Qin Fen was about to neglect his real job again

Hold it in. I had to hold it in! Park Jinhoon was a grandmaster with rock-solid mental fortitude. As an Aikido practitioner, his ability to maintain his composure was exceptional. Unfortunately, that all depended on what he had been through—and whom he was dealing with.

Who was Qin Fen? The world's number one cesspit. That was universally acknowledged in the Heavenly Court; no one could hold a candle to him. Could a mere mortal's self-control compare to an immortal's? Could it compare to the Jade Emperor's? Even a fraction of the years he had lived would crush you.

Even an exalted being like the Jade Emperor had been driven into feigning unconsciousness twice and coughing up blood from anger by Big Chef. Park Jinhoon? He might as well wash up and go to bed.

Indeed, the Korean grandmaster already felt like coughing up blood. He had not even exchanged blows with the man, yet he was already sick to his stomach. A man from China had learned Aikido in mere minutes, attained an absurdly high level, and lectured him like a naughty grandson. No matter how good Park Jinhoon's self-control was, he could not swallow that.

Worse still, the slaps in the face came from every direction. He had wanted to make trouble for Qin Fen, only to end up abandoned by everyone. He had talked tactics, and the man had promptly demonstrated what tactics really meant. He was a grandmaster, ready to have a bout with him, but that level of mastery? Fuck your uncle!

Park Jinhoon's heart ached. Precisely because the man had never fought him and had merely offered instruction, the gulf between their abilities stood out even more. Fight him, my ass!

Was he supposed to go on living like this? This guy had learned Aikido