Are You Worthy?

Only after a long while did Tang Wulin timidly tug at the hem of Bai Yushan's clothes and say quietly, "Classmate Bai Yushan..."

Before Tang Wulin could finish, Bai Yushan turned and slapped him on the back of the head, snapping, "Call me boss. Show some respect."

The blow pitched Tang Wulin's head forward, and his forehead nearly struck the edge of the desk. He clutched the back of his head, his eyes reddening slightly, but he bit his lip and held back his tears.

This boy, who looked like a porcelain doll, possessed a stubbornness beyond his years. He raised his head to look at Bai Yushan and spoke earnestly.

"Classmate Bai Yushan, hitting people is wrong. You don't need to make the teacher think badly of you for my sake."

Bai Yushan laughed in exasperation, a sinister edge to his laughter, genuinely finding it funny. He grinned, revealing a fairly straight set of teeth, and his laughter echoed through the quiet classroom, making people's skin crawl.

Then he grabbed a fistful of Tang Wulin's hair.

That thin hand, which looked as though it had little strength, firmly gripped the hair on top of Tang Wulin's head and pulled upward.

Tang Wulin was hauled out of his chair onto his feet. The sharp pain in his scalp made him hiss, and his hands instinctively grabbed Bai Yushan's wrist, trying to pry that hand open, trying to break free.

Tang Wulin's strength was outstanding among children his age. His Martial Soul was indeed Blue Silver Grass, but he had been born with considerable strength in his body, much more than an ordinary child.

But that strength was utterly useless now.

Bai Yushan's hand was like an iron clamp, not budging an inch.

Tang Wulin gripped that wrist with both hands, pushing, pulling, and prying with every ounce of strength he had, but the hand did not even wobble. Their strength was on entirely different levels, like a tiny kitten trying to move a stone lion.

Bai Yushan looked down at Tang Wulin's struggles, and his grin widened.

He liked this feeling. He liked seeing others utterly powerless to fight back before him, liked this absolute, unquestionable crushing superiority in strength. It made him feel exhilarated, comfortable, as though every pore on his body were venting heat.

"I'm announcing something!"

Bai Yushan spoke again.

This time, every gaze turned toward him.

Fifteen children, fifteen pairs of eyes of various sizes, all turned in unison toward the skinny little boy in the middle of the classroom, with his messy hair and disheveled clothes.

No one dared not look, and no one dared look away. The slap mark on that chubby boy's face was still bright red, like a silent flag telling everyone the price of disobedience.

Until a teacher stepped forward to punish Bai Yushan, until an outside force reestablished order throughout the class, no one in this classroom dared ignore Bai Yushan's commands.

This was authority established with one crisp, resounding slap, rules written in the slap mark on the chubby boy's face and the tears in his eyes.

Bai Yushan reached out with his other hand and patted Tang Wulin's face.

Smack, smack, smack. One after another, not hard, but utterly humiliating.

That hand struck Tang Wulin's fair, tender cheek with crisp sounds, as though patting a lump of dough.

Tang Wulin's head tilted aside with each pat, then bounced back each time. His teeth ground audibly, and tears swirled in his eyes but never fell.

"Have I been giving you too much fucking face?"

Bai Yushan cocked his head at Tang Wulin, his gaze carrying the mockery of a cat toying with a mouse. "I stood up for you, and you dare lecture me? Are you worthy?"

Are you worthy?

Those words were like three needles, stabbing into Tang Wulin's heart one after another. His face went from white to red, from red to purple, flushing scarlet like a boiled shrimp. Although his family was not well-off, the love his parents gave him was whole and abundant. He had grown up in love, grown up in respect, his self-esteem nurtured like a flag flying tall and straight.

Now someone was trampling that flag underfoot. How could he not be furious?

Tang Wulin's eyes reddened. It felt as though a fire were burning in his chest, burning until his whole body felt hot, until his head buzzed. He struggled violently, wanting to break free of the hand gripping his hair, wanting to fight back, wanting to knock down the thug before him.

Seeing this, Bai Yushan swung a backhanded slap at him.

This slap was heavier than the one he had given the chubby boy.

The blow sent Tang Wulin lurching sideways. He lost his balance and fell to the floor with a thud. He lay facedown, a trace of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth, his left cheek burning with pain, his ears buzzing as though a hundred bees were flying beside them.

He braced himself against the floor, trying to get up, but before he had even finished planting his palms, Bai Yushan's voice rang out.

"All right, from now on, this guy is no longer under my protection."

A lightly delivered remark, casual and unconcerned, as ordinary as discussing what the cafeteria was serving for lunch.

The classroom was utterly silent.

All the children stared wide-eyed, their mouths slightly open, their expressions shifting from fear to astonishment, then from astonishment to an even deeper bewilderment. They looked at Tang Wulin lying on the floor, then at Bai Yushan standing before them, their minds a muddle.

One second he had been saying, "Anyone who laughs at Tang Wulin is refusing to give me face," and the next he had knocked him to the ground and announced that he was no longer protecting him.

He changed faces faster than turning the pages of a book, changing his orders from morning to evening as though it were all a game.

What on earth was he trying to do?

Was he helping Tang Wulin or tormenting him?

No one knew the answer.

Perhaps even Bai Yushan himself did not know the answer.

That was simply his way.

He did whatever he pleased, acting on every whim. What he thought one second could be the complete opposite of what he thought the next, without any transition, without any logic, and without needing any reason.

If he thought this was fun, he did it this way. If he thought that was boring, he changed it.

Other people's feelings were not among his considerations, and other people's opinions would not even linger in his mind for more than three-tenths of a second.

He was not a bad person. At least, he did not think he was a bad person. He simply did not care.

He did not care about rules, did not care about order, did not care about how others saw him, did not care about what he himself had said.

Bai Yushan looked at Tang Wulin lying on the floor, scoffed, shook his head, and turned to walk back to his seat. He plopped down, crossed one leg over the other, and turned his gaze back out the window, humming a tuneless little song.

Tang Wulin braced himself against the floor and slowly climbed to his feet.

Tears circled in his eyes several times, but never fell. He bit his lip, swallowing those bitter, aggrieved, furious feelings back down little by little. His left cheek had swollen, the red handprint standing out clearly against his fair skin, like an ink stain splashed onto a beautiful painting, shocking to behold.

He sat back down in his seat.

He sat ramrod straight, his hands resting neatly on his knees, his expression so calm that he hardly seemed like a six-year-old child who had just been beaten. That endurance and restraint, so out of keeping with his age, inexplicably made the skin of the few children who noticed him crawl.

Inside his body, something scalding surged, and a glint of golden ferocity flashed through his large, pitch-black eyes as he stared straight at the back of Bai Yushan's head.