Chapter Thirteen: Strike at His Most Vulnerable Point!
“Divine Awakening Soup?”
Inside the canteen, the server auntie’s words made Fang Can pause for a moment. “What is Divine Awakening Soup?”
“It’s this,” the auntie said with a smile, pushing a wooden bowl in front of Fang Can.
Fang Can looked the bowl over carefully. The wooden bowl contained a pure white liquid, resembling milk, brimming to the top. He reached out and touched the outside of the bowl—it was still cool.
“Sister, what is this Divine Awakening Soup made of? Why does it feel cold?”
Fang Can looked up politely and smiled, but his expression froze the moment he saw what the auntie took out.
“It’s mushroom,” the auntie said kindly, holding a vividly red mushroom in her hand.
“Instructor Yang just told a few of us to crush this mushroom fresh and mix it into cold water. He said if you disciples of the Martial Hall drink this Divine Awakening Soup and combine it with the Roleplay Technique, your cultivation speed will increase by more than double.”
As she spoke, the auntie gave Fang Can a warm, aunt-like smile. “You look kind-hearted, young one. For newcomers in their first month, meals are on the house. Drink plenty of Divine Awakening Soup, and after a month, you’ll surely be able to stay in the Martial Hall.”
“Well... thank you, sister,” Fang Can forced a smile, his eyes catching the baskets of red mushrooms behind the auntie.
“I’ll pass. Leave the Divine Awakening Soup for the other brothers. Just give me the same meal as yesterday,” he said.
“Oh, alright.” The auntie sighed softly, unwilling to force him.
Giving Fang Can a look of mild reproach, she turned and served him a portion of rice with stir-fried pork and flat beans.
“Thank you, sister,” Fang Can said gratefully and quickly slipped away with his bowl, still feeling uneasy. He was glad he had asked.
“No wonder this ancient gang is so ruthless—they even put mushrooms straight into the canteen menu. It’s terrifying.”
Fang Can settled into a corner, shoveling his food while observing the serving window.
Sure enough, before long another disciple came to get food and, chatting briefly with the auntie, left happily carrying a bowl of Divine Awakening Soup. Then another, then a third, a fourth.
Watching anxiously as one disciple after another carried away their bowls of Divine Awakening Soup, Fang Can was speechless, silently admitting: these ancient gangs really played rough.
If these people had access to modern technology, they might even resort to injecting substances directly to improve their martial arts.
Feeling a lingering fear of being trapped in a den of thieves, Fang Can instinctively ate faster, planning to finish lunch and practice a few more sets afterwards.
---
But as he ate, trouble found him.
Fang Can continued to shovel food into his mouth indifferently as three fellow disciples sat down beside him.
One was the abstract-looking disciple he had seen before in the Martial Hall—the one who used the Roleplay Technique to simulate a proposal.
“You look unfamiliar, new here since yesterday?” the abstract youth tried to strike up conversation, but Fang Can ignored him completely.
He understood their intentions—just the usual monthly pocket money business.
That morning, when he agreed to let the polite senior slap him, he’d learned some information about life after joining.
For example, newcomers get meals fully provided for the first month. After that, besides the three fixed basic meals a day, any extra food must be paid for out of pocket.
The monthly stipend barely covered basic needs. Under these circumstances, it was natural some would get greedy.
After all, this was a gang. Borrowing some internal funds to spend a little was no big deal.
The senior also said there was a one-month newbie protection period during which new disciples couldn’t be attacked. Afterward, normal sparring was allowed.
Knowing these people would never dare attack him right now, Fang Can didn’t even bother responding. He kept eating heartily.
From afar, some disciples watched with teasing looks, whispering among themselves: “Li Qunfan and the others are borrowing money again. I wonder if this newbie can handle the pressure.”
“I doubt it. Even if we can’t hit him this first month, what about after?”
“Wanna bet? I’ll wager fifty copper coins that kid won’t last.”
...
Ignoring the already placed bets over there, Fang Can remained silent. Li Qunfan suddenly exploded in anger.
“Kid, is that how you treat your seniors?”
Fang Can: ...
“Don’t think you can just hide like a turtle and get away with it. Just wait until a month from now—I’ll challenge you to a duel.”
Fang Can: ...
“Are you mute? Or just naturally unable to speak? With your aptitude, you probably can’t even generate energy. When you become a servant, remember to bring me my foot bath water.”
---
Inside the dining hall, Fang Can calmly continued eating, while Li Qunfan and his companions, bound by the rules, dared not attack physically and resorted to verbal insults.
The spectators knew all too well that verbal abuse could be more brutal than physical strikes.
Planting seeds of doubt in one’s heart could cut cultivation efficiency in half, causing even talented people to fail to awaken energy within a month.
The three surrounded Fang Can, persistently hurling insults.
Yet after two whole minutes, with Fang Can’s plate nearly empty, he hadn’t responded once.
Swallowing the last mouthful, he slowly looked up and spoke to Li Qunfan for the first time: “Do you know something?”
The three, who had been ready to give up their loan attempt, froze. Li Qunfan smiled, thinking the kid had finally broken.
Looking at Li Qunfan, Fang Can recalled his performance in the Martial Hall and said coldly, “She never loved you.”
“What did you say?!”
That whispered sentence shattered Li Qunfan’s defenses more thoroughly than any previous attack.
His eyes bloodshot with rage, he almost wanted to kill the boy who dared lie to him on the spot.
But in an instant, he shook his head in denial: “Impossible. Xiaofang definitely loves me. You’re lying. Yes, you’re lying. Once I become the Hall Leader—no, the Manager—she’ll be with me.”
Fang Can said nothing, only pursed his lips and drawled, “Eh~ finally speaking from the heart. I only say it when someone’s angry.”
“You little brat.”
In a flash, Li Qunfan’s Roleplay Technique shattered, and he clenched his fists, ready to charge. But two lackeys behind restrained him.
“Don’t fight, Brother Li. Don’t fight, that’s against the rules,” the men held his arms back.
At that moment, a pale fist slammed hard into Li Qunfan’s face, followed by a mocking voice.
“Clown, the rules say you can’t hit me, but they don’t say I can’t hit you.”