"Tell me you were just talking out of your ass, that you were joking," Xing Zhan said, staring fixedly at Nangong Su, his bronze-bell eyes round and wide.
"Ah! Old Xing, all I did was take in such a talented student. How could you treat me like this?" Nangong Su took a sip of tea and spoke in a mocking tone.
Holding his teacup with one leg crossed over the other, he looked like he was begging for a beating.
"All right, I know what you came here for. You came to show off." Xing Zhan looked ready to pound someone.
His fists clenched with audible cracks, the muscles in his arms bulging one by one, veins standing out as though they might burst at any moment.
"I'll give you ten breaths. Get the hell out!"
"Ahem, Old Xing, that's not fair! You took in so many talented students before. Did I ever say anything?" Nangong Su said, speechless.
"Three breaths left!" Xing Zhan's fists were already clenched. His knuckles cracked, and even the stone slabs beneath his feet trembled.
"You really can't take a joke!" Nangong Su was speechless. The next instant, his figure vanished.
"Hmph, who knows what kind of dogshit luck that old bastard stumbled into!" Xing Zhan picked up the tea beside him and drained it in one gulp. He slammed the cup onto the table with a dull thud, splashing a few drops of tea.
He had always been the one showing off in front of Nangong Su before. He had never expected the wheel of fortune to turn and make it his turn.
"That brute gets worked up as soon as he loses an argument," Nangong Su said cheerfully. "Next, I'll visit the Scripture Institute first. That old hag won't hit anyone when she