Chapter 90: This Is Simply Bullying

We reluctantly saw off the orc shadow thief, who was quite the expert in meditation, and he promptly turned his eager gaze back toward us, anticipating that his newly refined techniques might once again shine. He asked, with an eager and friendly air:

"Is there anyone else who needs a weapon upgrade?"

He really was a good man—truly—to be so tireless and selfless in his desire to help his friends.

I held the utmost respect for this highland dwarf’s dedication and selflessness toward friendship. If it were possible, I would willingly exhaust all my strength to assist him.

However, at such a delicate moment as this…

Hey, you little brat, if you dare to stare at my sword one more time, watch out or I’ll dismantle your bones!

Ever since witnessing the two unfortunate incidents involving the "Long Triangle," none of us had the courage to entrust our reliable weapons to the dwarven weaponsmith for another "miracle." This unassuming dwarf seemed to possess the great power of turning everything magical into rot. I had no desire to watch a high-quality longsword worth over five hundred gold coins instantly transform into a "rusty butter knife" or a "sharp-edged cleaning rod"—the kind of "unique masterpiece" that was soft as butter when striking enemies and perfect for committing suicide.

Just as we stood in awkward silence, unsure how to face the expectant gaze of the longbowman, a miserable howl finally broke the stalemate, rescuing us from our embarrassment:

"Boss Fo Xiao, I’ve finally found you..."

Following the sound, a tall, middle-aged man came sprinting toward us. He was burly and muscular, his face covered in thick stubble. With heavy brows and large eyes, his features were rugged and square, embodying the deep, steady maturity of a middle-aged man. He shouted with a thick, magnetic, and authoritative voice:

"Boss, I’ve been bullied! The precious armor you gave me was stolen! You must stand up for me..."

As he spoke, he burst into tears and threw himself into the arms of the white-clad swordsman, Fo Xiao, like a fledgling bird returning to the woods, or a thirsty horse racing toward a spring.

And thus, we once again encountered the cheap follower Fo Xiao had picked up on a whim: the only monk in our guild, a madman who had used sheer perseverance to power-level to thirty using only basic skills—"I Am Your Father."

"I Am Your Father" looked in terrible shape. His armor was severely damaged; the elven robe that once reached his feet had been reduced to a sleeveless vest, exposing his solid, powerful biceps. His helmet, "Halo of Faith," was nothing more than a broken iron ring, crooked and sagging atop his head, making it difficult to associate it with any lofty devotion to the Supreme God. Furthermore, his bracers, trousers, and boots were all in such a state of disrepair that one could no longer even guess what they were originally supposed to look like.

For a healthy, handsome adult male to be "bullied" into such a disheveled state was bound to draw surprised looks from onlookers. And when this poor wretch threw himself so affectionately into the arms of a dashing, white-clad youth, the bystanders’ thoughts naturally wandered into the forbidden skies beyond the edge of morality. The gazes that Xian Ge Ya Yi and the others cast toward Fo Xiao immediately took on a deeper, more meaningful nuance.

Realizing that he had inadvertently become the potential male lead B (there was no female lead, only potential male lead A) of a forbidden topic, Fo Xiao flushed, pushed the bearded man out of his arms, and declared indignantly:

"What are you looking at? What’s so funny? It’s not like what you’re imagining..."

The Supreme God above! I am a pious believer with a pure heart; I wouldn't dare have such messy "imaginations." Fo Xiao was being far too paranoid.

What? You ask me how I know he’s paranoid? Pfft, who are you kidding? Do you think I don’t know that he thinks he knows what we’re thinking? It’s just that, isn’t it? I hadn't even thought of that at all...

Under Fo Xiao’s questioning, we quickly learned what had happened to the bearded monk, "I Am Your Father":

When the guild issued its first payroll, "I Am Your Father" hadn't been there. But our guild leader, Lady Fei Yin, hadn't forgotten him and had specifically wired him two hundred gold coins.

One can imagine how thrilled this pauper—who had been struggling on the poverty line since level ten and rarely saw double-digit silver coins—felt when he woke up to find a "huge sum" of two hundred gold coins in his hands. Predictably, he made the same choice every nouveau riche idiot makes upon receiving money: shopping.

After purchasing a pair of trousers, a pair of gloves, leather boots, and a belt, he suddenly found his magical backpack was full. I simply couldn't fathom how this rookie had managed to accumulate so much junk—our magical backpacks had a massive capacity, and even when mine was at its fullest, it was only a third of the way there. I had once believed these backpacks were impossible to fill, yet this sub-forty-level rookie had actually completed such a daunting task.

