Chapter Thirty-Five: Seeking Them Out!
As soon as Jiang Yuan heard Nezha’s words, he felt a flicker of annoyance—was this brat incapable of speaking properly? Did he have to start with insults right away?
“Ding! Recognition from Nezha detected. Reward: 10 Tyrant Points. Current Tyrant Points: 710!”
The system notification instantly lifted Jiang Yuan’s spirits. If you know how to talk, then say more—delight may come late, but it never misses its appointment.
“Who are you? What is your name? Whose child are you?” Jiang Yuan asked, feigning ignorance, a pastime he particularly enjoyed.
The system had already presented him with every detail about Nezha:
Character: Nezha
Title: Son of Li Jing, Guardian of Chentang Pass; Third-generation disciple of the Chan Sect; Pupil of the Immortal Taiyi
Realm: True Immortal
Possessions: Cosmic Silk, Universal Ring, Wind-Fire Wheels, Fire-tipped Spear
Cultivation Technique: Eight-Nine Arcane Art
Mount: Wind-Fire Wheels
Loyalty: 0
Favorability: 0
Tyrant Points Available: 450
Goodness, this Nezha had clearly been thoroughly indoctrinated by the Chan Sect—he had not a shred of goodwill toward Jiang Yuan, which would make things rather difficult moving forward.
Though he admired Nezha, Jiang Yuan thought grimly, it seemed he would have no choice but to kill him.
“Is it any of your business who I am?” Nezha snorted, his face a mask of pride.
Jiang Yuan smiled faintly. For now, Nezha was at his mercy, so there was no rush to deal with him. Calmly, he replied, “Do you believe I couldn’t guess your identity even if you refused to tell me?”
“Don’t try to bluff me!” Nezha glared back, clearly unconvinced. His demeanor said it all: So what if you’re all talk? What can you do to me?
“Your name is Li Nezha, isn’t it? Son of Li Jing, Guardian of Chentang Pass?” Jiang Yuan said playfully.
“So what if you guessed right? I’m not afraid of you!” Nezha shot back.
One had to admit, Nezha lived up to his reputation—his words were as bold as ever!
“You’re not afraid of me because your master is the Immortal Taiyi, correct?” Jiang Yuan said, as if he had seen through everything.
This time, Nezha’s gaze turned searching. “How do you know who my master is?”
Of course, Jiang Yuan thought—he had once been a fan, how could he not know? And those treasures of Nezha’s were hardly for show!
Before Jiang Yuan could continue, Nezha, now looking smug, declared, “Now that you, the tyrant, know who my master is, shouldn’t you let me go?”
“I’ll let this matter slide for now, but one day, when I come to attack Zhaoge, I’ll settle the score with you then!”
Was Nezha out of his mind? Did he not realize the situation? Why did it sound like Jiang Yuan was the one pleading for mercy, as if he had been captured?
“So your family plans to rebel? Aren’t you worried about dragging the Li clan into trouble?” Jiang Yuan asked with an amused smile.
Nezha curled his lip in disdain. “So what if trouble comes? It’s hardly the first time I’ve made things difficult for my family. Besides, I have nothing to do with the Li clan anymore—I only spoke as I did because I can’t stand tyrants like you!”
“Oh? Having trouble at home? Kids getting rebellious so early—this isn’t good,” Jiang Yuan said, patting Nezha’s head in mock seriousness, his tone oddly gentle.
It was as if he had endless patience for Nezha.
Jiang Yuan had unintentionally opened Nezha’s floodgates, for Nezha now ranted indignantly, “All I did was take a dragon tendon from the Eastern Sea, and Li Jing wanted to kill me to atone for it! He even drove me out of the family!”
So Nezha had left home in a fit of anger—no wonder he wasn’t causing trouble by the Eastern Sea, but here in the Southern Sea instead. Jiang Yuan couldn’t help but wonder what grudge Nezha had against dragons.
“In that case, do you harbor rebellious intentions toward me?” Jiang Yuan asked.
“Of course! I’ll kill tyrants like you!” Nezha spat out, eyes fierce.
“Then tell me, what sort of tyrant am I?” Jiang Yuan asked patiently.
This stumped Nezha. How was he supposed to know? His master only told him Jiang Yuan was a tyrant but never explained what cruel deeds he’d committed.
“I don’t care! My master said you’re a tyrant, so you are!” Nezha insisted with childish logic.
Jiang Yuan could only sigh, choosing not to respond further. It was clear now—the Chan Sect was already teaching its next generation to hate the Shang Dynasty.
“Jiao, has your master, Guang Chengzi, ever said anything like that about me?” Jiang Yuan turned to ask Yin Jiao.
Yin Jiao thought for a moment, then replied hesitantly, “Father, my master never spoke ill of you outright, but he would sometimes let slip that our dynasty’s fortune was failing, and that great collapse was imminent.”
Jiang Yuan’s face showed that he had expected as much. He snorted coldly, “These so-called Golden Immortals of the Chan Sect—each one more meddlesome than the last!”
Nezha was surprised to hear that Yin Jiao’s master was Guang Chengzi, and grew even more incensed with this boy who was only a few years older than himself.
“You traitor! How dare you turn against your master and ancestors to help a tyrant!”
Yin Jiao met Nezha’s gaze calmly. “I see nothing wrong in aiding my own father.”
Jiang Yuan was gratified by this answer, and praised Yin Jiao warmly, “You are a good child.”
He added silently: So just be obedient and return to Zhaoge as a tool. The world will be won by me.
“Nonsense!” Nezha interjected at the perfect moment.
Now Jiang Yuan was truly displeased. Was this brat born to contradict everything? Such an unruly child—soon enough, he’d teach him a lesson!
Guang Chengzi was Nezha’s senior uncle, after all. If even his disciple was willing to be Jiang Yuan’s son, what could Nezha possibly do?
At this point, Jiang Yuan’s expression grew frosty. He strode up to Nezha without a word and seized his magical treasures, taking the Universal Ring, Cosmic Silk, Wind-Fire Wheels, and all the rest for himself.
Then, in a cold voice, he ordered Zhang Kui, “This child is far too arrogant—lock his scapulae!”
Zhang Kui understood at once. He felt no pity for Nezha just because he was a child. Without hesitation, he plunged his hands into Nezha’s back.
A wail of agony escaped Nezha, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
With his scapulae locked, he could no longer use any of his magical powers—he was no different from an ordinary child.
“You must understand,” Jiang Yuan said, voice icy, “that in this world, only my word matters. I will not have the so-called disciples of the Saints interfering—least of all a brat like you!”
N