Chapter 57
854 Words
At this moment, a man from the audience stepped onto the stage. He gave Fred a subtle smile and said, "My name is Timothy Benson. I'm here to challenge Mr. Derrida in piano."
The crowd buzzed with excitement at the mention of Timothy, a middle-aged man.
"Who would have thought Ethan had disciples daring enough to challenge him?"
"But that's Master Derrida! Isn't Timothy overestimating himself?"
"That name sounds so familiar."
"I remember now! The piano prodigy who retired from the music scene four years ago has the last name Benson!"
Seeing Timothy, Fred's face changed dramatically. He cursed inwardly. 'The piano prodigy, Timothy?! Didn't Ethan say his disciples would compete? What is the self-proclaimed world's best pianist doing here?!'
Fred's expression turned gloomy. Although confident in his skills, his so-called expertise was laughable compared to the renowned talent of Timothy.
Fred forced a smile. "Mr… Mr. Benson! Your piano prowess is known worldwide. How could I dare to compete with you?"
Another person stepped forward, smiling. "If Mr. Derrida lacks confidence in his piano skills, how about a chess match?"
Fred looked up, his pupils contracting. "Dante?!"
Fred began to sweat profusely, his voice trembling. "Mr. Howe, you're a world champion. Please don't make fun of an old man like me!"
Next, painting master Colt Hoffman slowly walked onto the stage. "Mr. Derrida doesn't' want to compete in piano or chess. How about we compare our painting skills?"
Fred looked up and immediately fell to the ground.
It was Colt!
Although Fred prided himself on his painting skills, he was nothing more than a nobody compared to Colt. In terms of piano, chess, and painting, Fred couldn't compare to Timothy, Dante, or Colt. They were all world-class talents.
Ethan laughed mockingly at Fred. "What's wrong, Mr. Derrida? Are you no longer interested in competing?"
Fred was visibly shaken and shouted, "Ethan, you're just a nobody! What right do you have to mock me? Where are your so-called disciples? Are they too scared to show up?"
Ethan smiled slightly. "My disciples are already here."
Fred scanned the room, then burst into laughter. "This is nonsense! Are you saying these masters, whom even I feel inferior to, are your disciples? Ridiculous! Haha..."
At that moment, Timothy, Dante, and Colt all bowed respectfully to Ethan, speaking in unison. "Master, your highness. Thank you for your guidance and teachings!"
Fred's laughter abruptly stopped, and he coughed several times, stunned.
Ethan glanced at his three disciples and asked calmly, "What do you think? Mr. Derrida wants to take me as his disciple. Should I agree?"
Timothy looked at Fred and sneered, "Mr. Derrida, you are indeed arrogant!"
Fred, now drenched in sweat and beyond concern for his dignity, bowed humbly. "Masters, I was wrong. I apologize."
Ethan's voice was calm and indifferent. "Mr. Derrida, it seems you no longer intend to take me as your disciple, correct?"
Fred's face flushed with embarrassment. He took a deep breath, his face reddening, and bowed deeply to Ethan. "Ma.. Master Ethan, I was arrogant and wrong. Please forgive me!"
Fred turned to shout, "Martin, Hans, you blind fools! Get over here and apologize on your knees!"
Martin, Hans, and Henry looked utterly defeated. 'To lose to Ethan was already humiliating enough. We had hoped our teacher could salvage some of our dignity. Instead, Ethan's status turned out to be so formidable that even our master, Fred, had to bow and apologize. Kneeling and apologizing now would make us the laughingstock of the world.'
Fred roared, "What are you waiting for? If you don't get Master Ethan's forgiveness, I'll expel you from my school immediately!"
Reluctantly, Martin, Hans, and Henry bowed before Ethan, their faces twisted with shame and anger.
"We're… sorry, Master Ethan."
"It was… our fault."
Though they apologized, their hearts were filled with humiliation and rage. Especially Martin, who looked at Ethan with unending hatred.
Ethan coldly said to Martin, "I was planning to forgive you after breaking five of your fingers earlier, but you haven't shown a hint of remorse."
He walked over to Martin and said, "Even now, I see no sign of regret in your eyes. Since you dared to reach for my wife, you don't need your remaining fingers."
With a swift motion, Ethan stomped on Martin's hand. "Crack!" Martin's remaining fingers broke.
"Ah!" Martin screamed in agony before passing out from the pain.
Ethan then turned to Fred and his students. "A person's achievements do not equate to their moral standing! Someone as despicable as Martin, no matter how well he plays the piano, is still a scoundrel! Let me give you some advice: Learn virtue before art, and be a good person before an artist!"
"Clap, clap, clap!"
The applause began from somewhere in the crowd and soon, like a chain reaction, the entire stadium stood up, their thunderous clapping echoing through the venue.
Ethan was about to leave the stage with Sophia when he felt his phone vibrate.
He saw a new message pop up: [Dear Mr. Lee, please come to the Eastern Academy at 3 PM today for your final interview!]
- Writer