Had he never sold his old gear?

"I... I only know how to buy, not how to sell..." "I Am Your Father" whispered, his face turning red.

Ah, indeed!

"On the right side of the trading interface, there are two buttons: one for buy, one for sell..." The swordsman Fo Xiao shook his head helplessly, lamenting how the gods could allow an idiot with zero survival sense to exist.

"Oh? Is that so? I’ll pay attention next time." "I Am Your Father" looked as if he had discovered a new continent.

Anyway, to put on his new gear, the bearded monk performed a "Tower of Hanoi" style swap. He took some items out of his bag, put his old gear in, put on the new gear, and intended to put the old items back into his bag at the end.

But right at that moment, a passing Sky-Walker snatched up everything he had thrown on the ground right in front of him.

"Boss Fo Xiao, the precious armor you gave me was taken too..." The bearded middle-aged man was on the verge of tears as he recounted this.

How despicable! Although this robbery was entirely caused by "I Am Your Father’s" stupidity, the fact that someone would rob such a clumsy rookie only confirmed the thief’s shamelessness.

"What kind of 'precious armor' did you give him to make him feel such heartache?" I asked Fo Xiao quietly.

"A 'Sturdy Tunic,' level forty trash. He was almost level forty, so I just threw it to him," Fo Xiao whispered back.

As the name suggested, the "Sturdy Tunic" only had one advantage: compared to cloth armor of the same level, its physical defense was the best, but all other attribute bonuses were negligible. You have to understand, no matter how high the defense, cloth armor is still just cloth armor. If some guy were to walk around at level forty wearing such an unsightly and useless piece of trash, he would be chased and mocked.

So tacky—I was instantly enraged—to rob someone for such garbage equipment, that shameless crook was truly bottom-of-the-barrel!

Faced with such a despicable villain, "I Am Your Father" displayed the courage and tenacity that a wandering ascetic of the Supreme God should have against evil: he relentlessly chased the robber out of the city and, without any tactical advantage, decisively took military action.

Regrettably, while the Supreme God teaches us that good must triumph over evil, courage and tenacity alone cannot defeat an opponent. With "I Am Your Father’s" combat skills, which were so rudimentary they made one want to vomit blood, it would have been an insult to the Supreme God’s will if he had actually won.

And so, "I Am Your Father" was beaten black and blue, lost his gear, and died at the hands of that robber three times in a row. The villain even arrogantly claimed that if "I Am Your Father" could kill him just once, he would return everything he had stolen. We know the rest of the story: just as "I Am Your Father" was preparing for a fourth futile attempt, he happened to spot Fo Xiao on the side of the road.

"Boss Fo Xiao, you must help me get revenge..." the bearded monk wailed sorrowfully. "...That guy is just too arrogant! Not only did he rob and kill me, but he even sent messages to provoke me, saying I was beaten to a pulp by a twenty-ninth-level newbie and had to tuck my tail and run..."

"What did you say?" Veins popped on Fo Xiao’s forehead. "What level did you say he was?"

"I Am Your Father" realized he had slipped up, stuttered for a moment, and then hung his head in shame: "Twenty-nine..."

This burly, middle-aged monk was level thirty-seven.

"Are you an idiot?" Fo Xiao couldn't help but roar in frustration. "You let a rookie nearly ten levels lower than you kill you three times? And you have the nerve to ask me to stand up for you? If you aren't embarrassed, I am!"

"But... but I really can't beat him..." the unlucky-looking man said, completely spineless.

"Then ignore him! Just consider yourself unlucky!" Seeing his guild companions observing his follower’s pathetic state, Fo Xiao felt his reputation taking a hit and spoke with a furious glare.

"But he keeps sending messages to insult me, I just can't swallow this!" "I Am Your Father," helpless and resentful, opened his magical notebook, glanced at it, spat, and deleted the message.

"I’m busy with a quest..." Fo Xiao, being pestered, furrowed his brows, unable to hide his impatience, though he refrained from outright refusing the monk’s plea for the sake of appearances. "...I don't have time to deal with this nonsense."

