Chapter 29: The Man Who Fights with Words

Xiaojunping stood up, placed the money for the meal on the table, and said,

"Hey, waiter, it's too cramped in here, let's go outside. And the owner—"

"Yes."

"The noodles were unexpectedly good. I'll come again."

The leader of the restaurant, still holed up in the kitchen, replied,

"Oh, come whenever you like."

Xiaojunping left Chunyang Restaurant with a leisurely attitude. Zhang Deshu, who had been hiding, finally poked his head out and asked me,

"Zha, what are you going to do? Will it be okay? His eyes looked really dangerous."

"Why did you make a joke to a customer with such a dangerous look in his eyes?"

"I was nervous, and my words came out wrong."

"What did you say?"

"I said the knife looks strange, it must be from Naman."

"The knife is indeed from Naman."

"Damn."

Naman referred to the barbarians living in the south, and if the person was really from the south, Zhang Deshu's words could have been a mortal insult.

Zhang Deshu unknowingly gripped the pot lid tightly with both hands.

I said,

"Just in case, hold onto that tightly."

Zhang Deshu nodded repeatedly.

"Got it. Don't die."

"That won't happen. Oh, can you bring me a kitchen knife from the kitchen?"

"Why a kitchen knife?"

"I didn't bring my weapons. It's better than nothing."

Zhang Deshu hurriedly took out a large kitchen knife and handed it to me.

"Here."

I grabbed the large kitchen knife and said to Zhang Deshu,

"See you in a bit."

"Can I watch?"

I pointed to the pot lid and said,

"Don't come out, just watch while holding that tightly."

"Got it."

* * *

Facing Xiaojunping, who was in his early twenties and known as the 'Three Hundred Jiazi,' in my hometown brought back a flood of memories.

Xiaojunping would eventually become a well-known figure in the underworld, but he never reached the level of infamy I did.

I suddenly thought,

At least the high and low-ranking martial artists in the villages surrounding Yiliang County couldn't kill me. It seemed that only those who had made a name for themselves in the world would make me nervous.

This wasn't about internal strength or martial arts skills.

It was about whether one had experienced the vast world.

At this point, the leader of the Black Cat Gang was just a young man who fought fiercely with his fellow apprentices. By my standards, he was still a novice. And the Three Hundred Jiazi, known for his tenacity, was still a subordinate to such a novice.

In short, he was an unqualified opponent.

But how fair was this?

Xiaojunping and I were facing each other, both considering the other a novice.

I asked Xiaojunping,

"By the way, Junping, why did you come alone without any subordinates? Were you betrayed?"

Xiaojunping, who had maintained a relaxed expression, now grimaced.

"Do you think it's necessary to bring a noisy crowd to deal with a waiter? And don't call me by my name as if we're close. It's embarrassing..."

"Are you ashamed to fight me?"

"Shut up."

"Isn't it a strength of the underworld to attack in groups? From the look on your face, it seems you were betrayed."

"I don't understand why a village waiter is so arrogant."

"I don't understand why a third-rate underworld figure is so confident."

Xiaojunping drew his weapon, the Yalaide (Night Knife).

I recognized his weapon.

The Yalaide is a deformed sword with a narrow blade and an exaggerated curve. It was made in Naman and later became a famous treasure sword due to its owner's tenacity. This sword must have saved Xiaojunping's life many times.

Xiaojunping, seeing that I was holding a kitchen knife, asked,

"What are you planning to do with that?"

I sniffed the kitchen knife.

"It still smells of garlic. I'll show you that when garlic seeps into a wound, it causes excruciating pain. It will be scorching hot."

Xiaojunping couldn't help but laugh. His Yalaide could cut through tofu.

I warned him with a confident expression,

"Remember this. A third-rate underworld man, if you touch a waiter, you'll face a kitchen knife that smells of garlic."

Xiaojunping, with a tight-lipped and expressionless face, closed the distance.

* * *

The Yalaide is a sharp and sturdy sword, making the kitchen knife clearly at a disadvantage.

If the kitchen knife were to clash with his sword a few times, the blade would be completely damaged. I could overcome this with internal strength, but it would be inefficient.

Therefore, I didn't recklessly extend the kitchen knife. I maintained my distance, observing Xiaojunping's movements and only using footwork.

Of course, the Yalaide didn't touch my body.

No matter what tricks he used, how many feints he made, or how powerful his strikes were, I could easily dodge them.

This was due to my experience and insight, which were the same as when I was known as the Devil of Light.

Xiaojunping and I had a significant difference in practical combat experience.

However, his fighting style was quite impressive.

Perhaps because he was in a similar young phase as I once was, he was full of determination.

But if he were smart, he should have realized something from the fact that I only dodged and didn't attack.

After a while of one-sided attacks, Xiaojunping's expression gradually hardened, and his murderous intent and determination seemed to be suppressed by a cold rationality.

'He's perceptive.'

I was reading his psychological state and the changes in the atmosphere. After a while of frenzied attacks, Xiaojunping stopped on his own.

"Who are you? How do you know all my movements?"

"I'm a waiter."

