Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem-Chapter 794: Young Master [Bonus]

Chapter 794: Young Master [Bonus]

His hair, which was once perfectly oiled into a sleek topknot, was now stuck to his face with sweat. Despite the elegant jade ornament still dangling from his belt, he looked more like a tantrum-throwing child than a proud disciple of any great sect.

His eyes were bloodshot from the rage he felt at her betrayal. "Feng Jiai! You've been my woman ever since the moment our betrothal was announced!"

"That's not how it works, and you know it, Zhang Yong! You know you have to wait for me to come of age, yet…!!" Feng Jiai sobbed with a hoarse voice. "Yet you tried to force yourself upon me before the ceremony!"

"So what if I did?!" he screamed, reacting as if her protests were a personal insult. "You're already mine! Are you blind to my greatness? I, Zhang Yong, Fifth Young Master of the Seastone Clan, am a Meridian Opening Stage prodigy! Girls in the Outer Provinces would kill to be defiled by me!"

He raised a fist, trembling not with hesitation but anticipation. His lips curled upwards with badly hidden sadism as he screamed, "I'll discipline your rebellious spirit! Don't blame me for being heavy-handed! Useless women like you must be taught their lesson about obedience!"

*Khm.*

A sharp throat-clear cut through the air like a guillotine.

"Take my fist of discipline, you disobedient wench!" Zhang Yong hollered like an orangutan, with his fist stopping just inches from the girl's face as the sound reached his brain. Both Zhang Yong and Feng Jiai snapped their heads in the sound's direction.

To the side of the road, half-shadowed by the forest's edge, stood a man.

Ominous. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dressed in black with silver trim. His expression was equal parts unimpressed and nonchalant, as if he were watching two chickens fight over spilled rice.

Zhang Yong blinked numerous times in the span of a single second, but then, he managed to collect himself. He sneered.

"Who dares interrupt this Young Master's righteous act of chastisement?!"

The man didn't reply. He simply stared, one brow slightly raised, arms crossed over his chest.

Zhang Yong's lip twitched in frustration.

"Do you not know who I am? I am Zhang Yong! Personal disciple of Elder Shui! The fifth young master of the Seastone Clan! You think you can just stare at me like that without consequences? You're courting death!!"

The man sighed. An overly wry expression came over his face, as if he'd just drunk spoiled milk. "Oh dear… Don't tell me… this is one of those cultivation worlds, isn't it? Arrogant young masters. Nation-toppling jade beauties. Ping-pong ching-chong breakthrough stages..." He rubbed his temples and muttered under his breath. "My favorite Goddess, please, pull me back to Thalorind. I already miss your hypocritical but tender embrace…"

Zhang Yong's eye twitched so violently it was a wonder he didn't snap a vessel. "Have you gone mad?! I asked you a question! ANSWER ME, YOU INSOLENT FOOL!"

All of a sudden, the man stopped his incoherent muttering.

He looked up from the ground.

And everything changed.

The wry amusement in his eyes vanished. His smirk faded. The very air seemed to recoil from him. The weight of a thousand unspoken deaths pressed into the clearing like a storm cloud made of bones.

There was no more sarcasm. Only cold. Dead. Silence.

And when he finally spoke, it was not loud. It was not dramatic.

But it was final.

"Stop your screeching, you effeminate little twink."

Zhang Yong's mouth snapped shut like a trap.

Even Feng Jiai, still on the ground, felt her skin crawl. It wasn't the insult that chilled her. It was how casually he delivered it. Like violence was simply part of his daily routine. It felt in her heart as if she was staring at a cold-blooded mass murderer who had so much blood in his hands that a whole city could be drowned in it.

The young master stood up from the ground stiffly, red-faced and trembling. Not with power, but with the volatile cocktail of shame and impotent rage. He jabbed a finger toward the stranger as if trying to regain control through sheer noise.

"Y-You… You dare?! You dare to insult this Young Master with such vulgarity?! Have you no eyes?! No sense of self-preservation?!"

The man tilted his head. Slowly. As if weighing the value of Zhang Yong's life and finding it beneath trash.

Then he spoke.

"Do you even have the tool needed to assault a little girl like her?"

The air itself stilled.

Zhang Yong's jaw fell open in outrage with a sound strangled in his throat. No one had ever dared mock him like this. Not in public. Not to his face.

Feng Jiai, still lying in the dirt, blinked through her tears. That… that was a line she hadn't expected to hear in this situation.

"Y-Y-YOU-!!" Zhang Yong choked, face mottled with red and white blotches. "You dare slander the dignity of the fifth young master of the Seastone Clan?! I-I-my equipment is capable of making even the most promiscuous ladies of the night tremble before its might!"

"Sure, buddy."

Zhang Yong's qi flared. "I WILL BATHE IN YOUR BLOOD, YOU LOWBORN SCUM! I'LL-I'LL-KILL YOU!"

The man took a single step forward.

Zhang Yong stumbled back. He did it out of pure instinct. Nothing conscious about it. His body reacted before his mind could catch up.

Feng Jiai sucked in a breath, heart pounding. The temperature hadn't dropped, but she felt colder. Whoever this man was… he hadn't drawn a weapon. Hadn't unleashed qi. But the way the wind curled around him, the way the shadows clung to his form—it was as if the heavens were holding their breath.

Zhang Yong opened his mouth, then shut it. He tried again. Nothing came out.

"…Y-You'll regret this! The Seastone Clan won't forget this insult. You'll…! Hmph!!!" he finally declared with a voice that was weak and brittle.

Zhang Yong spun on his heel, but the effect was ruined as his foot clipped a stone, sending him staggering before he caught himself. With a stream of curses and wounded pride trailing behind, Zhang Yong vanished into the trees.

Or so he would've preferred to.

As he began running away, the man's deep, masculine voice rang behind him.

"I don't remember giving you permission to leave."

...

Author: Please read the note below.