Everyone Begged for Mercy

"Are you joking?"

Fang Fan stopped in front of Prince Xue Xing, the hem of his white robe pausing amid the dust.

He looked down at the prince who had just been shouting about exterminating his entire clan, his gaze as cold as if he were looking at a stone:

"Your royal family is really good at joking.

Trying to forcibly take away a beautiful girl you fancy is a joke.

And when you cannot take her, you want to kill someone.

That is a joke too.

Right?"

With every sentence, he took a step forward,

and every step landed upon Prince Xue Xing's violently trembling heartbeat.

Zhu Zhuqing followed behind him, the hem of her black clothes swaying slightly,

her deep eyes carrying the exact same look Fang Fan gave Prince Xue Xing,

cold and calm, without the slightest trace of sympathy.

"Your Heaven Dou royal family truly is domineering.

Does being strong mean you can kill people whenever you please?

Exterminate nine clans?"

Zhu Zhuqing came to a stop beside him.

Fang Fan raised a hand and pointed at Prince Xue Xing, who was kneeling on the ground, then tilted his head to glance at Dugu Bo, who had just crawled out of the rubble.

"How about I let Zhuqing exterminate him, then exterminate him too?"

Zhu Zhuqing froze for a moment and looked down at her fingers—

one was a prince, and the other was the Poison Douluo.

Killing them would mean becoming mortal enemies with the entire Heaven Dou Empire,

but after hesitating for only an instant, she crushed those concerns.

If Fang Fan said kill, she would kill.

"Um, um—

I was just talking big. How would I dare lay a hand on you? Please spare me!"

Prince Xue Xing immediately began kowtowing, his forehead slamming against the stone floor with loud thuds. Within a few strikes, it had turned blue and purple.

His dark purple princely robes trailed through the dirt, his hair bun mostly undone, and his gray-white hair clung miserably to his sweat-soaked temples.

Where was his lofty arrogance now?

All that remained was the humiliation of kneeling and begging for mercy, and the abject fear that had seeped into his bones.

The two teachers stood with their mouths agape, unable to close them for a long while—

A dignified prince of Heaven Dou, Xue Ye's younger brother, a figure whom even the Three Excellencies and Nine Ministers in court treated with deference, was now kneeling before a boy of thirteen or fourteen and kowtowing until he bled.

The sight made their scalps tingle. The boy did not even blink much.

Zhu Zhuqing remained as cold as ever. It was not that she was hard-hearted; she simply understood all too well—

if Fang Fan had not been strong, if Du Busi had not been protecting him, then they would be the ones kneeling and kowtowing now.

No, they would not even have the chance to kowtow. They would simply die.

In this world, the strong were honored and the weak were slaves, cheaper than grass. She unconsciously moved closer to Fang Fan, her shoulder nearly pressing against his arm. She could clearly feel the warmth of his body and his crisp sword intent.

She remembered the moment he descended from the sky in the Star Luo Wasteland—

the Seven-Colored Light Sword tore through the dust-filled sky, his white robes fluttering as though he were an immortal from the heavens.

She remembered how he drunkenly leaned against her shoulder at Shrek and recited poetry, then casually sent Zhao Wuji flying with a single sword strike.

She remembered what he said when they encountered Ma Hongjun: "He is yours to deal with. I will bear any consequences."

She remembered how he had used the Azure Lotus Sword Song to forcibly receive Dugu Bo's sixth soul skill just now, only coughing up a mouthful of blood without retreating even half a step.

Fang Fan was her lucky star.

If not for him, she would have died in the wasteland,

been forcibly taken away by Dai Mubai at Shrek,

been humiliated by Ma Hongjun outside Suotuo City, and by now would have been locked in Xue Beng's bedchamber.

She suddenly felt guilty.

It seemed that every bit of trouble had arisen because of her.

Her face and figure were like flowers that bloomed too brilliantly, attracting covetous gazes and greedy hands wherever she went.

"Am I too much trouble?"

She asked softly, her voice carrying a rare hint of weakness.

