Chapter 27 Go Ahead! Your Father Supports You!

No! Father, how could you put me in such a spot? Ji Huo glared at his father, only to see Ji Xiaoxiong had already moved a little farther away, his face wearing an expression of surprise as he looked at him. Before Ji Huo could speak, Ji Xiaoxiong was already shouting loudly:

"That’s my son! A true warrior faces any challenge head-on! Go forth! Your father supports you!"

A sudden commotion erupted among the civil and military officials. Upon hearing that this was the son of General Flying Bear, their excitement became palpable.

Father, this is too much… Ji Huo cursed inwardly.

"Oh? So you are General Flying Bear’s son? I’ve heard that Young Master Ji is frail and unversed in martial arts," You Zhuo remarked with a look of contempt, his tone careless.

In truth, he had come with the intention of testing General Flying Bear’s son. His own teacher, General Feilian, frequently mentioned Ji Xiaoxiong, and would often recall the glorious day he booted Ji Xiaoxiong in the rear. But rumor had it that Ji Xiaoxiong’s son was a scholar without martial prowess, renowned for his virtue, a reputation so widespread it had reached Liang. Only for this reason did You Zhuo refrain from provoking him.

"Sorry, I’m my father’s second son. We were separated for many years; I grew up in the northwest and only returned to the capital yesterday," said Ji Huo as he set down his clay-roasted chicken, clapped the crumbs from his hands, and stood up, grinning. He then winked at Hu Fu, who was busy devouring his meal beside him.

"Pfft! Cough, cough!" Hu Fu choked on a mouthful of meat, coughing violently, his eyes wide with terror as he stared at Ji Huo.

"Oh? So that’s the case!" You Zhuo’s face lit up with excitement, just as he was about to speak further, Hu Fu urgently grabbed his arm.

"Senior Brother, can we talk about this later?" You Zhuo impatiently brushed off Hu Fu’s hand and said, "Since that’s so—"

Hu Fu’s hand landed on him again. Annoyed, You Zhuo pushed him off, frowning. "Junior Brother, what are you doing?"

Hu Fu’s face reddened as he strained to speak, finally managing, "Senior Brother, perhaps peace is best. Let’s… let’s not compete today." He kept winking frantically, trying to send a desperate signal.

You Zhuo’s brow furrowed. "Is something the matter?"

"Well..." At this moment, Hu Fu was full of regret. Earlier, out of embarrassment, he hadn’t told his Senior Brother about being kicked into a wall by someone here. He’d assumed it was just a run-in with some eccentric, never expecting to encounter this harbinger of doom in the court.

"If you’ve got something to say, spit it out. General Flying Bear’s son is waiting," You Zhuo said impatiently, eager to start the match and prove his worth by besting the general’s son.

"I… I have a stomachache!" Hu Fu’s face turned as red as a tomato. Not being good with words, he finally seized upon a reasonable excuse: "Yes! My stomach hurts! Must be the change in water and soil; the pain is unbearable!"

With that, he plopped down, clutching his stomach and groaning in distress.

"This..." You Zhuo was momentarily speechless—his junior brother had just eaten his way through a roast goose, two chickens, and a leg of lamb. He’d probably eaten too fast and gotten a cramp.

The officials exchanged glances, quickly realizing that Hu Fu clearly recognized Ji Huo, and likely didn’t have fond memories of him.

A suppressed chuckle escaped someone, and then laughter rippled through the hall. Though the reason wasn’t clear to all, the mood was thoroughly buoyant.

"If he’s unwell, then let’s not compete. Let’s just eat," Ji Huo shrugged. He’d only been called in to handle the situation; now that he’d scared his opponent off, he had no desire to fight.

"Hold it!" You Zhuo called out, snapping open his folding fan with a flourish and raising his voice. "Then allow me to spar with Young Master Ji!"

"Senior Brother! Wait—don’t!" Hu Fu tried to stop him, abandoning his feigned illness in his anxiety.

"Be quiet!" You Zhuo shot him a glare. Hu Fu could only sit back down, lips trembling, eyes glazed with despair.

It’s over.

"Are you sure?" Ji Huo asked.

"Of course! To be frank, my teacher often speaks of General Flying Bear, hoping for a rematch. I too have long wished to exchange pointers with the general’s protégés, but it’s said he never took on disciples—a great regret," replied You Zhuo, eyes shining, his aura intensifying.

"Now that the opportunity’s here, I won’t let it slip away," he declared, bowing to Ji Huo with the classic martial salute of the pugilist world.

"Please instruct me, Young Master Ji!" His tone brimmed with fighting spirit. Originally, You Zhuo had come only to embarrass Great Zhou; there was no need to act personally. But as he spoke, his blood began to race. If General Flying Bear’s son was here, then he could defeat him fair and square!

"Who’s stronger, you or him?" Ji Huo nodded toward Hu Fu, who immediately resumed clutching his stomach and groaning.

"Junior Brother joined our master with some skills already, but I was raised by our teacher since childhood," You Zhuo replied.

"Understood," Ji Huo answered, returning the martial salute with casual ease.

From the way Ji Huo performed the salute, You Zhuo’s eyes narrowed. He had worried that this second son, having spent years away, might not have inherited General Flying Bear’s true legacy. But this gesture assured him: this was a worthy adversary.

"Clear the space, clear the space! Make room!" The Grand Preceptor, eager for excitement, called out. Without waiting for the guards, the assembled officials cheerfully pushed tables aside.

The Crown Prince and the Fourth Prince exchanged glances, both secretly relieved. The old Emperor lounged with his cheek resting on his hand, a faint smile gracing his lips as he watched the sudden burst of liveliness in the grand hall.

Once the space was cleared, You Zhuo cupped his fists and advanced, his figure surging forward. His folding fan shot straight toward Ji Huo as he shouted, "Take this!"

“Smack!” The fan was caught in Ji Huo’s grasp, abruptly halting You Zhuo’s momentum.

"You practice iron body arts?" You Zhuo exclaimed in surprise.

Hu Fu was already hiding his face in embarrassment.

“Damn!” You Zhuo roared, suddenly launching a kick aimed at Ji Huo’s temple.

To the onlookers, it happened in a blur—this envoy from Liang, General Feilian’s top disciple, was sent flying, landing in a heap beside Hu Fu.

"Senior Brother, are you alright?" Hu Fu hurried to help him up, his expression saying, I told you not to fight; see, you wouldn’t listen!

"You knew how strong he was?" You Zhuo clutched his chest, struggling to his feet, disbelief written all over his face.

Hu Fu forced a bitter smile and nodded. "Yes."

"How interesting," You Zhuo replied, shoving Hu Fu aside, his face blazing with excitement. "Young Master Ji, be careful! I’ll get serious now!"

With that, his figure moved like a butterfly, folding fan fluttering. The sharp fan ribs swept through the air with the force of short blades, launching a dazzling flurry of attacks that enveloped Ji Huo from all sides.

Among the thirty-six strange weapons of the martial world, the folding fan was one. You Zhuo had planned to simply strike Ji Huo’s vital acupoints, aiming for flair and elegance. Unexpectedly, he’d stumbled right out of the gate, so now he unleashed a storm of attacks without reservation.