Teaching His Roommate a Lesson

Ning Tian and Nezha, standing beside her, wholeheartedly agreed. Wu Feng's rant had spoken straight to their hearts.

None of the three spared a thought for the old man reclining in the sun by the dormitory entrance a short distance away.

The old man wore gray cloth robes, and the wrinkles on his face were as deep as ravines, enough to trap dozens of flies. His eyes were dim, his eyelids drooping. He looked like a candle guttering in the wind, ready to drift off at any moment.

Sunlight fell between the buildings and spilled over him, making him look quite comfortable as he reclined in his chair. An old teapot sat beside his hand, a faint wisp of steam rising from its spout.

The old man spoke feebly, his voice as raspy as sandpaper scraping rough wood. "The girls' dormitories start on the fourth floor. You're not allowed up there. Anyone caught will be expelled."

Nezha tilted his head to glance at the old man and replied casually, "Got it, old man."

With that, he led the two girls around him and into the dormitory building.

This man was none other than Mu En, Shrek Academy's Sea God Pavilion Master, a Level 99 Limit Douluo titled the Dragon God, and one of the strongest figures on the Douluo Continent.

Mu En remained motionless in the same position, seemingly unconcerned by the three children's rudeness.

Yet after Nezha and the girls left, those clouded eyes opened a sliver. His gaze passed through the dappled shadows of the trees and settled on their retreating backs.

His lips moved as he murmured:

"One at level thirty-seven, one at level thirty-one. The younger generation truly is formidable."

The student dormitory was a corridor-style building, with rooms lining both sides of a long hallway and numbered plaques on the doors. A stale smell hung in the corridor, and footsteps echoed with particular clarity through the long, narrow space.

Nezha parted ways with the two girls and found his room by the number on his key.

The dormitory's layout was simple, with a passage dividing the rooms into two rows. Nezha's room was number 107. Room 108 directly opposite was still empty; its occupants had yet to arrive.

He reached his room and pushed his way inside.

The dormitory door stood open.

The room was tiny, only about ten square meters. Two beds took up most of the space, leaving nothing else but a table and two metal wardrobes.

The Soul Guidance Lamp on the ceiling brightly illuminated the small room-and the mess strewn across its floor.

A boy about Nezha's age lounged comfortably against a cushion on one bed. He had black hair, blue eyes, and delicate features, and held a bag of snacks bought in Shrek City, crumbs covering his mouth as he ate. When he noticed someone entering, he cast an indifferent glance at the doorway. Then, realizing his new roommate was even better-looking than he was, he curled his lip in displeasure, looked away, and continued eating, showing no intention of greeting him.

His belongings were piled haphazardly on the other bed-Nezha's bed.

Clothes, books, snack bags, and miscellaneous junk covered the entire mattress. The floor was an even more appalling sight, littered with fruit peels, scraps of paper, and wrappers, leaving scarcely anywhere to put a foot.

Nezha stood in the doorway, looked down at the rubbish covering the floor, then up at the bed piled high with belongings. His expression did not change.

He walked inside, bent down, grabbed the things on his bed that did not belong to him with both hands, and swept them all up.

Clatter-

Books, clothes, snack bags, and miscellaneous junk all hit the already filthy floor in a clattering heap.

"Fuck! How dare you throw my shit on the floor!"

The boy sprang off his bed and hurled down his snack bag, his delicate features instantly twisting with rage. He landed barefoot in the rubbish and pointed right at Nezha's nose, his voice shrill and grating.

"You're asking for a beating!"

Nezha raised an eyebrow and tipped his chin up slightly, undisguised contempt in his fiery red eyes. "Yeah, I threw it. What are you going to do about it?"

At the sight of Nezha's contemptuous expression, the anger already simmering in the boy's belly because the other boy was more handsome than him finally exploded.

He roared and swung a vicious hook at the face he envied.

Nezha stood where he was.

Only when the fist was almost at his face did he leisurely raise his hand and swing a slap.

He struck later, but landed first.

Smack-

The sharp, ringing slap exploded through the cramped dorm room. It spun the boy a full turn on the spot before his foot slipped and he fell onto his backside amid the rubbish.

His delicate face reddened and swelled before the naked eye, a distinct handprint rising on his left cheek.

The boy, so arrogant a moment earlier, felt the world spin as stars burst across his vision. Only afterward did he register the numbness in his cheek. Then a piercing, swollen ache exploded beneath his skin, bringing tears to his eyes in an instant.

He had lived in pampered luxury since childhood, spoiled by elders who cradled him in their palms. When had he ever suffered such humiliation?

Rage washed away his reason, and he no longer cared about anything else. Sitting on the floor with a hand over his face, he glared up at Nezha and screamed hysterically, "You fucking dared to hit me! I'll kill you!"

The instant he finished speaking, his soul power surged, and two yellow Soul Rings rose from beneath his feet, their light flickering.

His muscles bulged, and his hands twisted into two thick tiger paws with claws as sharp as hooks. A low tiger's roar erupted from within him, carrying a trace of savage ferocity. He sprang off the floor and lunged at Nezha.

The pounce came with tremendous momentum, his tiger claws wrapped in the glow of soul power as they sliced through the air toward Nezha's face. Among Soul Masters his age, it would have been a fierce attack. But in Nezha's eyes-

Too slow.

He did not even move his feet, merely turning his body slightly as the tiger claws brushed past the hem of his clothes and missed. The instant the boy's lunge went wide, Nezha raised his right hand, gathered soul power in his palm, and delivered another slap backhanded, planting it squarely on the boy's right cheek.

Smack-

This one rang even louder than the first.

The slap spun the boy a full turn in the opposite direction. He stumbled and crashed heavily onto his backside.

Now his delicate face was utterly ruined. A handprint marked each cheek in perfect symmetry, both sides swollen high and gleaming red, as though he had stuffed two steamed buns into his mouth. A thin trickle of blood seeped from the corner of his lips, ran down his chin, and dripped onto his collar.

The boy slumped on the floor with both hands covering his cheeks, his head buzzing.

That slap had short-circuited him outright. His mind was blank, countless stars whirled before his eyes, and all he could hear was the pounding of his own heart.

He opened his mouth, trying to say something, but his cheeks were so swollen that he could not even close it. Only muffled whimpers escaped. His once-defiant eyes held nothing but bewilderment and vacant stupor, as though someone had plucked something vital from his brain. He could no longer remember who he was or why he was sitting on the floor.

He simply sat there in a daze, clutching his burning cheeks, utterly motionless.