"I... my na is Liao Ping’an." The frail young boy with a face covered in blood softly spoke.
The middle-aged man slightly furrowed his brows and said, "You don’t want to be my disciple?"
The boy nad Liao Ping’an lowered his head and remained silent. He had never heard of Mo Shouhe and had no idea about the astonishing background of the seemingly ordinary middle-aged man before him.
After all, Liao Ping’an was the lowest disciple at the teor Sword Villa, having never seen much of the world, nor knowing the mighty figures under heaven and earth.
For Liao Ping’an, the elders in teor Sword Villa were already strong figures in his heart.
Mo Shouhe gave a cold snort and casually lifted the boy up, causing fear to flash in the boy’s eyes, uncertain of the man’s intentions.
"Whether you want to or not, a disciple chosen by , Mo Shouhe, has no right to refuse. From now on, you are my disciple." Mo Shouhe said forcefully, with cold eyes fixed on Liao Ping’an.
"Yes!" Liao Ping’an trembled all over, not daring to refuse.
Mo Shouhe flicked his hand, tossing Liao Ping’an to the ground like a discarded object.
"I won’t help you with anything. If you want revenge, if you want to inflict your pain a hundredfold on those people, you must claw and survive. Even if trampled underfoot, you must live."
"I can teach you skills that reach heaven and earth, but if you truly are a waste, I won’t care for you. Better for useless things to die sooner."
"If you’re still alive after three months, co and see again at this mountain."
····
Liao Ping’an was still Liao Ping’an, and the teor Sword Villa remained as calm as ever. However, the only unrest was that Liao Ping’an was disfigured.
Originally, no one interacted with Liao Ping’an. Now, with his face completely ruined, making him extrely grotesque, those around treated him like a ghost, isolating him further.
Liao Ping’an beca more silent, and the incident where Zhang scarred his face on the mountain peak was totally ignored by the elders at teor Sword Villa, as if they had forgotten Liao Ping’an.
However, being disfigured had its perks; those who usually bullied him seed to find his face too disgusting and thus left him relatively peaceful for two months.
But in the third month, Zhang once again brought people to drag Liao Ping’an onto the peak.
Liao Ping’an did not resist or struggle, allowing them to pull him around like a puppet without consciousness.
"Liao, your face seems healed." Zhang said with a smirk.
Liao Ping’an remained silent, avoiding eye contact, fearing Zhang might see the hatred in his eyes.
Seeing Liao Ping’an silent, Zhang did not hesitate, directly kicking Liao Ping’an to the ground.
This kick was powerful, and with Zhang’s cultivation, it was beyond Liao Ping’an’s ability to withstand.
Imdiately, Liao Ping’an spewed blood and lay trembling on the ground, clearly heavily injured.
Zhang looked coldly at Liao Ping’an from above: "How can our teor Sword Villa have a waste like you? If other Sword Tao sects knew we accepted a disciple who can’t even wield a sword, wouldn’t they laugh at us?"
As he spoke, he kicked Liao Ping’an again.
Liao Ping’an grunted, trying to lift his head, but Zhang imdiately stomped on it, pinning him to the ground.
No one around intervened; at most, they cast a few pitying glances at Liao Ping’an.
"Liao, perhaps you should leave teor Sword Villa. With this ghastly look of yours, you might scare the new disciples." Zhang laughed viciously, face contorted with malice.
The reason he enjoyed bullying Liao Ping’an wasn’t that he particularly hated him, but it gave him an indescribable thrill to see Liao Ping’an suffer.
Besides, he felt that even if Liao Ping’an died, nobody would care, justifying his bullying as resourcefully using up the useless.
Liao Ping’an still said nothing. Leave teor Sword Villa? He had thought about it, but leaving ant he couldn’t avenge his parents, so he would rather endure more suffering here.
"Stop staring, treat him as usual, but leave him alive. Otherwise, if he dies, there will be no fun left." Zhang dismissed to the crowd.
Everyone looked at each other, and most ended up punching and kicking Liao Ping’an, comfortably confident since Zhang led the way.
They were used to bullying Liao Ping’an and even found it quite interesting.
When night fell, Zhang left with his group, leaving Liao Ping’an thoroughly battered.
This ti, Liao Ping’an’s injuries were severe, blood pouring from his mouth, his internal organs wracked with pain.
His vision started to blur, the beating had never been this grave before, rendering him unable to rise.
"Am I going to die?" Liao Ping’an mumbled to himself, feeling bitterness, hatred, and unwillingness.
Liao Ping’an didn’t want to die with his parents unavenged and grudges unresolved; he refused to die here like this.
His unyielding will to survive kept him conscious, lying there with eyes wide open, even though his vision was blurry and his organs hurt unbearably; he endured with gritted teeth.
As days passed, no one ca to check on his survival, perhaps to his peers, whether he lived or died was irrelevant.
Yet, Liao Ping’an did not die; despite being on the verge of death, he clung to life.
When Mo Shouhe appeared before him, Liao Ping’an had been lying there for seven days.
"You didn’t disappoint ." Mo Shouhe said gently, waving a hand to place a Pill into Liao Ping’an’s mouth.
Swallowing the Pill, Liao Ping’an’s injuries healed instantly, his strength returning at once.
"Disciple greets Master!" Liao Ping’an knelt before Mo Shouhe, his voice firm and resolute.
"From now on, you will be called Liao Can Sheng."
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