At the Minister of Personnel's residence, Cui Zhixia lay lifelessly on his couch, utterly still, having just had the dressing on his injured foot changed.
"Xia'er... you must pull yourself together. You cannot let one minor defeat knock you down for good. Of all the younger members of our Cui Family, the Old Patriarch values you most. You cannot keep sinking into despair like this."
Sitting beside the couch, Cui Yizhong gazed worriedly at his dispirited son and gently tried to persuade him.
"Father... this match stripped me of all dignity. You saw it yourself-I made a complete fool of myself in the arena that day. Now... how am I supposed to go outside? How am I supposed to face those waiting to laugh at me?"
Cui Zhixia leaned over the edge of the couch and spat viciously. The maid attending him hurriedly brought him a cup of fragrant tea.
Cui Zhixia took the cup and lifted its lid. A rich fragrance wafted out-it was premium Xinyang Maojian tea.
He took a great gulp, swished it around his mouth, and spat it into the spittoon. Since returning home, he had brushed his teeth and rinsed his mouth countless times, yet he still felt that a foul stench lingered in his mouth, refusing to fade.
"A hundred-legged insect does not fall stiff even in death. I still underestimated the Knowledge and Practice Institute. Who would have thought... besides that He An, they could train a freak like Fan Dazhi? That damned cur! I must kill him with my own hands before the hatred in my heart can be quenched!"
At the mere thought of Fan Dazhi, uncontrollable fury surged within Cui Zhixia. His handsome face twisted into a savage grimace, and he spat viciously several more times.
"Xia'er, rest assured. I