Chief, don't hit me in the face

Chapter 50: Those Who Insult Me Will Pay Back a Hundredfold!

Xia Ye took off his crossbow and displayed the large character “甲” on it to the onlookers. Another wave of gasps! As one of the Xia clan’s three great blacksmiths, Xia Jia’s mark was familiar even to children—after all, owning a weapon forged by his own hands was every man’s dream. “Do you think you can just buy a weapon made by Xia Jia with money?” Xia Ye snorted coldly. On one hand, he was explaining the origin of the equipment to dispel any suspicion; on the other, he was formally introducing Mo Wu Heng to let everyone know he had powerful connections, hoping to prevent such incidents from happening again. Sure enough, Xia Qian’s face darkened. Had he hit a brick wall? But this Xia Ye—what on earth made Mo Wu Heng take such an interest in him? The neighbors no longer harbored any doubts. After all, Xia Ye was not only poor but also lacked status—he was a good-for-nothing. Not to mention Xia Jia—even his apprentice wouldn’t give him the time of day. So the gear must have been a gift from Mo Wu Heng. But why? “Could it be that Xia Ye has become a kept man?” When the neighbors looked at Xia Ye again, they noticed that although he still wasn’t particularly muscular, he was tall with a well-proportioned physique. His single ponytail, tied at the nape of his neck, swayed gently in the breeze, giving him an indescribable, refined charm—different from the typical “muscle-bound hunk” type, and very pleasing to the eye. “Just you wait—I’m going back right now to get the proof!” Xia Qian was the type to bully the weak and fear the strong. As a tax official, he knew a thing or two about Mo Zuo’s background—it was a force he couldn’t afford to cross. As soon as he realized Xia Ye might be connected to Mo Wu Heng, he made up an excuse and prepared to back out, deciding to wait and see how things played out. “Phew!” Hearing this, the few middle-aged women concerned about Xia Lingyue immediately breathed a sigh of relief—they’d managed to get through this crisis. But Xia Ye’s next words made their hearts, which had just settled, leap back into their throats. “Wait!” Xia Ye spoke up: “Did I say you could leave?” “What?” The onlookers, who were just about to disperse, froze in their tracks. They turned and stared at Xia Ye in astonishment, desperately wanting to ask, “Are you out of your mind, kid?” “It’s one thing for Xia Qian not to give you guys a hard time, but what? Are you planning to get back at them now?” “What did you say?” Xia Qian was taken aback for a moment, then a surge of anger shot straight to his head: “What kind of attitude is that? Do you really think I can’t handle you?” “Xia Ye！” Xia Lingyue tugged at her younger brother’s sleeve. “Leave it to me!” Xia Ye set down his backpack and walked straight up to Xia Qian: “Which hand did you use to hit my sister?” “My right hand!” Xia Qian tried to straighten his back, but his stocky build meant that even standing next to Xia Ye, he was still nearly a head shorter—looking like a comical duck egg. “Xia Ye, that’s enough!” The neighbor’s aunt intervened. “What? Are you planning to cripple me too?” Xia Qian raised his right hand and waved it in front of Xia Ye: “Go ahead, then. I’m a tax collector, in charge of collecting taxes in the slums. Oh, and my brother-in-law is Xia Qingdong… Ah!” Before Xia Qian could finish his boast, it turned into a scream, because Xia Ye grabbed his finger and wrenched it hard! Crack! His little finger snapped clean off. “Damn it, you little bastard, I’m going to kill you!” Xia Qian cursed furiously, his eyes red with rage. Xia Ye clenched his right fist and slammed it with all his might into Xia Qian’s mouth. Thud! Xia Qian’s head snapped back, and his threats—along with blood and broken teeth—were forced back down his throat. “Ah!” The entire crowd gasped in shock. No one had expected Xia Ye to actually dare to strike him—did he even know who Xia Qian really was? Hitting him would spell big trouble! “You…” Xia Qian glared at Xia Ye with venom in his eyes, but before he could finish speaking, another punch landed squarely on his face. Thud! The iron fists pounded down, and blood spattered like plum blossoms, soaking the dirt. Seeing