Fang Fan turned to look at her. When his lazy eyes fell upon her face, they suddenly softened somewhat,

and the corners of his lips curled into a roguish smile. His handsome face was especially dazzling beneath the afternoon sunlight:

"How could that be? Those people covet your beauty—but unfortunately, they were not as quick as I was."

Zhu Zhuqing's face instantly flushed, the heat spreading from her cheeks to her ears and down her neck.

Her usually cool eyes darted away in rare embarrassment. Her lips moved, but she could not say a single word,

and she lowered her head as several loose strands of hair fell along her reddened cheeks.

That answer was indeed very Fang Fan.

Ning Rongrong stood some distance away, biting her lip as bitterness churned within her.

Damn Zhu Zhuqing—she was beautiful, had such a good figure, and could stand beside Fang Fan openly and properly.

Fang Fan usually drifted through life drunk and carefree, slouching around without a care, but once he became serious, he was immortal-like, handsome, and domineering. As sword light flashed around him, he was so dashing that no one could look away.

She looked at Fang Fan's profile—his sword-like brows reached his temples, and his nose was high and straight.

The curve of his smile from when he had just smiled at Zhu Zhuqing still lingered at his lips. Her heartbeat sped up, and her cheeks grew hot.

It was exceedingly rare in a long life to meet someone who could make one's heart stir,

and Ning Rongrong had always gotten whatever she wanted since childhood, whether it was wind or rain. There had never been anything she set her sights on that she could not obtain.

The same went for a man she wanted. She would never miss the man she had chosen, and she would definitely hold onto him tightly.

"Spare me—I do not want to die either! I still have a granddaughter to care for! I cannot die!"

Dugu Bo struggled to kneel amid the rubble and began kowtowing like Prince Xue Xing.

His sallow face was filled with terror, his emerald pupils contracted violently, and his graying hair was covered in dust and stone fragments. Several tears had been cut into his dark green robe by the rubble, leaving him in an utterly wretched state.

"I only acted to repay Prince Xue Xing's favor. I had no other ill intentions toward you!"

"Heh."

Fang Fan sneered. His gaze moved away from Zhu Zhuqing's flushed face, and when it fell upon Dugu Bo, it returned to detached scrutiny:

"You are really good at joking. Did you attack or not?"

Dugu Bo was left speechless. His old face alternated between green and white, and after his lips trembled for a long while, he squeezed out a sentence:

"I was wrong..."

Then he continued kowtowing with loud thuds.

Du Busi's pressure was too overwhelming, so overwhelming that this ninety-first-ranked Titled Douluo could not even muster the thought of resisting.

He could feel that the green-robed old man was standing not far away, his bell-like eyes fixed upon the back of his neck, ready to crush him like an ant at any moment.

Having lived for most of his life and cultivated from an ordinary Mandala Snake into a Titled Douluo, he did not want to die here just like this.

Dense footsteps sounded from the end of the corridor.

Xue Ye walked at the front, the golden dragon patterns on his white imperial robes glittering. Beneath the Nine-Dragon Crown, his white-bearded face was as gloomy as the sky before a storm.

The three chief education committee members followed in single file—

Meng Shenmiao led them, the golden soul-ring patterns on his dark blue robe swaying slightly with his steps, his aged face filled with solemnity and confusion.

They all stopped at the same time.

The three chiefs and Xue Ye stood at the corridor's corner, staring blankly at the sight before them—

Prince Xue Xing knelt on the ground, his forehead bruised blue and purple as he kept muttering, "Spare me";

Dugu Bo was likewise kneeling, dirty and disheveled as he kowtowed and repeatedly said, "I was wrong";

a youth in white stood with his hands behind his back, with two stunning young women at his side;

farther away, a green-robed old man with white hair and beard, his entire body knotted with muscles, stood with his arms crossed, emanating a terrifying aura that made one's heart quiver.

"What is going on?"

Xue Ye's voice was low and majestic, slowly echoing through the corridor.

His gaze swept from Prince Xue Xing to Dugu Bo, then to Fang Fan, before finally falling upon the green-robed old man—

his pupils contracted slightly. That old man's aura was more than a level stronger than Dugu Bo's.