Chapter 87: Reprimand
Master Chen stormed in, face dark with fury. Not a single disciple dared to breathe too loudly.
"Why the silence now?"
Everyone exchanged nervous glances, grumbling inwardly: Because, Master, you started swinging before we could even open our mouths!
They all turned to Dazhu, who swallowed hard and stepped forward.
"Master, it's… it's not our fault this time."
"Not your fault? Then whose? Mine? Was I the one brawling in the streets?"
"It was them who started it!" Dazhu muttered.
"Yes, Master! They went too far!" the other disciples quickly echoed.
Master Chen gave a cold snort. "Oh? They went too far, so you all became saints in this story? Even if they were in the wrong—did you have to beat them half to death? If the Dao Court Division had detained you, would I have to grovel and beg to get you released? And if someone was seriously injured, should I pay compensation in spirit stones?"
The more he spoke, the angrier he became. "Spirit stones, do you think they fall from the sky? How did I end up with such a bunch of wastrels? You've learned more about causing trouble than refining artifacts!"
"Master, we only fought because Mo Hua was being bullied!"
"Mo Hua being bullied? So what? Who hasn't been bullied before? If everyone fought back every time they were offended, there'd be corpses littering the streets! Looks like you all won't learn your lesson without a good beating—"
He raised his stick, ready to strike, but suddenly paused and frowned.
"Wait. Who was bullied again?"
"Mo Hua…" Dazhu said meekly, ducking his head.
"Mo Hua?"
Master Chen pictured the little boy—ten years old, well-behaved, polite, harmless. His brows knitted in confusion.
"Who in their right mind would bully that child?"
Dazhu hurriedly explained, "It wasn't just bullying, Master! They were really trying to hurt him. Their strike went straight for his forehead—so I stepped in!"
Master Chen's face darkened again. "Trying to kill him? Outrageous!"
"Yes! Exactly!"
"Too much!"
"Shameless!"
"…"
"Quiet!" Master Chen barked.
He didn't know the full story. He'd just finished work, gone to grab a drink, barely sat down when someone ran in saying Dazhu and the others were fighting again. Not only fighting—causing such a ruckus that the Dao Court Division was alerted.
His blood had boiled instantly, and he'd stormed back to find them.
"Who bullied Mo Hua?" he demanded.
"Qian Xing."
"Qian Xing? The young master from the Qian family?"
"Yes."
"Do you know why?"
Dazhu shook his head.
Master Chen frowned deeply. What conflict could there possibly be between the Qian family and Mo Hua? They were worlds apart.
But that brat Qian Xing…
He'd heard the boy was no good—spoiled, arrogant, and fond of throwing his weight around. It was entirely believable he'd bully someone just to prove he could.
Master Chen muttered under his breath, "Little bastard…"
The Qian family patriarch, Qian Hong, wasn't exactly virtuous, but at least he knew restraint. How did he end up with such a rotten seed?
Could it be… an illegitimate one?
Even Master Chen found himself wondering.
Dazhu, sensing his master's anger was fading, asked cautiously, "So… Master, are you still going to beat us?"
Master Chen shot him a glare. "Why? You want a beating?"
Dazhu shook his head frantically. "No, no, not at all!"
Master Chen tossed the stick aside but said sternly, "Helping others is good, but don't tell me the fight escalated by itself. You lot probably got carried away halfway through and forgot yourselves, didn't you?"
He knew his disciples too well—if they'd only wanted to help, they would've stopped once Mo Hua was safe. Clearly, someone said something that hit a nerve, and fists flew faster than reason.
Thankfully, no one had suffered serious injuries; otherwise, just the healing pills alone would've cost a small fortune. For ordinary rogue cultivators, that kind of debt was a heavy chain.
Having passion was good—but passion couldn't pay for medicine.
Master Chen sighed. Still, right and wrong had to be made clear.
He looked at his disciples with a mix of worry and pride.
"The cause was just, so I won't punish you further. Helping others is right, but avoid unnecessary bloodshed. Don't make your parents worry. No beatings today—but kneel for an hour and reflect before going home."
The group collectively exhaled in relief. Kneeling was nothing—as long as they weren't beaten. Besides, their master clearly wasn't truly angry. It was just a token punishment.
Their hearts lightened. Even while kneeling, their backs straightened proudly.
Then Dazhu suddenly recalled something.
"Master, Mo Hua said… since we helped him, if we ever need formation diagrams, we can just go to him. As long as it's not too difficult, he'll draw them for us himself."
"Oh."
Master Chen nodded absentmindedly, started to leave, then stopped and turned back sharply.
"…What did you say?"
Dazhu blinked. "Mo Hua said..."
He repeated it word for word.
"Mo Hua really said that?" Master Chen asked again.
Dazhu nodded. The others chimed in, "He did, Master!"
Master Chen's hands twitched. After a long inner struggle, he rubbed them together, muttering, "Well… since you helped him, and he helps us by drawing formations… that's fair, right?"
Dazhu thought for a moment. "Mo Hua said it's just mutual aid between rogue cultivators—not taking advantage."
"That's true!"
Master Chen finally broke into a grin, then quickly straightened his face, pretending sternness, though the corners of his mouth refused to cooperate.
With formation diagrams now handled, they could save a large amount of spirit stones. The forge could be repaired, better iron purchased, and maybe—just maybe—his apprentices could finally eat a few bowls more at dinner.
A great weight lifted off his shoulders. He felt almost limber again.
"What a good child…" Master Chen said warmly, then turned to his disciples. "Mo Hua may be young, but he's talented and hardworking. Him offering to draw for us is a blessing. If his family ever faces hardship, you lot must lend a hand, got it?"
"Yes, Master!" the apprentices chorused.
"Good. Now go."
"Yes!" Dazhu started to leave, then hesitated. "Uh… Master, do we still have to kneel?"
Master Chen let out a half-laugh, half-sigh. "Kneel? Kneel my foot! Get out of here!"
"Yes, Master!"
The disciples cheered and bolted out like a flock of startled birds.
Watching them go, Master Chen shook his head with a smile. "A bunch of fools… wonder when they'll ever grow up."
He'd returned home fuming, but now his heart was light. Thinking maybe he'd have another drink, he took a few steps, then suddenly froze.
"Ah, damn, I forgot to ask—how's the Qian family's side of things?"
Though Qian Xing was a brat, it'd still be a problem if something serious had happened to him.
But then he thought it over. The Qian clan was powerful, with plenty of guards. There was no way they'd truly suffer. It was just a fight between Qi-Refining kids—maybe some bruises, nothing fatal. If something had happened, these disciples of his wouldn't be standing here so calmly.
Reassured, Master Chen dusted off his robe and happily went off in search of more wine.
(End of Chapter)