Chapter 39 - Escaping in a Panic (1/2)

Translator: Henyee Translations Editor: Henyee Translations

This turn of events was like stabbing a hornet’s nest, and the whole cla.s.sroom was filled with the children’s guffaws.

The Daoist priest stood up, his face burning. Meeting his tiny employer, Zhou Tao’s, doubtful gaze, he immediately straightened his expression and shouted while lunging toward Master Jiang, “You evil creature, where did you flee to?”

Swish, swish, swish. The Daoist priest charged to the front of Master Jiang and started waving his peach-wood sword up and down, his body dancing with it. He looked like he was putting a lot of effort into it, as though he was truly fighting some invisible evil creature.

Master Jiang’s face was flushed with anger. He moved left and right to dodge the priest’s peach-wood sword and was about the admonish the priest.

However, the priest did not keep his cool for more than three seconds and fell onto the ground face first again. This time, his head was spinning, and two tracks of blood flowed down his nostrils.

The Daoist priest was both anxious and angry, and he jumped up with a roar. His peach-wood sword clattered onto the ground, and an ill-boding feeling washed over him. His head felt like it was being pulled by a gravitational force and heavily fell down again.

Then, this turned into a cycle, and the children watched as the Daoist priest miserably got up and fell down over and over again, shock entering their system.

The past and present had frighteningly similar points!

The children all discovered, didn’t this scene of endlessly repeating an unlucky event over and over again happen to Little Fatty Zhou yesterday?

Bang! Bang! Bang! After the Daoist priest fell over and over again, his forehead was completely red from knocking his head on the ground. What added to his sorry figure was the blood dripping from his nose, flowing everywhere on his face.

A few minutes later, the tragic Daoist priest discovered that his head had finally stopped answering the call of gravity, but the last trace of his confidence had already wilted from the torture.