"Shut up! Waiter brat. That's not what I'm asking. Are you one of the Twelve Generals, like the leader of the gang?"

"You ask and then tell me to shut up? You're out of your mind. Just understand that you're a nobody in this matter."

"I'm a nobody?"

"You've learned the cheap martial arts that slaves of the underworld learn."

"Slaves of the underworld?"

"The techniques you use are not proper sword techniques or normal footwork. You're just dancing with a sword based on your experience."

Xiaojunping had never heard such words in his life. But the expression was a bit strange.

Slaves of the underworld?

Xiaojunping asked,

"Why are my sword techniques the martial arts of slaves?"

The idea that the Twelve Generals and their entire force were slaves of the Great Temple had been with me since my previous life.

"Actually, the term 'slave' is too generous. You are not a normal underworld figure. You are all puppets, pawns, fighting cocks, playthings, and cleanup crews of the Great Temple. You are a fanatical group that provides funds and women to the Great Temple, and licks the Great Temple's ass..."

"Shut up!"

"Look at the Twelve Generals, the disciples of the Great Temple. They wear those ridiculous masks, kill who they are told to kill, practice when told to practice, take charge of a sect when told to, and compete in martial arts to determine their ranks for the Great Temple's entertainment. They flatter the Great Temple by offering money and women. You are a low-level slave, a bottom-of-the-barrel slave, a useless underworld figure, a slave rabbit when alive, and a discarded slave when no longer useful. You think you're something, but you can't even defeat a waiter. You're a fool."

Xiaojunping's eyes turned red as if he had been hit by a storm of insults. For a moment, his internal strength seemed to waver, and his legs felt weak.

"..."

"Why? Did you think you were a cool underworld figure?"

I verbally assaulted Xiaojunping before physically attacking him.

"There's no need to feel too wronged. The old pervert of the Great Temple will die by my hands eventually."

At this moment, Zhang Deshu, who had been watching, couldn't help but exclaim,

"Quite a verbal assault."

Xiaojunping, with his sharp hearing, looked in Zhang Deshu's direction.

Zhang Deshu, startled, raised the pot lid, but fortunately, Xiaojunping didn't attack.

Xiaojunping's mind was filled with the words 'slave,' 'puppet,' 'pawn,' 'fighting cock,' and 'plaything.' It was the first time in his life that he felt so confused by someone's words.

Xiaojunping, who had been taking deep breaths due to his excitement, glared at me and said,

"Keep talking."

This guy, huh?

I am a man who can verbally assault someone until they spit blood.

I smiled.

"The Twelve Generals, who are the leaders, are said to learn more martial arts from the Great Temple if they rank first in the competition. But what's the point of learning that? Aren't you just learning martial arts like scraps? The Great Temple is just one of many high-level martial artists. Is the Great Temple the best in the underworld? No way. And the Great Temple, with its narrow-minded personality, is willing to teach you their techniques. You are just the Great Temple's lackeys and playthings. I repeat, you are a slave of a slave. A pitiful life, indeed."

"Is that all you have to say? If you're so great, you won't just dodge. Let's settle this for sure."

Xiaojunping, regaining his breath, announced his next attack. I replied,

"Junping, a righteous man doesn't live like a slave. You need to be beaten to come to your senses."

I raised the rectangular kitchen knife given to me by Zhang Deshu and infused it with the internal strength of the Flame Technique.

The kitchen knife, enveloped in the Flame Technique, turned red.

Whoosh!

The kitchen knife, which was only slightly larger than a palm, turned a reddish color, and a red flame-like aura rose like mist.

The results of my long-term practice of the Flame Technique were first evident in the kitchen knife.

Xiaojunping, who was about to launch a preemptive attack, looked at the red-hot kitchen knife with surprise.

The red light emanating from the short kitchen knife formed the shape of a long sword. Xiaojunping immediately realized he couldn't win.

But his pride wouldn't let him back down.

I said to Xiaojunping,

"Do I still look like a fool to you? Get down on your knees and surrender, or you'll get a beating. Slave rabbit."

I wrapped the kitchen knife with the Flame Technique's special skill, the Flame Fragrance.

Its official name is Flame Fragrance, but I call it 'the taste of fire.' It refers to the subtle taste of fire that permeates stir-fried rice.

To those who don't know martial arts, my stance and appearance might seem funny, as I held the kitchen knife high in my right hand.

But I can assure you, this stance won't be funny to Xiaojunping.

Xiaojunping's forehead veins bulged when he heard me tell him to kneel.

What kind of underworld man would kneel to a young waiter?

Xiaojunping, thinking he would die in the fight, poured his greatest power into his Yalaide and swung it at me.

A murky mist enveloped the Yalaide and rushed towards me.

It was a fierce sword wind.

'Not bad for a nobody.'

He definitely had the momentum.

I threw the kitchen knife, wrapped in Flame Fragrance, towards the incoming sword wind. The ordinary kitchen knife tore through the sword wind, making a terrifying sound.

Was the sound of the kitchen knife, like a roar, a reflection of the anger of my past life as a waiter?