Taming the bully

"Have you heard? There is a new disciple? I've heard he got in through the back door," a female gossiped to her friends as they walked down the pathway leading to the library amidst the other disciples dispersed all over the large compound.

Her two companions giggled delicately.

"He must be from a wealthy family," the second one chipped in.

"How does he look? Is he-"

"Shh!" The first girl quieted them upon recognizing Han and another young man right ahead, also heading for the library.

"That's him. He was assigned to Han."

The three girls stopped and studied Surrdon from his back view. His silver was tied back into a long ponytail, held up by a black band that contrasted its color.

Its edges danced gracefully on his back, swinging from side to side with his every stride.

The three girls whimpered and swooned at the mere sight of his back;

"He's so tall."

"He looks so handsome."

"I want to see his face."

They giggled as they ran, hoping to catch up with the two young men. Their only interest was in Surrdon. To them, it was nearly impossible for the outer court to have a handsome young man. They didn't mind that he was weak, they just needed to confirm if his face was as attractive as his face.

Surrdon felt something nearing from behind. It was getting closer and closer, raising an alarm of a potential threat. He didn't want to turn around in fear of facing a horrendous monster, so he gave in to the warm sensation coming from his abdomen and traveling to his back like a wave.

The wave left his body in a white mana outburst that cut through the air in a blunt semicircle. It knocked off anyone and anything within a distance of two yards.

Like a strong log had been thrown at the three girls, they were sent flying through the air, screaming as they fell.

The notice board that had been near the library entrance was knocked down, its poles shattered to miserable pieces.

The entire compound came to a standstill. Prying eyes fell on the females on the ground, writhing and groaning in pain.

What had happened?

Nobody seemed to know.

Surrdon and Han turned around, only to see the wriggling young women still wailing in pain as they clutched their stomachs and chests. He tensed up, his throat running dry almost instantly.

From up in the air, a patrolling disciple came flying into the compound on a shiny sword, his eyes hardening on the disciples yet to get off the ground. His copper-brown hair swayed to his movements and his gray swordsmanship robes romanced with the wind as he flew through the air majestically.

"What happened?" He asked stepping off his sword and onto the ground.

One of the three whimpering girls raised her hand to him, suddenly intensifying her pain to gain Shanteng's sympathy. Not every day an inner disciple happened to show up in the outer court, an attractive powerful one at that.

Shanteng sympathized with them, but his true intention for helping them off the ground was not pure. He loved bathing in praises from the other disciples and hated mingling with the average ones in the outer court. He had only shown up here from the strong mana fluctuation he had detected as he patrolled the air.

With a proud smile on his face, he offered his consolation to the girls, "You'll feel better, I swear I'll bring the person who has assaulted you to justice."

Surrdon watched in awe. How could the girls not see through Shanteng's mask of pretense? Surrdon could feel the hostility the inner disciple carried with him as he came in contact with the girls. The disgust in Shanteng's eyes could not be hidden from him. But, he chose not to expose the proud disciple. After all, he was not here to play the hero who saves the damsels in distress.

"Let's go in," he mentioned to Han as he turned for the library doors with an indifferent expression on his face.

"Stop there!" Shanteng ordered, but Surrdon ignored him.

Maybe if he had been an honest man, Surrdon would have listened to him, but he was a selfish self-centered being with the desire to be worshipped. "I said stop right there!"

"Su-Surrdon?" Han called in a terrified whisper. "He's calling for you. You should answer him. Shanteng is among the top ten inner disciples."

Surrdon grimaced.

What made the inner disciples so special?

Their low-level mana? Or their average internal force?

He had seen better and stronger disciples in the game, a contradiction to the real world.

Ignoring Shanteng for the second time, Surrdon stepped into the library through the open doors. An action that agitated Shanteng to the extreme.

"How dare you?" Shanteng yelled thrusting his hand forward to release three mana swords at Surrdon.

"Master!" Azron cried out from her hiding, before materializing between Surrdon and the swords. A large blue array appeared in front of the girl with her life sigil at the center. It absorbed all the swords, but the energy from Shanteng immediately attacked her.

Azron collapsed on the ground coughing out blood as the array vanished. Her power had been corrupted.

"Azron?" Surrdon snapped falling on one knee beside his maid.

"Where has this stupid girl come from? You think you can defeat me by absorbing my power?" Shanteng cackled evilly.

The female disciples he had helped all backed away, suddenly sensing a negative aura in his magic.

"How are you feeling?" Surrdon inquired softly as he helped Azron to her feet.

"Master, I should have-" she coughed out more blood, spattering it on Surrdon's chest. "Master I'm sorry," she cried snapping away from him but he stopped her.

"It's okay. Only a little bit of blood."

"Are you two done with your sickening display of affection? You're in the public dammit!" Shanteng shouted, intending to embarrass the two.

Surrdon ignored him for a few seconds, handing Azron over to Han. "Take her in, I'll deal with him."

"But he-"

Surrdon glared at him, "Take. Her. Inside."

An aura of cold dominance seeped from the silver-haired young male and into Han, leaving his core feeling like a layer of ice had coated it. "I will." Han nodded and walked the weak female into the library.

By then, a crowd had already gathered around them, whispering and spectating the show with anticipation. Everyone loved a good fight.

"You hurt her," Surrdon spat, a murderous flicker in his eyes, his feet walking towards Shanteng.

"She jumped in the way, everyone saw it."

"So you wanted to hurt me?"

Surrdon halted in front of Shanteng, his usually attractive face covered by a murderous mask that made him appear extremely lethal.

Shanteng leaned forward and smirked when no one else could see his expression. "She got greedy and absorbed my chaotic mana," he whispered teasingly.

The last of Surrdon's restrain snapped. He sent his fist flying up to Shanteng's abdomen using as much strength as he could gather. Azron had been harmed while protecting him. She was the only person who had stood up for him in both lives. She was selfless, it didn't matter whether she knew not of his identity. She was loyal. And loyal subjects deserved to be treated with all the respect the heavens could offer.

The blow was enhanced by his mana.

Its force penetrated Shanteng's skin and into his insides. It shattered a few ribs and cut through a mana vein before seeping into his spine and spreading all over like poison.

Shanteng's eyes bulged out. His body suddenly felt strange and alien. He wanted to move, to attack, to do anything. But he felt frozen in place.

"That's for Azron," Surrdon whispered heartlessly and stepped back. His eyes watched the immobilized Shanteng whose skin had turned a shade paler. From the corners of his mouth, blood began dripping from them, then turned into a strong flow that spilled on his own clothes, his shoes, and onto the stoneground.

Some of the blood splattered on Surrdon's shoes, making him feel disgusted.

In his previous life, he hated the sight of blood, but the disgust he was feeling right now was for the person the blood was coming from.

"Dirty," Surrdon muttered.

Without a warm spec of emotion on his face, he took off his shoes and tossed them at the male standing awkwardly with blood flowing from his mouth due to his internal injuries.

Whispers. Gasps. Mutters.

All rose from the crowd still watching. They dared not breathe a word at Surrdon, lest they be the next mortal rock fixed on their feet like Shanteng.