Mockery & Malice

Rumei spoke, her tone steady and composed. "Tell him to wait. I'll speak to him after Shen leaves."

Bai responded, "Understood, Master."

Jiang barely registered their exchange, his mind spiraling.

Didn't that yandere say she poisoned Chen Feng? Then how the f-ck is he standing here like nothing happened?

Was it a slow-acting poison?

Or did it fail entirely? Does Chen have proof? If so, what will the Sect Elders do? 

Just what the hell is going on?

His fingers twitched before he pressed a hand over his mouth, his thoughts racing.

"Shen'er."

Silence.

"Shen'er."

Jiang didn't react.

"Shen'er."

The third call finally pulled him out of his thoughts. His eyes flicked to his aunt, her figure coming into focus as if he were only now realizing she was there.

"Aunt?" His voice came out absent, slightly disoriented. "Ah… sorry, I was thinking."

Rumei studied him, concern flickered in her eyes. Then, without a word, she stepped closer and rested a gentle hand against his cheek.

Jiang stiffened.

The warmth of her palm was gentle but unfamiliar to him. 

"Don't worry too much," she murmured, her voice as soft as her touch. "I'll figure something out."

A strange pang settled in his chest. Guilt?

It made no sense. Yet it lingered, clawing at the edges of his thoughts.

Then—

[Personality Speech Activated]

His body reacted before his mind could process it.

His posture straightened, his gaze sharpening. His hand moved, pushing Rumei's away—not harshly, but with a detached finality.

When he spoke, the words twisted, stripped of the warmth he had meant to convey.

"Okay."

He had meant to say thanks.

But the skill had turned it into something cold. Dismissive.

Without another glance, he turned, striding toward the door. He pulled it open.

And outside, he saw Bai, the female disciple who had brought him here, standing off to the side.

And behind her—

Chen Feng.

Jiang's gaze flicked over him in an instant, assessing.

His features had a certain softness to them—youthful, but not enough to dull their sharpness. There was something refined about him, the kind of person who carried himself with unwavering confidence. His frame was lean but well-proportioned, his junior disciple robes tailored neatly to his build, black fabric lined with intricate blue embroidery that shimmered faintly in the light.

But—

Jiang tilted his head slightly. What is he, 5'5?"

A smirk tugged at his lips.

"Damn," he meant to think, but the words slipped out before he could stop them. "You're fun-sized."

Chen Feng's face darkened instantly.

"Was poisoning me with a laxative not enough?" His voice was taut, irritation laced in every word. "Now you're mocking me too?"

Jiang blinked.

Wait. Laxative?

For a solid moment, he just stood there, staring. Processing.

Then—laughter.

It bubbled up before he could stop it, spilling out in sharp, unfiltered bursts.

All that time—wondering what kind of deadly poison had been used, what grand scheme had been set in motion—

And it was a f-cking laxative.

He tried to stifle it, but instead of a casual chuckle, it came out sharp. Mocking.

Chen Feng's expression twisted further.

"You don't even deserve the title of Senior Disciple."

Jiang's laughter faltered slightly, though amusement still lingered in his eyes.

This guy…

Chen was like a self-righteous protagonist type character. The kind that always acted like they were special—like their struggles meant more than anyone else's. A little naive. A little too proud.

And easy to provoke.

"Man, you really are something else," Jiang mused, leaning lazily against the doorframe. His crimson eyes gleamed with mischief. "You act like you're some kind of hero, but you're out here getting your ass handed to you by a glorified stomachache."

Chen's jaw tightened. His fingers twitched at his sides.

"At least I don't solve all my problems by hiding behind my family name."

Jiang arched his brow.

"Oh?" he drawled. "Then tell me, Junior Brotherrr—how exactly were you planning to deal with that 'poison' if it wasn't just a laxative?"

Chen scoffed. His frustration was already boiling over, his voice growing sharper.

"By relying on my own strength, not underhanded tricks like you."

Jiang grinned. Man, this is funny.

"Strength, huh? Is that what you call sitting on a latrine for three hours?"

Bai, standing off to the side, let out an abrupt, quiet laugh.

Chen's eyes twitched. His expression darkened further. If it had just been Jiang making fun of him, maybe he could have ignored it. Even Bai, usually so reserved and serious, had laughed too. His pride had taken a hit.

Chen took a step forward, his glare unwavering.

"You think this is funny?" His voice was louder now, sharp with anger. "You just throw your weight around because you can. You don't care who you trample, do you?"