Seeing Fo Xiao’s hesitation, "I Am Your Father" gritted his teeth, patted his chest, and shouted: "Boss, say no more! You help your little brother this one last time, and tomorrow night at six-thirty, at the Dragon King Hall on the third floor of the Swallow Wing Tower, bring your lady along. I’ll throw a banquet in your honor, and we’ll welcome you with open arms!"

The power of a banquet was indeed immense. As soon as those words left "I Am Your Father’s" lips, Fo Xiao’s expression changed instantly, his face plastered with a performative smile: "Well... why are you doing this? We live in the same city, meeting is fate; distant relatives aren't as good as close neighbors, helping each other is only right. But this matter, it’s really..."

"Boss, in this world, face is everything! That jerk didn't give me face, which means he didn't give you face! You must help me vent this anger!" Seeing Fo Xiao waver, "I Am Your Father" fanned the flames, fearing the world wouldn't be chaotic enough. "If you really don't go, then even if I have to die a hundred times, I’ll fight him to the death!" The bearded monk made a show of walking away.

"Stop!" Fo Xiao timely called out to halt "I Am Your Father." "How can a boss just watch his little brother go to his death! Fine, I’ll take care of this revenge for you!" The white-clad swordsman declared righteously.

"Boss..." "I Am Your Father" was moved to tears. "...Thank you so much!"

"We’re all brothers, your enemies are my enemies, don't mention thanks..." Fo Xiao stood tall, righteous and firm. "...Third floor, Dragon King Hall, right? I’ll be there sharp at six-thirty tomorrow night!"

...

Although the stolen items weren't worth much and a level twenty-nine opponent didn't merit much attention, our guild mate had been killed several times, so we couldn't just stand by. Soon, we followed "I Am Your Father" to a clearing outside the city.

"That’s the guy who stole my 'precious armor'!" the bearded monk pointed angrily at a rogue named "He Xi Ni" who was killing bears not far away.

Seeing so many people arrive, He Xi Ni looked a bit panicked, but he remained defiant: "A level thirty-seven idiot is back to die again? Haven't you had enough? Bringing so many people to watch? Aren't you ashamed?"

"I Am Your Father’s" face turned shades of blue and red; he glared at the swaggering rogue, unable to utter a single word.

Fo Xiao gave him a reproachful look and stepped forward:

"Are you the one who robbed my friend of his gear?"

"I didn't rob him! He threw it away himself, whoever picks it up, it belongs to!" Facing a swordsman nearing level fifty, He Xi Ni didn't dare to be insulting, but he tried to defend himself.

"That gear was something I gave him to use. Hand it over, and that’s the end of it; I don't want to cause you trouble." Fo Xiao frowned, impatient. For him, this was an incredibly awkward situation. If he were too overbearing, it would look like bullying the weak; if he were to beg a low-level rookie, it would be humiliating. Looking at his unnatural expression, I was truly glad I didn't have a follower as troublesome as "I Am Your Father."

"Why should I? No one forced him to throw it away. If you’re so capable, let him come get it himself! I’ll accept whatever happens if he kills me!" He Xi Ni gritted his teeth, though his voice was no longer loud. His "let him come get it himself" was just a desperate hope that a high-level expert like Fo Xiao wouldn't lower himself to intervene personally—it was less of a challenge and more of a form of submission.

Normally, if things had continued along this trajectory, they might have been resolved.

But there are always some idiots in the world who don't know what's good for them.

Regrettably, "I Am Your Father" was the most clueless of them all...

"Boss, he killed me three times, it can't just end here! Make him return the armor and kill him three more times, camp his corpse to get revenge for me..."

"I Am Your Father" clamored loudly behind Fo Xiao, determined not to let the matter drop.

Hearing the threat, He Xi Ni’s face changed drastically, and he hissed, "Fine! So you’ve decided to use numbers to bully me? You have a guild, and I don't? Who doesn't know how to call for help? Just you wait!"

Before he finished speaking, he pulled out his magical notebook and sent several messages in a row:

"It’s just a guild war! Who’s afraid of whom!"

Labeled with the accusation of bullying the weak, Fo Xiao, who had been wronged, turned pale with anger. He turned back and glared at his cheap follower, wishing he could grab a handful of mud and seal his stinking mouth shut.

It was only then that I noticed a line of text under the name of the rogue, He Xi Ni—it read "Order of the Punishing Hammer."

Huh, that name sounded familiar.

Suddenly, it dawned on me, and I finally remembered where I had seen that name before.

Punishing Hammer? The number one guild on the continent? Now, we were in real trouble.