Chapter 15: Once Healed, the Pain Is Forgotten

The seventh day.

The iron door creaked open.

A few slivers of blinding sunlight made Xiao Yang squint in discomfort.

“All right, you can come out now.”

The thin steward looked at Xiao Yang with a peculiar expression. To survive seven days in the Den of Ten Thousand Insects—this was truly unprecedented. Yet, they all knew well enough: Xiao Yang’s feat was not due to strength, but sheer luck. For reasons unknown, all the poisonous insects in the den had vanished overnight, leaving this widely ridiculed good-for-nothing alive by sheer chance.

Ignoring the two men, Xiao Yang strode straight toward the exit. Feeling the warmth of sunlight, he could not help but stretch lazily, letting out a comfortable sigh.

“Ah! Sunbathing really feels good.”

At that moment, several hundred people stood outside the Den of Ten Thousand Insects, all there to see Xiao Yang—the man who had survived inside for seven days. Their motives were simple: they wanted to lay eyes on him for themselves.

“Heh! Just a stroke of dumb luck, nothing more,” a young man scoffed, evidently having heard about the strange occurrence in the den—the poisonous insects had all dispersed, leaving only an empty cave.

Yet Xiao Yang couldn’t be bothered with such people. He turned to the two stewards behind him and asked, “Can I leave now?”

The seven days inside hadn’t been too harsh, except for the stifling boredom. Not a soul to talk to. Seven days of silence nearly drove him mad. Thank goodness they let him out at last.

“According to the rules, Senior Brother Xiao is free to go,” the thin steward announced, and hurried off.

Xiao Yang was ready to return to his small tile-roofed hut for a much-needed sleep. Though the poisonous insects were gone, the cave’s dampness was something he could never grow used to.

He was just about to leave when three figures approached, blocking his path.

Xiao Yang’s brows knitted with annoyance and a hint of surprise. The leader of the trio was Zhang Yong—a face he remembered all too well, for he had personally crippled both the man’s arms. Yet now, Zhang Yong appeared fully recovered.

Upon seeing Xiao Yang, Zhang Yong struggled to contain his rage. If not for the two companions at his side signaling him to hold back—reminding him that there were too many eyes around—he would have lunged at Xiao Yang already.

“You useless wretch, we meet again,” Zhang Yong spat.

Xiao Yang shot him a glance, then grinned, teasing, “Hey, little brother, you’ve healed up well! Back to causing trouble already?” As he spoke, he reached out and patted Zhang Yong on the shoulder.

This gesture lit Zhang Yong’s fury ablaze. He could endure no more; he raised his fist, aiming to strike.

“Looking for death, are you, you useless fool!”

Seeing Zhang Yong lash out, Xiao Yang smirked mischievously, deliberately goading him, “You really do forget pain once the scars have healed.”

With that, Xiao Yang blocked the oncoming punch with ease.

“You started this. Now, I’m going to fight back,” he remarked coolly.

Realizing his predicament, Zhang Yong barked at his two companions, “Get him! I’ll take responsibility for whatever happens!”

The two exchanged glances, knowing they had no choice but to join in.

“Kill!” they shouted, splitting left and right, encircling Xiao Yang.

“Martial Artists?” Xiao Yang sensed with ease the presence of inner energy—a clear sign of their status.

Whoosh!

A fist shot toward him at lightning speed. Xiao Yang sidestepped lightly and used his arm to pull Zhang Yong off balance. The other attacker’s face changed instantly; he tried to withdraw his punch, but lacked the skill to do so in time.

Bang!

The fist landed—not on Xiao Yang, but squarely on Zhang Yong.

“Are you blind, damn it!” Zhang Yong howled, cursing as he was struck by his own man.

“Sorry, Young Master Zhang, I couldn’t pull back in time,” the man muttered, shooting Xiao Yang a resentful glare. If not for that sudden jerk, he wouldn’t have hit Zhang Yong.

Whoosh!

Suddenly, a gust of wind came from behind—another sneak attack. But Xiao Yang was prepared. He crouched, yanking Zhang Yong yet again.

A sense of foreboding seized Zhang Yong; he turned his head just in time to see a large foot rapidly approaching.

Bang!

“Ugh!” A nasal grunt of pain escaped him as a foot slammed into his face, blood instantly spurting from his nose.

The would-be ambusher was left dumbfounded—he hadn’t expected Xiao Yang to sense the attack from behind.

Xiao Yang stood up, laughter barely restrained. “Damn, hahaha! That’s quite the look you have now!”

Zhang Yong’s face darkened, humiliation burning hotly. He had brought these people to teach Xiao Yang a lesson, yet ended up getting beaten himself. His face stung, especially from that particularly ruthless kick. The other two attackers dared not continue—Xiao Yang was simply too unpredictable. If they fought any longer, they’d end up killing Zhang Yong before harming Xiao Yang, and Zhang Long would never forgive them.

Noticing the pair’s hesitation, Xiao Yang arched an eyebrow. “Are you going to try again or not?” he called out.

At these words, Zhang Yong quickly shouted, “No, no, Senior Brother Xiao, I was just joking with you.” Forcing a weak smile, he begged for mercy. “Yes, yes, I was only joking. Don’t take it to heart,” Xiao Yang replied, trying not to laugh at the shoe print visible on Zhang Yong’s face.

“Fine, fine,” Zhang Yong stammered, on the verge of tears. “Senior Brother Xiao, may I leave now?”

Xiao Yang released him, gesturing for him to go as he pleased. Zhang Yong slunk away, head hanging low to hide his face from the crowd.

But just as he broke free, a figure stepped into his path.

Zhou Yan, radiating a faint murderous aura, blocked his way. She knew well that Xiao Yang’s punishment was all because of the man before her, so she held nothing but contempt for him.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

Zhang Yong recognized her at once—the daughter of the Third Elder, not someone he could afford to offend. He lowered his head and replied softly, “I’m just passing by, Senior Sister.”

Zhou Yan didn’t believe him. “Hmph! Let me warn you—if you dare trouble my senior brother again, I’ll make you wish you were dead.” As she spoke, she released a subtle pressure of inner energy, making Zhang Yong tremble.

“I wouldn’t dare! I wouldn’t dare,” he stammered.

Only then did Zhou Yan withdraw her pressure, but noticed Zhang Yong kept his head down, arousing her suspicion.

She ordered coldly, “Raise your head. Let me see your face.”

Zhang Yong shuddered. “I…” He stammered, unable to comply.

Zhou Yan’s patience wore thin. “Raise your head!” she commanded sharply.

Zhang Yong glanced at his two companions for help, but they, seeing Zhou Yan, cowered like mice before a cat.

With a heavy heart, Zhang Yong realized his supporters were useless. After a moment’s hesitation, he gritted his teeth and jerked his head up abruptly.

The sudden movement startled Zhou Yan. The moment she got a clear look at his face, she blurted out, “That birthmark of yours is something special—it looks just like the print of a shoe…”

At this, the crowd could no longer contain themselves and burst into raucous laughter.

“Pfft! Hahaha, I can’t hold it in anymore.”

“Me neither—Senior Sister Zhou Yan is too sharp!”

Some even laughed until tears streamed down their faces.

Zhou Yan, for her part, found it odd. She remembered clearly that Zhang Yong hadn’t had a birthmark last time—how had one appeared so suddenly? Looking closer, she realized it truly did resemble a shoe sole, even down to the tread pattern.