Another Three-Year Pact? Can't Get Past It, Huh?

Beast City, Meng Family.

After returning home, Meng Yiran kicked open the door to the training room, her little face practically saying, "I'm really damn pissed."

"Feng Yun! You just wait!"

She gnashed her teeth and punched at the air.

She was a nine-year-old genius girl, the precious jewel of the Meng Family, a clan of exotic beasts.

From childhood until now, who had not praised her?

Yet that day at the Wind Sword Sect, a little piece of trash at the third innate level had actually dared to look at her like that?

And he had even dared to say something like "don't bully a youth for being poor"?

The more Meng Yiran thought about it, the angrier she became.

"Three years from now, I'll make you understand what 'don't bully a young girl for being poor' means!"

She grabbed a wooden training post and gave it a vicious beating.

Outside the door.

Dragon Duke Meng Shu and Serpent Granny Chao Tianxiang watched their granddaughter go berserk through the crack in the door.

Both of their expressions were rather complicated.

"Old man."

Serpent Granny lowered her voice.

"Was our breaking off the engagement this time... perhaps a little improper?"

Dragon Duke was silent for a long while.

That day, when Feng Yun had said in the main hall, "You're clearly here to trample on my father's dignity," he had known they were in the wrong.

They were senior experts.

The other party was a six-year-old child.

Yet in the end, they had been left speechless by a few words from a child.

Losing face like that felt even worse than breaking off the engagement itself.

"Sigh."

Dragon Duke sighed.

"It was indeed improper."

He stroked his beard, a trace of regret in his tone.

"What that child said back then... 'Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west of the river; don't bully a youth for being poor'..."

Dragon Duke paused, a complex look flashing through his eyes.

"Those aren't words an ordinary child could say."

"Feng Bailong... really did raise a good son."

Serpent Granny also sighed.

"We spoiled her too much."

"That child's nature is too proud. She always feels as though everyone under heaven should revolve around her."

"Running into a wall this time isn't entirely a bad thing."

Dragon Duke nodded.

"Fortunately, the two children are still young."

"Three years from now, no matter who wins or loses, we must take Yiran and go offer a proper apology."

"On this continent, gaining one more friend is better than gaining one more enemy."

Serpent Granny agreed deeply.

The two of them looked once more at their granddaughter inside the training room, viciously beating the wooden post.

"However..."

Dragon Duke suddenly smiled faintly.

"This seems to have stirred up Yiran's motivation to cultivate."

"I suppose that counts as a good thing."

Meng Yiran's furious roar came from inside the training room: "Three years from now, I'll beat him until his teeth are all over the floor—"

The two elders exchanged a look.

Then smiled bitterly at the same time.

Feng Yun sat down cross-legged and began to meditate, looking inward.

The wind-attribute soul power inside his body had grown stronger again.

Azure light flowed slowly through his meridians, carrying a light, graceful rhythm.

At this rate, it would not be long before he broke through to rank ten.

"Once I reach rank ten, Master will teach me combat techniques."

Feng Yun clenched his fist.

The corners of his mouth slowly stretched all the way to his ears.

"Extreme Wind! Extreme Wind!"

"I'm gonna learn Extreme Wind!"

He rolled twice on the bed, then sprang up with a carp flip.

"First, I'll go find Dad and get Whale Glue!"

"Strengthen my body!"

"For cultivation!"

When he said those three words, his tone was especially righteous.

Then he pushed the door open and went out.

In the early morning at the Wind Sword Sect, the thin mist had yet to fully disperse.

Feng Yun moved on his short little legs, heading all the way toward the sect master's main hall.

When he reached the area near the training ground, a figure flashed out from the side.

He blocked the middle of the road.

Feng Yun's steps halted.

After seeing who it was, his brows furrowed.

Feng Lie.

The son of the great elder, Feng Xiao, and the same age as him.

What he had awakened was the Wind Sword Sect's inherited martial soul—the Wind Sword.

And his innate soul power was even at rank seven.

Within the Wind Sword Sect, that counted as top-tier talent.

At this moment, he had his arms crossed over his chest and was looking at Feng Yun down his nose.

That expression was practically the same model as Meng Yiran's.

Feng Yun sighed inwardly.

