A commotion erupted among the spectators, even livelier than when they had watched Xiao Yan sprinting around earlier.
A man in a short jacket triumphantly waved a few copper coins, spittle flying as he demanded his winnings from the bookmaker.
"Hahaha! I won, I won! I told you they'd say 'fucking' first! Come on, come on, pay up!"
Beside him, several people who had bet on "son of a bitch," "damn your ancestors," or other, more "refined" curses looked thoroughly dejected. Some slapped their thighs, while others held their heads and sighed.
"Damn! So close! I forgot Xiao Yi had no class either! What a loss!"
Amid the noise and clamor, a translucent figure silently squeezed into the crowd. Yao Lao watched the two boys wrestling with keen interest, his eyes gleaming with the delight of a spectator who never minded a little more trouble.
He glanced at the impromptu bookmaker collecting and handing out money, and a smile curled his lips. Producing a few gold coins he had "borrowed" from who knew where, he quietly passed them over, adding them to the pile for "Xiao Yi wins."
Everyone was so caught up in the excitement that not a single person noticed this brazen daylight "haunting."
The fight grew increasingly fierce, escalating from punches and kicks to more primitive grappling. Xiao Yan and Xiao Yi had both seized each other's hair. Neither would yield, baring their teeth as they pulled backward with all their strength, as though trying to rip the other's scalp clean off.
Both their faces flushed crimson with exertion. Their earlier anger mingled with their current pain, making their expressions especially vicious.
"Let go, you bastard!" "You first! Fuck! I just got my hair done!" "Can't win, so you pull hair? Loser!" "Introducing yourself? Dumbass!"
Seeing that