that Xia Ye had struck first, Xia Lingyue didn’t try to stop him. She stood there quietly, quickly thinking through how to handle the aftermath, while a sense of pride welled up inside her. Her younger brother had grown up; he knew how to protect himself now. Xia Qian was stunned by the beating. He’d never been particularly strong to begin with, and years of a pampered, comfortable life had already ruined his physique, leaving him completely unable to fight back. Thud! Xia Qian collapsed to the ground, his face covered in blood—a sight too gruesome to behold. “His right hand?” Xia Ye’s right foot, clad in a knee-high boot, pressed down on Xia Qian’s arm. Song Guo, clutching a rock the size of a pineapple, crouched down beside him and smashed it right into his fingers. Thud! Blood and flesh splattered everywhere. Ah! Xia Qian let out a blood-curdling scream. “Ugh, that sounds awful!” Xiao Song Guo frowned, grabbed a rock, and was about to hurl it at Xia Qian’s head—he was just too loud. “Don’t! If he passes out, how will he get to savor the pain?” Xia Ye pouted. “Mm-hmm!” Song Guo nodded in understanding, then grabbed a large blue stone and, as if cracking walnuts, smashed Xia Qian’s five fingers one by one. A pool of blood and mangled flesh appeared on the ground. Thud! The large blue stone slammed into the ground, not only shattering the fingers but also sending the deafening sound reverberating through the hearts of the onlookers. For a moment, all eyes—stunned and wide-eyed—turned toward Xia Ye. Especially the neighbors who knew Xia Ye—they simply couldn’t believe it. Was this really the sickly teenager they knew? How could he be so ruthless and unyielding? A deathly silence fell over the crowd. Xia Qian had done so many bad things in the past that no one was willing to plead for him—especially someone like Xia Laoshi, who found the whole thing utterly satisfying and wished he could have done it himself. “You’re done for. Ugh, my brother-in-law won’t let you off the hook!” Xia Qian threatened, his eyes flashing with murderous intent. Song Guo grabbed a large green stone with both hands and smacked it right into Xia Qian’s face with a loud crack, shattering his entire jaw. “You’re so annoying—just like a fly!” After venting her frustration, Song Guo shifted her stance and began smashing Xia Qian’s left hand—she had no intention of leaving him even a single finger intact. This time, the entire crowd fell silent; everyone was terrified by this ferocious little girl. “Enough! If you keep hitting him, he’ll die!” A middle-aged man stepped forward. He was one of the five ward leaders in the slum—a figure who was part official, part civilian, with limited authority. His duties included overseeing the area to prevent residents from fleeing and ensuring that the clan chief’s orders were carried out smoothly among the common people. To put it bluntly, he served as a watchdog. “Where were you when my sister was being bullied?” Xia Ye retorted. “Uh!” The ward leader choked on his words, thinking to himself, “How can your sister be compared to a tax collector?” But seeing Xia Qian’s pitiful, half-dead state, he swallowed the words back before they left his mouth. For some reason, Xia Ye frightened him today. Seeing that Xia Qian had completely passed out, Song Guo glared at the village chief and walked over, clutching the bloodstained stone. “Do whatever you want!” The village chief hurriedly stepped back, not wanting to get himself into trouble. “Young Master Xia Zhitang, did you come here to see me?” Xia Ye looked out at the crowd. “What? Do you want me to take care of your trouble for you?” A young man dressed in silk stepped forward; those on either side quickly bowed their heads and stepped back. This was the youngest son of the Xia family’s Grand Prophet—a true second-generation heir to power. Greet him? They weren’t even worthy of doing so. “This scoundrel has been wreaking havoc in the slums for years—embezzling taxes, raping other men’s wives and daughters, driving good people to their deaths, and causing the ruin of more than a dozen families. I’d like to ask you, Young Master Xia: is this the Xia Clan under the Great Prophet’s rule?” Xia Ye demanded, each word striking a nerve. Whoa! The onlookers