The crowd around the platform fell silent. Just moments earlier, Fang Li had been running and taking blows without returning any; he had seemed exhausted and on the verge of collapsing. Now the situation was different.

  The scarred disciple threw a direct punch to his chest, but Fang Li slid to the side with a clean movement. His hand closed and he responded with a short strike to the other's ribs. The impact was dry and the air left the disciple's lungs violently. Before he could readjust his stance, Fang Li had already changed angles; his foot struck the back of the opponent's knee and the other's body tilted forward out of control. A direct kick to the rear pushed him another step, drawing nervous laughter from some spectators.

  "Hey," Fang Li said in a light tone as he advanced, "weren't you supposed to be beating me up?"

  The disciple turned in rage and tried to counterattack. Fang Li intercepted the arm, deflected it with his forearm and responded with a strike to the abdomen.

  "Maybe it would be a good idea for you to run in circles," he continued while moving around him with firm steps. "It worked pretty well for me a moment ago."

  The disciple launched a side kick. Fang Li took half a step back, let the attack cut through the air and entered again with a strike to the ribs; this time the sound was more forceful. The disciple's face began to tense. He did not understand how, just moments ago, Fang Li could not oppose him and now he was the one unable to do anything.

  Fang Li smiled as he pressed forward.

  "Look," he added with false concern, "why don't you try a little harder? I'm starting to think you're tired."

  The disciple clenched his teeth and charged with all his weight in a desperate attempt. Fang Li pivoted on his heel, let the other's momentum unbalance him and placed his foot behind his ankle; a push on the shoulder was enough for the disciple to drop to his knees on the stone.

  A murmur ran through the crowd. Some looked at each other; others frowned, trying to understand what they were seeing. How had things reversed like this? The young man who had been running to survive moments ago was nowhere to be found.

  "Come on," Fang Li said with irritating calm. "Don't tell me we're already finished."

  The disciple looked up in disbelief and rage, and tried to stand. Fang Li rolled his shoulder to release accumulated tension and watched him stagger a step back. The silence was no longer mockery; it was uncertainty.

  While evaluating how much more he could press without exaggerating, a notification appeared in his vision.

  —Detecting that the opponent's pride is wounded.

  A new window unfolded.

  [ Mission unlocked: Public Domination. ]

  Condition: Establish unquestionable superiority before at least 70% of the witnesses.

  Base reward: 800 Beating Points.

  Multiplier for effective verbal humiliation.

  Fang Li blinked once and then again.

  Hmm.

  So something like that can happen, huh.

  His gaze slowly shifted toward the scarred disciple, who was breathing with difficulty, rage and confusion mixed on his face. Fang Li tilted his head slightly, studying him.

  How sad.

  He had thought to knock him unconscious quickly and spare him more pain. But now…

  His eyes swept across the crowd. Some still looked at him with skepticism; a couple whispered, visibly unsettled. The corner of his lips rose slowly.

  The disciple took an awkward step toward him, trying to recover the initiative. Fang Li looked at him with an almost compassionate expression.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Truly what bad luck you have.

  The smile on his face became slightly more pronounced, and for some reason that was what unsettled the disciple. He felt it before understanding it: a bad premonition ran down his spine. The crowd sensed it as well; the murmur lowered in intensity and some swallowed without knowing why.

  Fang Li moved.

  It was not an exaggerated leap nor a flashy technique. It was a short and clean displacement; in a blink he was in front of the disciple. Surprised, the scarred one tried to react, but his posture was still misaligned. Fang Li's fist sank into his stomach and the air left his lungs in a dry, muffled sound. His knees gave way and his torso bent forward instinctively.

  Fang Li stepped forward once more and extended his arm; his hand closed on the collar of the other's robe, just below the clavicle. He held firmly, preventing him from falling.

  For a second the platform fell into absolute silence. Many thought it ended there, that it would be a clean strike and a clear victory.

  But Fang Li did not release him.

  He calmly raised his arm and his open palm descended with a sharp sound.

  Smack!

  The slap echoed on the stone. The disciple's face snapped violently to one side. The sound was more humiliating than painful. An incredulous murmur ran through the crowd; some were left with their mouths half open. Even the disciple himself forgot for an instant the pain in his stomach. His eyes widened in disbelief, not because of the blow, but because of the slap. In a fight between outer disciples, that was not a technique.

  The red mark had barely begun to form when indignation exploded on his face.

  "How dare you—?"

  Smack!

  The second slap fell before he could finish. His head snapped to the opposite side. Fang Li still held him by the robe, preventing him from stepping back.

  "Alright, my son," he said in a calm tone, "how dare you speak to your father in that tone of voice?"

  The silence that followed was heavier than any blow. Several disciples opened their eyes wide and, a second later, indignation erupted.

  "That's too much!""What kind of fight is that?!""He has no martial ethics!"

  One thing was exchanging blows; something very different was humiliating the opponent like that.

  The scarred disciple trembled with rage. He tried to free his arm to counterattack, but Fang Li gave him no space.

  Smack!

  "I, your father, will teach you manners."

  The youth struggled and threw a short punch with his free arm. Fang Li slightly leaned his torso, avoided the attempt and responded with another slap.

  Smack!

  "Who is your father?"

  The disciple tried to speak again.

  Smack!

  "I am."

  The slaps were not complex techniques, but each one echoed on the platform and drew a different reaction from the crowd: rage, disbelief, shared humiliation. The disciple kept trying to break free at first, but his breathing became disordered and his pride began to crumble in front of everyone.

  Fang Li continued administering the slaps with almost pedagogical calm. At first the crowd reacted with open indignation; several protested and murmured with looks full of rejection. However, the slaps kept falling one after another and the sound stopped being scandalous and became rhythmic.

  The disciple stopped trying to counterattack. His arms hung down and his body remained upright only because Fang Li held him. The red mark on his face no longer distinguished one cheek from the other.

  The anger in the spectators gradually faded and was replaced by something else. No one spoke of martial ethics anymore; the word that began to circulate in whispers was a single one.

  Cruel.

  Fang Li kept striking with a calm expression, although his hand was beginning to ache. The burning in his palm was evident; repeated impact against the same face was not comfortable.

  How much longer?

  Just as the pain was starting to become annoying, a notification appeared before his eyes.

  [ Mission completed. ]

  [ Base reward: 800 Beating Points. ]

  [ Calculating multiplier for verbal humiliation… ]

  [ Applying multiplier x5.4 ]

  [ You have obtained 4,320 Beating Points. ]

  Fang Li blinked once and finally loosened his grip. The disciple fell seated onto the stone platform and did not move or speak; he stared ahead with an empty expression, as if still trying to understand at what moment everything had gone so wrong.

  Fang Li observed him for one more second. For a very brief instant he felt slight discomfort.

  Maybe I went a bit too far.

  Another notification appeared.

  [ Opponent defeated. ]

  [ +300 Beating Points. ]

  The discomfort disappeared. His smile returned, shameless.

  He turned toward the crowd with a relaxed posture, as if he had just finished a routine activity.

  "Anyone else want a practice fight?"

  There was silence. No one answered. Some looked away; others pretended not to have heard.

  Fang Li slightly tilted his head.

  "Uhm. What cowardly and boring people," he said in a reflective tone. "I promise I'll be compassionate and guide my fellow disciples so we can improve together."

  Anger flared again on several faces, but no one stepped onto the platform nor dared to respond. Fang Li observed them for another second, as if he were genuinely disappointed, and then stepped down calmly. He crossed the yard without hurry while gazes followed him until he left the training area.

  He did not look back. He walked back toward his cabin.

  After all, he now had new points to allocate.