Anything you could summarize by flipping through archives at any Spirit Hall branch, he packaged as a 'core theory' and wrote a book to promote everywhere. If that isn't fishing for fame, what is?" The young spirit master curled his lip in disdain.

Deng Tianxin listened to the surrounding discussion, the corners of his mouth curling into an imperceptible arc as he continued to gnaw on his chicken leg.

Liu Erlong watched his calm and composed little appearance and couldn't help but kick him under the table, lowering her voice. "You certainly know how to stir the pot."

"I didn't do anything," Deng Tianxin blinked with an innocent expression. "I just analyzed things realistically. The eyes of the masses are sharp."

A heavy footstep suddenly echoed from upstairs, followed by the sound of a door being violently pulled open.

A man walked out of the room; that man was none other than Yu Xiaogang.

"Trash is trash. Does writing a book make you someone?"

"What kind of future is there in theoretical research? This world values strength, not a pen."

"He's a level twenty-nine trash spirit himself, yet he has the nerve to teach others that there are no trash spirits?"

Yu Xiaogang's fingers nearly embedded themselves into the wooden railing, the skin of his fingertips pricked by rough wooden splinters until tiny beads of blood appeared, yet he felt nothing.

His gaze swept across the faces of the merchants downstairs one by one, finally landing on the little boy in the corner who was still gnawing on a chicken leg.

The child looked at most seven or eight years old, with a pair of rounded dragon horns on his forehead. He was tilting his head as he chewed, his cheeks bulging and his mouth covered in grease, looking completely harmless.

But those clear, incisive rebuttals had come from this small mouth.

A seven-year-old child had rendered his theories worthless, and the people around him were actually agreeing.

A child.

The theories he had spent so long summarizing were treated as a joke by a child.

Yu Xiaogang recognized the boy as Deng Tianxin, Bibi Dong's son.

Soon, Yu Xiaogang realized.

This had nothing to do with Deng Tianxin; this was Bibi Dong's conspiracy!

How could a child possibly understand his theories? There was only one possibility: this was arranged by Bibi Dong!

Fine, fine, fine. Bibi Dong, you truly are a vicious woman.

She had previously tried to make him take the fall, and he had run away without hesitation. Now, this woman, Bibi Dong, actually wanted to ruin him.

He had never seen such a vicious woman.

Yu Xiaogang was now immensely grateful—grateful that he had decisively broken up with Bibi Dong back then and hadn't listened to her devilish words. Otherwise, he would have been completely manipulated by her.