Sensing the explosive hostility within the courtyard, Jiang Chen remained utterly unmoved.
After all, a dragon does not dwell with snakes.
By nature, these Grade D martial artists were beneath his notice. Had the rules not dictated otherwise, he would never have shared a roof with such sect-class martial artists.
Circumstances forced his hand, and though he had no wish to be here, he wouldn't reject the situation either.
As for their hostility — could it possibly intimidate Jiang Chen?
He gave the door a light push with his toe, swinging it open. A glance inside revealed a fairly spacious courtyard.
Four sides of the courtyard held two rooms each — eight in total, clearly meant for eight martial artists, one room per person.
He was about to step inside when a broad figure strode up to block his path, barking: "Who do you think you are? How dare you barge into the martial artists' living quarters?"
The gruff voice belonged to the one they called Brother Hu.
Jiang Chen's gaze drifted past him with cool indifference. The other six residents of the courtyard were all present. The remaining five had fanned out to both sides, forming an arc that subtly blocked the way forward.
"Deaf, are you? I'm talking to you!" Brother Hu bristled at Jiang Chen's nonchalant expression, which made it seem like he couldn't even be bothered to look at him.
The arrogance that sect disciples carried with them flared up as though he had suffered some unfathomable insult. His face flushed with rage.
"And who might you be?" Jiang Chen replied evenly. "Ever heard the saying — a good dog doesn't block the path? Standing here in the doorway like this, those who know better understand you live here. Those who don't might mistake you for a guard dog."
He smiled faintly, then furrowed his brow slightly and flicked his sleeve as though brushing away an annoying fly, snapping: "Step aside. Don't block my way."
Brother Hu was a hulking, imposing figure. Seeing Jiang Chen flick his sleeve, he sneered menacingly, ready to teach the newcomer a lesson.
But the instant that sleeve swept forward, Brother Hu felt as though a mountain had come crashing down in front of him. His breath hitched, and before he knew it, he had stumbled several steps to the side entirely of his own volition.
The way he shuffled aside looked almost as if he were complying with Jiang Chen's command — told to move, he obediently moved.
Jiang Chen strolled past him and remarked with a faint smile: "Glad to see you've got some sense."
Brother Hu's face turned beet red. He let out a gasp before he could finally catch his breath. In that moment, he couldn't even figure out what had just happened.
He roared: "Kid, you stop right there!"
Jiang Chen took a few more steps, only to find that the other five sect disciples in the courtyard still blocked his path. Every angle was sealed off. There was clearly no intention of letting him pass.
Jiang Chen came to an abrupt halt, standing at the center of the courtyard. A slight smile played at the corner of his lips as he surveyed those around him.
He crossed his arms over his chest and said lightly: "Well then, who calls the shots in this place?"
He could tell that this Brother Hu was nothing more than a hothead — someone egged on by others to play the provocateur. The real leader of this courtyard was certainly not this fellow. A reckless brute with brawn but no brains could never lead.
Jiang Chen's gaze swept the group and settled on a pale-skinned young man to the south.
This one had maintained an indifferent expression throughout, carrying a faint smile and a look of haughty contempt in his eyes. That air of aristocratic pride and superiority was practically the textbook model of a sect disciple.
This man, Jiang Chen was certain, was the true leader of the courtyard.
Sure enough, when Jiang Chen's eyes locked onto him, everyone else's gazes followed.
Jiang Chen was now fully certain — this was the one who truly held power here.
The young man met Jiang Chen's stare and furrowed his brow slightly, clearly displeased by that brazen scrutiny. He seemed to consider Jiang Chen's gaze a deep personal affront.
"A mortal-world martial artist who doesn't know his place, daring to look me over like that — truly a country bumpkin with no manners!"
With a light hmph, the young noble spoke in an unhurried tone: "I hear the top ten from the mortal world were assigned to the Mystic Spirit Area. Lucky them. But tell me — did the preliminary examiners not teach you how to behave in the advancement round? Did they not teach you that when facing sect disciples, you ought to tuck your tail between your legs and stay obedient?"
"It seems that during the preliminary rounds, you lords of the mortal world had your little moments in the spotlight. You've carried that sense of superiority right into the advancement round, haven't you?"
The young noble's smile was cold, his gaze sharp as he stared down Jiang Chen, his voice flat and detached.
"Now, perk up your ears. This young master will give you a proper lesson on behalf of all sect disciples. Mortal-world martial artists are mortal-world martial artists in the end. By fate's design, you were born to wallow in the mundane world. Even if luck brings you into a sect, you'll only ever be at the very bottom — trampled underfoot, used as background scenery, at everyone's beck and call. Remember this: whether here or in a sect, you will always be one rank lower!"
The young noble raised one hand and continued: "Now, I will announce the five rules of this courtyard."
"Rule one — the two of you take those two rooms at the north end. Without our permission, you are never to approach any other part of the courtyard."
"Rule two — from now on, all menial labor in this courtyard falls to the two of you."
"Rule three — your monthly stipends and rewards must all be handed over to me."
"Rule four — here, you are servants. You come when summoned. Fail to show up once, and you kneel in punishment. Fail twice, and you get beaten. Fail three times — you die!"