Chapter 37: Your Wife Knows You’re Under Pressure

It took quite some effort to persuade my little brother; otherwise, he would have insisted I punch him, goodness gracious.

When we returned home, Dongmen Meng had already prepared dinner and was waiting for the children to come back. Ye Qin hurriedly recounted the day’s events to their parents, wearing an expression as if the story were about himself.

Ye Ming and Dongmen Meng were equally baffled, thinking this must be the effect of the elixir.

Apparently, even Ye Qin’s explanation was starting to convince their parents.

Even Ye Kun found himself half-believing it. Could it really be the elixir’s effect? Tonight, after his little brother fell asleep, he would have to experiment and find out the truth!

At the Swordbook Pavilion.

“I say, you martial maniac of East Nether, why do you like coming here to drink with me? Look at how good your wife was to you—she knew you were under pressure, so she ran off with someone else.” The owner of the Swordbook Pavilion rested his chin on his hands, looking at the drowsy martial maniac, and couldn’t help but poke fun at him.

The Martial Maniac of East Nether was a renowned figure, known for his obsession with cultivation, which is why he was called the Martial Maniac of East Nether. Even his wife couldn’t stand it and ran off…

“You, Baotao the Sword Thief, are nothing special either. I heard you were swindled by two kids recently. But after seeing that child today, I have to admit, he’s truly outstanding. It’s no wonder you got played.” Wu Chi said drunkenly, the corners of his mouth curled into a smile. Ever since learning that his wife, unable to bear his stress, had left him for another, he had fallen into the habit of drinking himself insensible every night.

“Get out, you old drunk! I let you stay here to drink and vent, and this is how you repay me?” The owner put his hands on his hips, ready for a shouting match.

“We’re all down-and-outers under the same sky, why hurt each other? Let’s have a drink to ease our sorrows,” Wu Chi grinned foolishly. It was hard to believe he had once been a stern, humorless man.

The owner was offended. “Who’s a down-and-outer? My life’s just fine! No one knows Baotao the Sword Thief is here, not even my enemies. I’m perfectly happy!”

Just as his words fell, a man dressed in black crashed down from above, breaking through the roof. He shouted coldly, “Baotao the Sword Thief! Today is the day you die!”

The owner stared dumbfounded at the black-clad man.

Wu Chi looked left and right, and then, with a sudden spurt, sprayed all the wine in his mouth onto the owner’s face.

“Hahaha! You’re killing me! You really do have a knack for bragging, Baotao. Trouble always comes knocking when you boast.”

The owner’s gaze grew icy, and even the black-clad man began to feel uneasy. Had he said something wrong? Was there something else he should have said to start with? Why were they looking at him that way?

“I am Dongxian, elder of the Nine Palaces Pavilion! Today I’m here to destroy the infamous Baotao the Sword Thief!” Dongxian was dressed in a black robe that covered even his face—the signature attire of the Nine Palaces Pavilion, especially that distinctive sword at his side.

Wu Chi staggered to his feet and turned to the owner. “Looks like you’ve got business to handle. I’ll take my leave.” He even cupped his hands at Dongxian. “Sorry to disturb.”

“Get lost, drunkard! Mind your wife doesn’t run off with someone else!”

Pffft!

Now it was the owner’s turn to burst out laughing, all traces of murderous intent gone as he slapped his thigh in delight. He loved people who weren’t afraid of death and who weren’t shy about poking at sore spots.

Wu Chi stopped in his tracks, looked at Dongxian, and crushed his wine jug in his hand.

“What did you just say?”

Dongxian snorted, flicked his robe, and said sternly, “Drunkard! Hurry up and get out!”

“Haha, do you even know who he is?” The owner was laughing so hard he nearly collapsed, wiping tears from his eyes. “It’s one thing if I poke fun at him, but you? Are you looking for death?”

“A nobody,” Dongxian replied.

“So, in your eyes, the Martial Maniac of East Nether is a nobody?” The owner laughed, tears streaming down his face.

“The Martial Maniac of East Nether!” Dongxian exclaimed in shock, staring at the drunken man before him, unable to believe this was once the dignified Martial Maniac of East Nether!

So Dongxian blurted out, “You’re the one whose wife ran off with someone else!”

The owner froze for a moment, then collapsed in laughter, pounding the floor with his fists.

“I’m sorry... I didn’t mean it that way, it’s just what people say outside...” Dongxian panicked, never expecting to run into both of them here. The two together were completely out of his league!

Bang!

Dongxian left the way he had come—in a flash, vanishing into the dark night, which seemed to glimmer briefly.

Wu Chi asked quietly, “That’s what people are saying outside?”

“Uh... I didn’t spread the rumor.”

“Baotao the Sword Thief! I’ll have your blood today!”

“Damn it! It really wasn’t me!”

At the Ye residence.

A small figure crouched in the backyard, a fire burning in front.

The figure was, of course, Ye Kun. Taking advantage of his little brother’s sleep, he hurried out to experiment.

From the look of things, Ye Kun was planning to use fire.

However, Ye Kun was still uncertain—what if it wasn’t the elixir? The consequences would be disastrous!

Thud! A muffled sound rang out suddenly, startling Ye Kun. He turned to look and saw only flowers and grass. It nearly scared him to death; he thought someone was spying on him.

But in the flowerbed, Dongxian lay with blood at his lips and a black sword stuck in his belly.

Dongxian was utterly bewildered—how had his own sword ended up in his stomach? Recalling what happened in the air, it all came back to him instantly.

He’d been punched skyward by the Martial Maniac of East Nether; his sword slipped from its sheath, and as he fell to the ground, it landed right into his abdomen…

Damn it! Dongxian, an elder of the Nine Palaces Pavilion, renowned for his strength—how could he be so unlucky?

In truth, Dongxian had come alone to seize the sword technique for himself, thinking he might get lucky and soar to new heights.

But things hadn’t gone at all as he imagined.

His luck was abysmal.

Dongxian felt as if his organs had shifted, his jaw was shattered, and he feared his end was near. He lifted his head with effort…

Staring death in the face, Dongxian was stupefied. The child before him was roasting his own hand! Such ruthlessness!

Dongxian had traversed East Nether for centuries and seen many fierce people, but never someone so young and so ruthless.

If he weren’t grievously injured, he would have wanted to take this child as a disciple. Dongxian admired students just like this.

Ye Kun, unaware that anyone was watching, continued roasting his own arm, his expression twisted with distress.

Because he only felt warmth—no pain, no abnormal sensation. This could only mean one thing!

It wasn’t the effect of the elixir at all, but something intrinsic to his own body!

Why? Oh, heavens! Why must you treat me this way? Please, take my divine power away!