Here it came.

Whenever this guy appeared, it was guaranteed to be nothing good.

"Feng Yun."

Feng Lie spoke.

His tone carried a weird sarcasm a six-year-old child should not have had.

"I heard your engagement got broken off?"

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. How pitiful."

He shook his head smugly, his expression full of delight at Feng Yun's misfortune.

"My dad told me all about it."

"Dragon Duke and Serpent Grandmother brought their granddaughter to the door and broke off the engagement with you in front of the whole sect."

"Ooh, just thinking about that scene is embarrassing."

Feng Yun's face was expressionless.

He wondered if children on Douluo Continent were all this precocious.

At nine, they knew how to break off engagements.

At eight, they knew how to be sarcastic.

Who the hell taught them this?!

He did not know who taught Meng Yiran.

But this Feng Lie bastard was definitely taught by Feng Xiao!

Back then, Feng Xiao had failed in competing with Dad for the position of sect master, and had bottled up his resentment for so many years.

Since he could not beat Dad himself, that son of a bitch turned to hate education.

He treated his own son like a tool, specifically to compare him against Feng Bailong's son.

Feng Yun knew this routine all too well.

Wasn't it just the classic "Dad couldn't beat his dad back then, so you have to beat him" script?

"Your father sure knows how to teach you."

Feng Yun spoke lightly.

Feng Lie didn't hear the sarcasm in his words. Instead, he grew even more smug.

"Of course."

"My father said the future of the Wind Sword Sect still depends on our branch."

"Your father became sect master back then by relying on luck, but luck won't stay good forever."

He took a step forward.

Then stood on tiptoe, looking down at Feng Yun from above.

"Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Feng Yun raised his head and glanced at him.

"A good dog doesn't block the road."

Feng Lie's expression changed slightly.

But he quickly returned to that arrogant look.

"Still talking tough, huh?"

He pulled a sheet of paper from his robes and snapped it open.

It was a challenge letter.

The handwriting was neat and proper. One look, and it was obvious an adult had written it for him.

"Feng Yun!"

Feng Lie's voice rose a few notches.

"Three years from now, at the sect grand competition!"

"I, Feng Lie, will represent my father, the grand elder's branch, and personally defeat you, the sect master's son!"

"I'll let the entire sect see who the true genius of the Wind Sword Sect is!"

Feng Yun: "..."

Again?!

Another three-year agreement!

He was completely numb.

Was he cursed to keep running into three-year agreements?

Meng Yiran's three-year agreement.

And now Feng Lie's three-year agreement too.

What, was there going to be a soul beast's three-year agreement later on as well?

"How about it?"

Seeing him fall silent, Feng Lie thought he was scared, and his grin grew even more cocky.

"Do you dare accept?"

Feng Yun looked at him.

A six-year-old child, his eyes filled with the desire to prove himself.

The kid himself wasn't bad.

His father had just taught him crooked.

Feng Yun thought of something he'd read in his previous life: behind every brat was a brat of a parent.

Feng Xiao was that brat of a parent.

"I accept."

Feng Yun's voice was very calm.

"Of course I accept."

Feng Lie's eyes lit up.

"But—"

Feng Yun changed tack and kept walking, moving past Feng Lie.

"The loser definitely won't be me."

With that, he left without looking back.

Feng Lie stood frozen in place for a long while.

His face flushed bright red.

"What are you pretending for?!"

He shouted at Feng Yun's back.

"A piece of trash at Xiantian Level Three!"

"In three years, we'll see how long you can keep pretending!"

Feng Yun ignored him.

He only calculated silently in his heart.

Something like a three-year challenge—accepting one was accepting it, and accepting two was still accepting it.

When three years had passed, he would beat Feng Lie up first, then beat Meng Yiran up.

He would just treat it as double leveling experience.

Still, Feng Lie's challenge letter had reminded him of something.

The sect tournament.

It was the ranking competition for the Wind Sword Sect's young disciples under the age of twelve.

This was the major event three years from now.

It was also the best stage for him to wash away the label of trash.

"Three years..."

The corners of Feng Yun's mouth lifted slightly.

"That's enough."

He quickened his pace.

First, he had to find his old man.

The precious Whale Glue was more important!