Xiao Yi's barrage of twisted reasoning shoved every curse Xiao Yan had been about to unleash back into his chest, nearly leaving him unable to catch his breath.
He simply could not find a single logical flaw in Xiao Yi's warped arguments, yet they still struck him as utterly absurd. That bastard always managed to say things infuriating enough to kill a man, in a tone infuriating enough to kill him twice over.
Xiao Yan felt all the blood in his body rushing to his head, his body trembling slightly with sheer fury.
Watching Xiao Yan stand there speechless, red-faced and thick-necked, looking for all the world like a rooster with its feathers bristling, Xiao Yi's smile grew even brighter.
"So, little brother, you need to read more and think more. See? Isn't my 'Daoist art' profound and vast, containing the ultimate truths of heaven and earth? Stop shouting about fighting and killing at the drop of a hat. It makes you look so uncultured."
With that, he smugly hefted the "ritual implement" in his hand, looking as irritating as humanly possible.
Not far away, Yao Lao had long since grown accustomed to the brothers' daily "friendly sparring." He could not even be bothered to lift an eyelid, merely sighing inwardly. Neither of these two brats ever gave him a moment's peace.
Just as Xiao Yan's pent-up fury was about to drive him to throw caution to the wind and charge at Xiao Yi for some "friendly sparring," two slightly puzzled voices suddenly rang out, almost simultaneously.
"Xiao Yan?"
"Little Yanzi?"
Those voices could not have been more familiar to Xiao Yan. He froze, the fury in his chest extinguished in an instant as though someone had poured a basin of cold water over it. Looking toward the voices, he