For some reason,
The old geezer Fei from Qingyang Valley was, after all, now his, Jiang Chen's, servant. This middle-aged fatty was clearly one of Fei's subordinates, and seeing him get insulted like that naturally rubbed Jiang Chen the wrong way.
Even when you beat a dog, you have to consider who its owner is, right?
This chubby middle-aged elder was from Qingyang Valley, one of Fei's men. And Fei was now Jiang Chen's servant. The servant of his servant — even without any formal title — Jiang Chen didn't want to see someone getting chewed out like a grandson right in front of him.
When Consort Dan spoke up, Han Xianke gave a reserved smile and took a step back. "Forget it. I don't like rubbing shoulders with losers. Let them take a look first. If they can handle it, then it's not a big problem. If they can't, I'll step in."
Sect disciples had all sorts of insufferable habits, but sometimes they also had a peculiar kind of pride. Just like Han Xianke now — he very generously let others go first.
Because he was a sect disciple, and he didn't want to huddle together with a bunch of worldly mediocrities. That would be beneath him.
He liked for everyone else to fail first, and then he would rise to the challenge, solve the problem in one fell swoop, and bask in their admiration and awe.
This was a bad habit almost every sect disciple shared.
The first to go up was the folk veterinarian Ye Zheng had invited. This fellow was also harboring a bit of opportunistic thinking, hoping to trade this for fame and fortune. He steeled his courage and stepped forward.
But before he could even get within three feet, the Fengjiao let out a low growl. The folk vet screamed "Ah!" and tumbled straight off, blood pouring from his mouth without end.
He was just a folk veterinarian with ordinary martial cultivation. Once a spirit beast's pressure flared up, how could he possibly withstand it? Naturally, he was sent flying and coughing up blood in an instant.
A mocking smile crept onto the corner of Han Xianke's mouth as he glanced toward the chubby elder from Qingyang Valley.
The fat elder from Qingyang Valley wore a bitter expression. He knew he was caught in an impossible situation now — he had to go up whether he liked it or not.
No matter what, he'd go up, take a look, put on a show of making a diagnosis, and whether it worked or not, at least he'd have made a round up there and could give the Second Prince some kind of account.
It had to be said that the Qingyang Valley elder did possess some real expertise. At the very least, he was strong enough to face the Fengjiao's pressure without being scared into vomiting blood.
He went through the steps of observing, listening, inquiring, and feeling the pulse. After finishing the routine, the fat elder rubbed his temples, spread his hands, and said: "Miss Consort Dan, there's nothing wrong with this spirit beast."
Consort Dan's face darkened. Nothing wrong? If nothing's wrong, then why did I call you here — to watch the show?
Old Master Ye sat to the side, silently shaking his head in frustration. This segment was something Consort Dan had insisted on adding on her own initiative. The old master hadn't really agreed with it. He didn't think these young people could solve anything. The only reason he hadn't objected was partly to spare Consort Dan's feelings and partly to try every remedy on a dying horse.
Everyone else was hopeless anyway — what harm was there in letting a few more quacks have a go?
"I called you a loser and you don't believe it? Why don't you get off the stage?" Han Xianke drifted gracefully down to the platform, grabbed the Qingyang Valley fatty, and tossed him off in one motion.
The sheer domineering nature of sect disciples was plain for all to see.
Fortunately, the fat elder had some martial cultivation to speak of. After being thrown off, he managed to land on his feet with a wobble and barely avoided a humiliating crash.
His face was deathly pale, and he sputtered furiously: "Second Prince, this is too much — it's bullying people outright!"
Ye Qiao also forced a bitter smile. "Let it go, let it go. Endure a moment of calm, retreat a step and the world opens up. Why don't you head back for now?"
The fat elder cocked his head to the side. "I'm not leaving. I want to see for myself exactly how skilled this so-called sect genius really is — to humiliate our Qingyang Valley people like this!"
Even a clay Buddha had a bit of temper. The fat elder had been thoroughly enraged by Han Xianke and was dead set on staying to observe.
If Han Xianke could solve the problem, he could quietly pick up a thing or two along the way.
If Han Xianke couldn't solve it, then this so-called sect genius was nothing but a loser too — no different from the Qingyang Valley people.
If they were all losers and none of them could handle the Fengjiao's problem, then on what grounds did he get to humiliate people?
Han Xianke really was arrogant, and he did have the skill to back it up. The moment he stepped up, the Fengjiao's agitation visibly eased.
Han Xianke's various probing techniques and diagnostic methods met with no real resistance.
It was clear that when it came to communicating with spirit beasts, Han Xianke at least had some experience. He hadn't provoked any strong backlash from the Fengjiao.
At this, even Consort Dan couldn't help but harbor a sliver of extra hope for Han Xianke.
But as time dragged on — half an hour passed, a full hour passed. Everyone's stomachs were growling like drums announcing an empty banquet, and Han Xianke still hadn't reached any conclusion.
This didn't sit well with the crowd below.
"Is he up to it or not? If not, just come down already. Half an hour's gone by — we're waiting to eat dinner here. Are we not hungry?"
"A sect disciple, and that's all he's got, apparently?"
"He was so cocky just now — I thought he had some special ability! Haha, turns out he's just a pretty pillow."
"The way he ragged on that Qingyang Valley elder a while ago, I nearly bought it. Thought he was some kind of genius. Looks like I was way too naive."