"Trample?" Jiang's voice echoed, tilting his head slightly. "Brother Chen, if I recall correctly, I wasn't the one making dramatic accusations in the middle of the sect over a joke. It was just a harmless prank, but you're acting like you've been personally wronged by the heavens."

Chen's breathing grew heavier, his frustration reaching its peak.

And then—

His voice dropped lower.

"I bet you were the reason your mother, a kind and pure-hearted woman, died."

The atmosphere snapped. Silence.

Jiang's smirk vanished.

His face became eerily blank—devoid of amusement, devoid of emotion.

The air grew heavy. Thick. Suffocating.

Bai stepped back, as if instinctively distancing herself from what was about to unfold.

Then—Jiang laughed.

But this time, it wasn't amusement. It was something colder. Something wrong.

Are these old Jiang's emotions? Or mine?

He exhaled slowly, steadying himself.

...Well, it doesn't matter.

Because right now, I feel like absolute shit.

He took a step forward.

Chen Feng tensed.

Jiang loomed over him, taller, sharper, his presence suffocating. His crimson eyes gleamed with something dangerous as he reached out, placing a hand on Chen Feng's shoulder.

The touch was light. Barely there.

And yet—unshakable.

Then, he leaned in, his voice dropping to a near whisper, deliberate, and ice-cold.

"Perhaps I should pay the Chen family a visit."

Each word was measured, unhurried, as if he were entertaining a passing thought.

"I hope your parents will be... welcoming."

Chen's breath hitched. His fists clenched so tightly they trembled.

He bit his tongue. Not out of restraint, but because he knew—knew that any response, any defiance, would be meaningless against someone like Jiang.

Because no matter how much he preached strength and morality, Jiang was still an heir of the Jiang Clan—one of the few powers even the emperor had to tread carefully around.

Jiang pulled away, his lips curling into a lazy grin. He turned, walking past Chen with effortless confidence.

Bai bowed slightly in farewell.

Jiang strode away, laughter spilling from his lips—low at first, then tipping into something almost hysterical.

Having high status sure feels good.

He continued his laughter.

But then—

Ouch. Ouch.

He bit his tongue.

He clenched his jaw, trying to play it off, but the sting made his eye twitch. 

Exhaling sharply, he shook it off, his thoughts drifting back to Chen Feng.

Why had Chen even come here? Did he actually think Hall Master Rumei, old Jiang's aunt, would take his side?

That didn't make sense. Chen didn't seem that stupid. He clearly had a short temper, but he had swallowed Jiang's words about his family without lashing out.

The logic didn't add up.

Jiang's brow furrowed.

Then his thoughts shifted to Rumei.

In those fragmented memories, Jiang had seen Rumei being dismissed by the old Jiang, told that the branch family had no right to advise the direct heir.

That clearly placed her as a branch family member. But if she was also Jiang's mother's sister, then that didn't make sense.

The only explanation was that they weren't full sisters. If they were cousins, her connection to old Jiang wouldn't be this close. Then… was Rumei a concubine's child?

Was Old Jiang's mother originally from the core Jiang family? Someone who didn't live up to expectations and was married off? That wouldn't be surprising. And old Jiang's father must have taken the Jiang surname as a show of submission, which could have allowed old Jiang to be recognized as a direct heir...

Jiang exhaled through his nose.

Damn these memories.

It was like playing a game where the tutorial skipped the most important mechanics.

Whoever threw me into this mess—at least give me a proper background check!

The suspense was also starting to get ridiculous. 

And then—

[Congratulations]

Jiang stilled.

What now?

[The integration of "System" to the character window has been completed successfully]

[You may now view your profile by calling "Status Window"]

Come to think of it, there had been plenty of notifications earlier… but I didn't have the chance to check them properly.

Clearing his throat, he glanced around. Then, just to be safe, he muttered under his breath, "Status Window."

Nothing happened.

He frowned. "Status Window."

Still nothing.

His eyes twitched.

"…Status Window."

Silence.

Annoyance grew, along with his voice. 

"STATUS WINDOW."

A sharp flutter cut through the quiet.

Jiang flinched. Instinctively, his hands twitched upward, as if to shield himself from—something.

Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw birds perched on a nearby rooftop suddenly take off, wings flapping in panic.

What the…?

For a split second, his heart jumped at the unexpected sound. 

What the hell? Why isn't it working? Do I need to meet some extra conditions?

[Call "Status Window" in your mind]

Jiang froze.

These bastards. That was need-to-know information! 

You should have told me that beforehand. Fuc…

Suppressing the urge to curse, he called out in his mind—

Status Window