Chapter 4387 — Are You an Idiot?
The Blossom Guardian · Page 1 of 2
"Oh-ho? Getting cocky now, are we?" The scarred man laughed instead of taking offense, and the scar slashed across his face grew all the more savage and hideous. Leaning in closer, he sneered, "You won't take the gentle cup, so you'll drink the bitter one. You brought this on yourself, boy—don't blame me for having no mercy!"
With that, the scarred man shot out a hand to grab at Wei Zhao, ready to search him on the spot, while the rest of the dungeon crowd looked on coldly, and quite a few were even gloating over his misfortune.
When they had first been dragged in here, they too had suffered this same miserable treatment. Now, watching someone follow in their footsteps, they felt not a shred of fellow feeling—on the contrary, they thought it only right. If Wei Zhao weren't bullied by the scarred man, they would have felt it unfair.
From beginning to end, not a single person favored Wei Zhao. The scarred man was an expert of the mid-Nascent Soul stage, and though this newcomer had yet to reveal his strength, by any measure he did not look like the scarred man's match.
This was not pure contempt for Wei Zhao. The saying "judge by appearances" may carry a pejorative ring, but in truth it often holds good—after all, as the old saying goes, the face reflects the heart.
In the world of cultivation, if a person has practiced exquisite and profound techniques of mind and martial skill, his features and bearing will naturally change with them. Anyone who looked as crude and boorish as Wei Zhao was bound to be the sort whose cultivation fell short—and such people were generally none too strong.
Even Lu Bianren was thoroughly unimpressed with Wei Zhao. A wise man does not eat a loss before his eyes; since his strength fell short, he would do better to play the fool for now and store up his power. To brazen it out at a moment like this could be summed up in one word: foolish.
Yet what happened next made every jaw in the dungeon drop—even Lu Bianren needed a long moment before he could collect himself.
Without the slightest warning, Wei Zhao lashed the scarred man across the face with a Frenzied Fire Eight-Trigram Palm. The scarred man had expected this fellow to be a thorn in his side and had been on guard against a strike, but when the moment came he found he had no time to react at all. One palm strike sent this proud mid-Nascent Soul expert spinning three full circles on the spot, utterly dazed.
Then, before the scarred man could recover his senses, Wei Zhao lifted a leg and drove a Frenzied Fire Thousand-Leg strike squarely into the center of his back.
Boom! With a thunderous crash, the scarred man was slammed spread-eagled against the wall, and the whole dungeon shook violently. Had it not been reinforced by protective formations, the entire place might well have come crashing down.
A dead silence fell over the crowd. Every mouth hung open, and for a long while no one could utter a word; only the ebb and flow of sharp indrawn breaths gave voice to what they were all feeling.
They had been locked in this dungeon not for a day or two but for several months at least, and had long since grown used to the scarred man's bullying. Strength ruled, and the fist was king; the scarred man was the strongest, so naturally this place was his to command, and no one could defy him.
Of course, there had been exceptions before. There were always hot-blooded men who refused to submit so meekly, but their fates were all the same. Whoever dared to resist ended up beaten half to death by the scarred man, and after that never dared so much as breathe a word—while the two guards outside paid it no mind at all, which only fed the scarred man's arrogance.
Who could ever have imagined that such a scene would unfold today? The scarred man had kicked a steel plate and wound up drawing his own blood!