bowed their heads even lower, their hearts racing in anxiety for Xia Ye. Are you really not afraid of death? How dare you question the Great Prophet! “Ha! Do I look like the kind of person who’d let a few provocative words go to my head? Don’t take me for a fool!” Xia Zhitang retorted sarcastically, quickly distancing himself: “Whether this man is guilty or not is for the Grand Clan Chief to determine!” “So you came here for the rare artifacts, then? I was out of town these past few days, visiting the Grand Shaman, and he gave me some more rare artifacts!” Xia Ye immediately changed the subject. As long as he could align himself with Xia Zhitang, who would dare come after him? Xia Qian’s status was too low—no one would risk offending the Great Prophet’s son just for his sake. “Oh?” Xia Zhitang’s face lit up with delight, and he swallowed hard. That sweet red sand was so addictive—it had left him unable to enjoy any food for the past few days. Xia Ye had said that the second “Thousand Gold Object Identification” contest would take place in fifteen days, but Xia Zhitang couldn’t even wait until tomorrow—he’d come early to take a look, only to witness this scene. To be honest, he’d heard every word Xia Wa had said. This Xia Qian really was scum—not only had he slept with someone else’s wife, but he’d also hit their child. That was utterly despicable. “I’ll get some for Young Master Xia right away. It’s one Dao Coin per mouthful—I can’t break the rules set by the Great Prophet, but I can give you a little extra!” Xia Ye smiled: “I hope Young Master Xia identifies the wondrous object soon!” “Alright, hurry up!” Xia Zhitang urged him on; money was no object to him. When he saw the red sand, Xia Zhitang cupped it in his hands, brought it close to his nose, and took a deep breath. The sweet fragrance went straight to his heart. He wanted to eat it but couldn’t bear to; he wanted to take it home to present to his parents first. “Wait—I’ll identify this object very soon!” After saying this, Xia Zhitang cast another glance at Xia Qian, who was slumped like a dead dog: “This fellow has brought disgrace upon the Xia clan. I’ll have Father strip him of his position and demote him to slavery.” Xia Qian, who had just woken up, nearly fainted from shock upon hearing this. The onlookers froze for a moment, then more than a dozen of them went berserk, charging at Xia Qian and beating him with fists and feet. He was just a slave—lower in status than they were. If they beat him to death, so be it; they’d settle the scores for all the wrongs they’d suffered over the years first. “Spit! You dog of a traitor, Xia Qian—you’ve finally met your end!” Xia Laoshi cursed furiously. Just as Xia Qian was about to open his mouth to beg for mercy, a thick glob of phlegm rose in his throat. “Young Master Xia has rid the people of a menace. When the Great Prophet hears of this, he will surely be proud of you!” Xia Ye praised him. In truth, even if Xia Zhitang hadn’t intervened, he’d have found a way to kill Xia Qian himself—whether it was the ancient method of making brown sugar or the purification of snow salt, either one alone would have been enough to get Xia Qian killed a hundred times over. “No need to flatter me!” Xia Zhitang sized up Xia Ye: “That gear of yours is pretty cool. To be honest, I have a way to help you bypass the Blood Survival Trial—as long as you…” Xia Zhitang didn’t finish his sentence, but the glance he cast toward the brown sugar spoke volumes. His father surmised that this red sand must be man-made—he just didn’t know the method! Xia Ye shook his head. “Heh, I suppose so!” Xia Zhitang shook his head, a flicker of contempt and disappointment crossing his eyes. This kid probably couldn’t even recognize a few characters—asking him to secretly figure out how to make such a strange artifact was like asking a stray dog to learn to write. It was simply asking the impossible! “Let’s go!” Xia Zhitang waved his hand, his enthusiasm waning. Xia Lingyue clenched her fists. The deep contempt in Xia Zhitang’s eyes stung her heart—her younger brother was being looked down upon. She desperately wanted to shout out that the brown sugar—the one-of-a-kind substance that drove the nobility wild—had been made by her younger brother.