Chapter 79: Helping People Is Its Own Reward
Chapter 79: Helping People Is Its Own Reward
Fang Jifan’s bullying finally made Tang Yin lose his temper.
Enough was enough!
Though maturity was setting in, Tang Yin still had his innate pride.
He drew himself up righteously. “And if I insist on leaving? At the Son of Heaven’s feet, how clear the world is… Hmph! Where laws exist…”
With that, he stepped forward to leave.
Fang Jifan felt utterly exasperated. He desperately wanted to warn Tang Yin: If you visit Cheng Minzheng with Xu Jing today, you won’t just ruin your future—you’ll end up in the Brocade Guard’s Imperial Prison. There, life will become torture, your family will abandon you, and you’ll never recover.
Fine. Since you’re determined to jump off the cliff, go ahead.
I’ve done all I can.
A cold smirk curled on Fang Jifan’s lips as he watched Tang Yin stride past, leaving only his back visible.
Fang Jifan stared coldly at this receding figure in the dim lamplight, noticing its lingering arrogance. For the first time, Fang Jifan thought pride made people unbearable. Yet… suddenly, another feeling washed over him. Wasn’t this pride just a mask for helplessness? An early father’s death, a family fallen from grace—the once-gifted, wealthy young man became a pauper, enduring scorn while barely scraping together funds to travel to the Capital. This Imperial Examination must be his last anchor, his only hope for redemption.
Years of hard study all hinged on this final leap.
Perhaps Tang Yin overflowed with hope now. And perhaps this was the last time his heart held real hope—because after this, it would vanish forever.
These thoughts raced through Fang Jifan’s mind in a flash.
Dammit… Fang Jifan cursed himself inwardly. Helping people is its own reward. I, Fang Jifan, am a good person. Must remember my core.
Seeing Tang Yin’s back near vanishing into the night, Fang Jifan bellowed furiously: “This is the Son of Heaven’s feet! But this world isn’t clear! I, Fang Jifan, am the law!”
Following his roar, Fang Jifan charged forward. Tang Yin spun around reflexively. Though physically stronger than the youthful Fang Jifan, the punch landed without warning—sharp eyes gleaming with the privileged brat’s arrogance met him. Shock flashed across Tang Yin’s face as Fang Jifan’s fist connected squarely with his nose.
Uh…
Tang Yin clutched his face and collapsed.
He stammered through pain, “No law? No law?”
Fang Jifan scoffed arrogantly. “I am the law!”
Then came the brutal scenes witnessed by eyes peeking through the inn’s cracks.
The Fang Family’s young lord rained down fists and kicks upon Provincial First Place Scholar Tang. Every punch sent shockwaves through Tang Yin’s body. Distant pedestrians scattered hastily.
Tang Yin suffered terribly—Fang Jifan held back nothing.
Deng Jian saw this and rushed over. The ever-faithful lackey swung too, straddling Tang Bohu and pummeling wildly.
Tang Yin never imagined refusing to humble himself would earn such savagery from this Capital thug. His bones felt battering rammed.
Rage surged through him. “No enmity between us! No enmity… Wuwu!”
At the scholar’s choice of lament—not a normal “Heavens!” but “Wuwu”—Fang Jifan felt combined fury and amusement. He’d finally grasped it: stopping Tang Yin today wouldn’t prevent tomorrow. The surest solution? Make him immobile before the Spring Imperial Examination. Bruised and broken—would he dare call on Cheng Minzheng then?
My violence saves your life!
Tang Yin now wept openly, screaming: “I see! I see! It’s you, Fang Jifan! You have three disciples who are Provincial Graduates! You fear I’ll steal your trio’s glory by acing the Grand Exam! This was deliberate harassment! How ruthless! How… vile!”
This seemed the only reasonable explanation.
Tang Yin did possess intelligence.
Now everything clicked.
Of course!
As Jiangnan’s top Provincial First Place Scholar, its brightest talent—which Northern Region scholar could surpass him?
Fang Jifan must fear this Jiangnan prodigy. That’s why this coward resorted to such baseness—to sabotage his examination chance.
Trembling with fury, Tang Yin swore the world held no creature more detestable.
Fang Jifan had to respect Tang Yin’s imagination. He laughed aloud: “Ha… You seriously compare yourself to my disciples?”
Crumpled on the ground now, Tang Yin became unrecognizable. He coughed violently, spitting blood and teeth. Gasping strenuously, he spat out another retort: “Hah… your scheme… will fail!”
Fang Jifan narrowed his eyes, seized by an idea, and growled coldly: “Fine. Then let’s wager. If my disciples outscore Tang Yin, you become my disciple.”
Proud by nature, Tang Yin uttered cold laughs. “And if you lose?”
So long as he could sit the Metropolitan Examination, Tang Yin trusted victory.
Fang Jifan answered promptly: “Then I’ll strangle those three disciples!”
“…” Words died in Tang Yin’s throat.
Mid-words, Fang Jifan stomped viciously onto Tang Yin’s shin.
Before Tang Yin could react, excruciating pain pierced up his leg.
A piercing scream tore through the air.
Just beneath it sounded the distinct crack of breaking bone.
His… leg snapped!
With skilled doctors and careful rest, recovery might take one, perhaps two months.
That outcome suited Fang Jifan perfectly. If Tang Yin stayed bedridden before the exam, bruises (like those all over his face) wouldn’t vanish quickly. As a respectable scholar, he wouldn’t risk showing his battered self. Visit Cheng Minzheng? Impossible.
Job done. Pack it up.
Relief washed over Fang Jifan, a pleasant glow of having helped someone warming him.
But at that moment—another angry shout erupted: “Under the Son of Heaven’s gaze! Who dares disturb peace? Who attacks others? Men! Don’t let this ruffian escape!”
The panicked roar came from Shuntian Prefecture officers, alerted to a scholar in Confucian robe and scholar’s scarf being beaten nearby. Scholars? Untouchable! A frantic squad charged towards the scene.
Their leader—a chief—wielded a disciplinary ruler menacingly. Officers behind him rolled sleeves, radiating arrogance.
Yet when this chief glimpsed Fang Jifan under flickering lamplight, he froze.
He didn’t recognize the youth. But the tiger-patterned uniform of Imperial Guard Military Officer? The ornate sword at the waist? Within Great Ming, few held such privilege—even Imperial Guard commandants only bore blades. And that brilliant gold belt screamed nobility.
Before he spoke—
Fang Jifan swept him an indifferent glance and asked smoothly: “I’m Fang Jifan. My father’s Fang Jinglong. Your name?”