Professional Face-Slapping
832 Words
The tall, thin man’s request for friendship was like dirt reaching for gold. Would the privileged ever agree? Of course not. With such transparent motives, they weren’t fools. So, Chu Ran refused outright. And with icy elegance, he dissected the man with his sharp, philosophical words.
Young Master Zhao Sizhuo, who had witnessed the entire scene, stared in awe. *This is the caliber of the one I must follow! That regal, commanding aura, those irrefutable, piercing words!* —Even if he hadn't grasped their meaning. Seeing his rival for patronage get ruthlessly rejected filled him with secret satisfaction. *Serves you right for trying to cut in!*
After the rejection, the tall man’s eyes dimmed briefly, though his pale face remained impassive. He looked at Chu Ran and said flatly, "I see."
"Rejected…" He tilted his head back, gazing at the vast sky.
"You're right."
A long pause later, he added, "Someone like me doesn't deserve friends."
*Someone who would use a friend… what right do I have? After so much deceit, lies, exploitation, and betrayal, I've long forgotten my original heart.*
Chu Ran listened, expressionless and cold. He stood silently, robes and sleeves stirring in the breeze.
*This one is breaking,* he observed dispassionately. *His faith is crumbling.*
*How ironic,* Chu Ran mused, a sneer touching his lips. *A shaman, whose power flows from faith, is destroying that very foundation.*
*What will he become once it's gone?*
*A demon?*
*How fascinating.*
The burly companion could take no more. He stepped forward, shouting at Chu Ran in outrage, "How can you be so heartless! Ah Zhen just wanted to be your friend! Why mock him like that!"
Chu Ran lifted his gaze, a faint, scornful smile on his lips. "Which ear heard me mock him?"
The burly man faltered, then blustered, "Both did! Everything you said was mockery!"
"Heh…" Chu Ran chuckled softly, looking at him with utter disdain. "Fool."
"…" The burly man was speechless.
Instantly, his face flushed crimson with rage. He was a lit fuse.
*Boom!*
He exploded.
His right fist shot out toward Chu Ran's face with a furious roar.
*Whoosh—*
The air tore. The punch was swift and fierce, its momentum terrifying.
"I'll end you!" the man bellowed.
Young Master Zhao paled. *Disaster! My prospective patron looks so fragile. He'll never survive that hit.* Zhao's vision swam, already picturing Chu Ran beaten b****y, the mighty Chu Family enraged, and rivers of bloodshed.
The sudden violence drew all eyes. Everyone saw the muscular brute attacking the slender youth.
The attacker was fierce, muscles coiled, his punch kicking up dust. In stark contrast, Chu Ran was delicate, pale, and exquisitely dressed—the picture of fragile nobility.
The crowd winced. *What a shame!*
Their thoughts likely echoed: *How the times have changed! A brute assaulting a delicate beauty right in the street!*
The powerful fist sped toward Chu Ran's face. Yet Chu Ran didn't flinch. He stood perfectly still, his expression cold and unmoved, not even a flicker of fear in his eyes.
*Pathetic display,* the burly man thought with a mental snort.
The fist wind whistled. Chu Ran stood tall, his black hair swept back by the gust. Pale and slender, he held a morbid, tragic beauty for a fleeting moment—heart-stopping.
Many looked away, unable to watch.
*What a waste. Such a noble youth…* The crowd felt a pang of pity and regret.
#ThePowerOfAPrettyFace#
Everyone was certain of the outcome. Even Zhao shut his eyes, face white with dread.
The formidable fist hurtled toward Chu Ran's cheek. At the last possible moment—
Chu Ran simply raised his hand. His fair, slender palm moved forward to meet it.
Time seemed to freeze. Everything slowed…
Effortlessly, naturally, that delicate, vein-traced palm stopped the blow.
Everything stilled. The wind died. Silence fell. A profound, heavy quiet.
The burly man's eyes widened in shock and disbelief. He stared at his fist.
*Blocked—*
He stared at that slender, pale hand. Those long fingers looked breakable. Yet they had halted his strike.
"Impossible!" the man roared. "This can't be!"
"I don't believe it!" he shouted, refusing to accept it.
The onlookers, hearing the cry, looked back. Their eyes bulged.
*What? How?*
The brute's fist was caught in the youth's single, graceful palm. The once-dominant attacker now stood red-faced, frantic, and utterly confounded.
"You… you used some evil trick!" the burly man accused Chu Ran. "That's it! A demonic art!"
Chu Ran regarded him with detached coldness, a smirk slowly curling his lip. His voice was clear, icy, and laced with scorn. "A trick?"
"Heh—" he sneered. "Typical brainless brute. You don't even understand the basic principle of yielding to overcome force, redirecting strength with technique."
"All profound arts must seem demonic to you. If so, why bother seeking the Dao or bowing to masters?" Chu Ran's voice dripped with contempt. "Go back to mindlessly tempering your body. Fool."
*You dared strike at me?*
*You have nerve.*
- Writer
