Chapter Twenty-One: Altering the Plot

Chapter Twenty-One: Revising the Storyline

A deathly silence enveloped the scene.

The Beggar Sect disciples stood frozen, not daring to move a muscle, terrified that any attention from Shi Bai would make them the next victim. Ye Ying’er’s classmates were equally dumbfounded. “Wasn’t he supposed to have no inner strength? How could he unleash such a devastating technique?”

Shangguan Yunfei and Wang Zhongtian were both in shock, especially Wang Zhongtian, who shivered at the memory of his earlier words and actions toward Shi Bai.

Suddenly, Lin Xiaoqian gave Ye Ying’er a push. “Ying’er, this is your fault! Why didn’t you tell us Shi Bai was so formidable?”

Ye Ying’er was just as astonished. “How could you say I didn’t tell you? You simply wouldn’t believe me!” She gazed at Shi Bai’s back. Though he looked somewhat slender, there was an inexplicable sense of reliability about him. Her eyes softened.

Shi Bai walked up to Wu Changfeng, finding him immobile, his face pale and streaked with blood, terror etched in every feature.

“You… how do you know… the Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms!”

“What?!” gasped the crowd. “The Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms? Does such a martial art truly exist? Wasn’t it lost to the world long ago?”

Though the martial world still existed, it was but a shadow of its former glory, and legendary techniques like the Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms had long since faded into myth.

“Heavens! What am I witnessing?”

“My life has not been in vain!”

Ye Ying’er covered her mouth. No wonder he was so fearless. She had always known Shi Bai was strong, but never imagined he was this powerful.

“The Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms… My goodness! Grandfather was absolutely right! Shi Bai truly is a man touched by the divine!”

Shangguan Renjie’s face turned ashen. With a technique like the Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms, he would never be able to surpass Shi Bai. The memory of his own arrogance—mocking Shi Bai as a mere fruit vendor—was laughable now.

Shi Bai smiled faintly. “I don’t know any Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms. I just struck out at random, and somehow a dragon appeared.”

Another wave of astonishment swept through the crowd.

Was this even human speech? If a casual strike of yours produces a legendary martial art, what are we, who have spent decades in hard training, supposed to feel?

“Could the gap between people truly be this vast?” Some began to question their own existence.

But only Shi Bai knew the truth—he had simply activated a quest and let the Chief Qiao possess him for a while.

Wu Changfeng’s face was twisted with disbelief. “I refuse to believe it! The Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms have been lost for centuries. Where did you learn it?”

Shi Bai looked baffled. Where did he get it? How could he answer that? He sneered, “From television.”

More gasps. Television? You can learn peerless martial arts from TV?

Wu Changfeng wanted to say more, but Shi Bai suddenly struck, tapping several points on his chest with force. “I hear you’re a notorious lecher? Sorry, but I’ve crippled your martial arts.”

“You!” Wu Changfeng’s eyes bulged as he spat out a mouthful of blood and immediately fainted.

The crowd was speechless. Just a few casual taps and a man’s martial arts were destroyed—such legendary mastery was beyond their comprehension.

Shi Bai dusted off his hands and stood up. “All right, problem solved. Let’s go home.”

Ye Ying’er and the others fell silent, suddenly transformed into timid chicks trailing closely behind Shi Bai, a stark contrast to their earlier swagger.

Once Shi Bai and his group had gone, the Beggar Sect members dared approach Wu Changfeng. An old beggar pinched the pressure point under his nose. Thankfully, he was still alive.

Wu Changfeng, his breath faint, murmured, “Hurry… take me back to Nanzhuang. I have urgent news for the chief.”

The Beggar Sect disciples nodded, quickly lifted him, and vanished into the night.

Soon after, Shi Bai and his companions returned as well. When he escorted Ye Ying’er home, she lowered her head and whispered, “Thank you.”

Shi Bai smiled gently. “It was nothing.” With a light chuckle, he added, “I’ll be off now, my people are coming to pick me up. Goodbye.”

Ye Ying’er wanted to say more, but Shi Bai was already walking away, leaving her to watch his retreating figure and sigh softly.

The night was deep and still, the crescent moon a silent hook in the sky. By the time Shi Bai returned to the hotel, it was already eleven. Feeling somewhat weary, he washed quickly and went straight to sleep.

The next morning, he rose early—not for any particular reason, but simply to check on the story revisions his staff had made. But when he opened his computer, he saw not a single word had changed. He was immediately furious.

Without hesitation, he called Zhang Dachui. He hadn’t wanted to be so direct, but after an entire day without progress, this was too much.

“Hello, yes, Zhang Dachui?” Shi Bai paced the hotel in his silk pajamas, phone pressed to his ear.

“What on earth is going on over there? Didn’t I say yesterday to revise the story? Why, after a whole day, hasn’t a single word changed?”

On the other end, Zhang Dachui replied nervously, “President Shi, it’s not that we didn’t try. It’s just… we argued about it all day and still couldn’t grasp your intent. We were afraid to make mistakes, so we didn’t touch it.”

Shi Bai closed his eyes in exasperation. “You people… really…”

Ready to explode, he suddenly remembered his past life as an employee. Bosses could be inscrutable—one moment this, the next that—while their subordinates ran circles below.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. “All right, I won’t be teaching today. I’ll come to the company and help you revise the story myself.”

Zhang Dachui hastily agreed. Shi Bai hung up.

Skipping school was easy enough; he simply had to set himself a new private task.

After washing up and having a simple breakfast at the hotel, Shi Bai dressed and went to the conference room to await everyone’s arrival.

At nine sharp, the employees arrived at the company. Shi Bai turned on the projector and began an impromptu lesson.

“You don’t know how to revise it? Then let me teach you.” He projected the story onto the big screen.

“Let’s look at the very first sentence.”

He pointed with his pen: The protagonist is named Zhang Xiaofeng, orphaned from a young age, but fortunately raised by an old farmer.

“Zhang Xiaofeng? Don’t you think that sounds a little too pleasant?” Shi Bai said. “We want something trashy, not pleasant, understand?”

He turned around. “Just call him Zhang Dog.”

“Pfft!” The employees burst out laughing. “President Shi! Are you joking?” a female employee couldn’t help but ask.

Shi Bai turned to her, face stern. “Who’s joking? Do I look like someone who’s joking?” He shot a fierce glare at the rather attractive woman.

The room fell silent.

“Let’s continue,” Shi Bai said. “‘Orphaned from a young age, but fortunately raised by an old farmer.’ So his parents are dead, but he’s lucky enough to be raised by an old farmer? That’s way too compelling! Everyone knows old farmers are usually nothing special. You’ve planted a great hook here, you know?”

He added coldly, “Change it to being raised by a dog.”