Caught Red-Handed, What Else Do You Have to Say?

The "disciplinary education zone" that the Title Douluo had spontaneously cordoned off soon fell silent.

Bruised and battered, Demon Bear Douluo looked like a husky that had finally been beaten into obedience, his eyes filled with pure, vacant stupidity.

He could not understand it.

He had clearly been speaking up for Spirit Hall, so why had he gotten beaten up?

"Humph!"

Golden Crocodile Douluo casually tossed him onto the ground, then gave Yu Luomian a cold snort, trying to salvage what little dignity Spirit Hall had left.

"Poor discipline at home. Sorry you had to see that."

Yu Luomian: "..."

Sorry I had to see that?

I can't fucking laugh right now!

He looked at the group of Title Douluo who, one second ago, had been united in glaring angrily at him, and the next had started brawling among themselves over a single remark—only to now stand back in place as though nothing had happened.

Yu Luomian felt as if ten thousand wild horses were stampeding through his heart.

How the hell was he supposed to fight this battle?

Every person on the other side was a Title Douluo, and each of them was more mentally unstable than the last.

And on his side?

His only potential ally, Tang Xiao, was currently looking at him with even more hatred than he would at the murderer of his father.

His final trump card—the hostage—was his ally's own nephew.

This was practically a hellish opening, and the eighteenth level of hell at that!

Bibi Dong had no interest in his complicated thoughts at the moment.

The chill in her phoenix-like eyes was nearly enough to freeze the air.

"Yu Luomian."

"I ask you."

"You keep insisting that Spirit Hall robbed your treasure vault."

Bibi Dong's tone was calm, yet it carried the