At those words, Yu Xiaogang's blood pressure shot straight to the crown of his head, and even his clenched teeth trembled with rage.
What the fuck was that supposed to mean?
You're calling me trash by name, aren't you?
Yu Xiaogang's lips quivered as he frantically searched his brain for a rebuttal, only for his CPU to burn itself dry.
What could I argue back with?
My head?
Everything Lin Chuan had thrown at him was the plain truth.
Did he not know perfectly well what his own martial soul was like?
Stuck fast at the threshold of level twenty-nine for his entire life-didn't that make him solid, undeniable trash?
That boomerang had struck far too firmly.
But if he didn't talk back, where would that leave his dignity as Grandmaster?
Admitting in public that he was trash would hurt worse than killing him.
So he forcibly suppressed his skyrocketing blood pressure, stiffened his neck, and spoke in a voice that shook uncontrollably:
"Y-you're talking absolute bullshit! Is my situation even the same? I'm an exception! Do you understand what an exception is?"
At that, Lin Chuan laughed in sheer exasperation. Yu Xiaogang really had mastered keeping his beak hard even as a dead duck.
"What a fine exception. Then allow me to ask you something. Some people have innate soul power of zero point something, and their martial souls are hoes or sickles. By your divine logic, as long as they huff and puff and work hard, they're guaranteed to defy heaven and change their fate, right?"
"Come on, flip through the history books for me right now. Which Titled Douluo hacked their way to the top with a hoe or a sickle?"
"Don't give me any of that 'great vessels take time to mature' talk. Find even one, and I'll let you slap my face today. Quite obviously, there isn't a single one."
"The most poisonous thing about this theory of yours is how easily you talk while standing there with no pain in your back. You twist the concept, repackaging the objective differences in martial souls' innate quality as 'you just haven't worked hard enough.'"
"To put it plainly, when people without talent can't cultivate successfully, you sneer that they're lazy. When people with poor martial souls can't break through, you wave your hand over the realm and declare that their methods are wrong."
"What, then? Everyone in the world is wrong, and only your mouth, Yu Xiaogang, has been blessed? Your theories are absolute truth?"
"That line you're always spouting, 'there are no trash martial souls, only trash Soul Masters,' is a perfect boomerang when applied to you. Not only does it contradict itself, it slaps you from both sides until your face swells up-twice, twice!"
After hearing Lin Chuan's triple barrage of cultured abuse, Yu Xiaogang shook with rage. His eyes instantly reddened, and his blood pressure shot straight to his head.
He had originally wanted to take Lin Chuan as his disciple.
Judging by the situation now...
Take him as a disciple, my ass!
He instantly hurled that thought beyond the ninth heaven.
Now only one crazed thought remained in his head.
Kill Lin Chuan. I have to kill him.
But reality was all skin and bones.
Despite carrying the title of Grandmaster, Yu Xiaogang's soul power was firmly stuck at level twenty-nine, and his combat strength was downright pathetic.
Send him up against a hundred-year soul beast, and it would probably pin him to the ground and grind him into it instead.
Then there was Lin Chuan: innate full soul power, and possibly twin martial souls...
How could I fight that?
Fight him with my fucking head?
Then should I ask my old friend, the dean, to expel this brat?
Don't be ridiculous.
To put it bluntly, he was nothing but a freeloader at Nuoding Academy, mooching food and drink every day. The dean had long since found him an eyesore. How could he possibly expel a heaven-sent genius for unsellable stock like him?
What do I do?
Yu Xiaogang's CPU burned itself dry.
Fling my sleeves and storm off?
Too humiliating. Retreating before I'd even finished showing off would leave me with no face.
Would I have to unleash the ultimate life-saving technique?
Play dead and faint on the spot?
No, no, that would cheapen me too much.
If he fainted, not only would his lifelong reputation be swept into the dirt, but his good disciple Little San was still lying on the floor.
If he fainted too, master and disciple would both be laid out like corpses in Dorm Seven. That scene would be nothing short of two clowns holding a convention!
No...
This multiple-choice question is beyond the syllabus!
What exactly should I do?
Yu Xiaogang really was on the verge of collapse, his Dao heart shattering into crumbs on the spot.
At this critical moment, just as his defenses were about to crumble, Yu Xiaogang's burned-out CPU suddenly forced itself back into operation.
That's right.
I still have other theories.
His instinct to keep his beak hard even as a dead duck made Yu Xiaogang instantly seize this life-saving straw.
Black cat or white cat, any cat he could drag out to bluff his way through was a good cat.
As for whether those theories actually stood up to scrutiny...
Perhaps only heaven, earth, and he himself knew.
At that thought, Yu Xiaogang forcibly pushed his soaring blood pressure down a little. His eyes were bloodshot from the strain as he glared fixedly at Lin Chuan and said through gritted teeth:
"I refuse to accept it! I absolutely refuse! Even if you refuted what I just said, I still refuse to accept it. I have other theories to discuss!"
Looking at Yu Xiaogang's frantic expression, Lin Chuan nearly laughed aloud.
That's exactly what I was waiting for you to say.
It was all copied material cobbled together from here and there. Finding holes and exposing him was easier than drinking water.
With the expression of someone enjoying a show, Lin Chuan said mockingly:
"Sure. Then I'll wash my ears and listen respectfully. Let's see what other tricks you can pull. But let me get the ugly words out first: when I strip your theories down past their underwear in a moment, I hope you can keep that same confident expression."
At those words, Yu Xiaogang immediately felt capable again. His back straightened in an instant, and his confidence went through the roof.
He cleared his throat and declared with complete confidence:
"Among my Ten Core Competencies of Martial Soul, there is an iron law concerning the ages of soul rings a Soul Master absorbs. The first soul ring must be 423 years old, and the second soul ring 764 years old. This is the painstaking conclusion I reached through countless rigorous observations. There is absolutely no possibility of error, so my theory must be correct."
He paused, raised his chin slightly, and continued his barrage:
"Go ask around outside. Who on the continent doesn't follow my standards when absorbing soul rings nowadays? They've long since become the industry benchmark."
At this point, Yu Xiaogang put on airs, stared fixedly at Lin Chuan, and issued a threat through clenched teeth:
"I'll give you a chance to refute me now. If you can't find a reason, then hurry up and kneel, kowtow, and apologize to me. As for expelling you? Hmph, there's no need. As the great Grandmaster, I'm broad-minded. I won't stoop to your level."
After saying all that, Yu Xiaogang was confident to the extreme, convinced that he had played this perfectly.
Although this information was entirely "borrowed" and cobbled together from various sources, and he had never managed to prove anything through his own practice in his entire life, that didn't matter.
It was written clearly in black and white in the history books. If some blind fool really had broken this law, how could the history books not have recorded it?
This was truth, unquestionable truth.
At those words, Wang Sheng and the others instantly looked at Lin Chuan with some concern.
They didn't know whether this soul-ring-age theory of "423 years, 764 years" really originated with this fake Grandmaster.
But on the Douluo Continent today, many people really did follow this information when selecting the ages of the soul rings they obtained.
So they were a little worried. What if their boss failed to refute him?
But they said nothing. All they had to do was always believe in their boss.