37 Three days (1/2)
The Hidden Mist Sect Leader was tapping his finger against the wood of his desk, counting down the seconds to when his little brother would be dragged in.
Yuan Xuelan knew this was a precarious situation and had to choose his words wisely if he wanted to help his cousin, ”It might be out of place for me to ask, but what's the issue here?”
Peng Zhugen raised a brow, his voice was low and seething, ”It is indeed out of your place to ask.”
Luckily, Zhao Fanyu wasn't nearly as aggravated or as bad-tempered as the other Sect Leader, ”It is the matter of my payment.”
”That piece of shit, Peng Jipei! How dare he think his mother's bitch life is worth ten thousand Divine Spirit Stones!” A fist came down on Peng Zhugen's desk, a loud slam echoed in the hall.
”Don't insult my Auntie, you-” Yuan Xuelan felt his hands curl into fists but someone was there to grip his shoulder. He twisted around, ready to hurl more curses. But when he saw Liu Sumeng's brows knit in concern, his stomach did an odd flutter instead. Awkward, he shrugged the hand off his shoulder but was able to face the howling Peng Zhugen more calmly.
No actually, he wasn't calm at all! Ten thousand Divine Spirit Stones was a price beyond absurdity, and Zhao Fanyu was shameless to ask for such a payment! And worse was Peng Jipei who agreed on the price and was now the one at fault for not paying up. Yuan Xuelan was nursing a headache and wondered just how insane Peng Jipei had grown since the last time he saw his older cousin.
”Let go of me! Don't pull on my hair! You're ugly!” Peng Jipei was brought in, kicking and flailing, screaming curses at those around him. Three Hidden Mist disciples struggled against him, dragging him as they could into the hall. Disgusted by the sight of his little brother squirming around like a wild animal, Peng Zhugen surged from his seat and marched towards the flailing boy. Slap! An angry red mark blossomed on Peng Jipei's face.
But Jipei's stunned silence didn't last for long. He twisted his gaze back at his brother and spat, ”You dog! Bastard! You violent savage!”
Yuan Xuelan was shocked. Since when did the chirpy yet timid and weak Peng Jipei dare to yell at Peng Zhugen?
Peng Zhugen had the rage of a tiger and impatience to match. He slapped the screaming Peng Jipei with as much might as he could muster. The metal of his ring tore at his brother's lip but he didn't care. ”You utter fool, you disgrace. What made you think you could pay for your dog mother's life with my coffers?” And he continued the beating; each slap came with more force than the last; each word unleashed a voice that was louder, more vicious, more scolding, ”What made you think that a pathetic few more days with a woman doomed to die was worth ten thousand Divine Spirit Stones? What made you think? One dying woman was worth jeopardizing an entire Sect!?”
”That's enough already!” Yuan Xuelan shouted. He didn't want to watch Peng Zhugen beat a weak Peng Jipei that offered no resistance. And even if his idiot cousin might have deserved it, the scene reminded him too much of an imagined one. One that haunted his dreams. One that featured a frail Liu Sumeng.
”Silence! Know your place!” Peng Zhugen howled, an oppressing aura weighed down on the hall. On the other side, Zhao Fanyu sighed as though bored. And Yuan Xuelan only held back because Liu Sumeng was there to grip his shoulder and then hold his hand. A subtle squeeze of warmth was all he needed to be reminded of reason and calm.
”She's not…she's not going to die,” Peng Jipei croaked, his voice weak and wet with blood dribbling down his mouth and nose.
Peng Zhugen was without sympathy and rolled his eyes, ”Wake up from your dreams, pathetic child. Where did you think you were going to fish out ten thousand Divine Spirit Stones?”
Peng Jipei coughed and more blood splattered onto the ground. ”H-he's lying,” his voice was softer now, pathetic and cowed. But still, he pointed an accusing finger towards the aloof Zhao Fanyu. ”I never promised him ten thousand Divine Spirit Stones!”
Attention was then drawn toward Zhao Fanyu, who was stroking his sleeves without a care in the world. Peng Jipei continued with his accusations, ”We agreed on ten! Only ten. I don't remember hearing anything about ten thousand.”
Peng Zhugen narrowed his gaze towards the Wayward Wind Sect Leader, trying to better discern this man's character. It was difficult to tell if Zhao Fanyu could be considered trustworthy, especially when he reacted with even less sympathetically than the stony-faced Ivory Sword Saint.
Eventually, Zhao Fanyu sighed and pushed a loose strand of hair behind his ear, ”So the liar is accusing me of being a liar? Hm, well, I'll have you know I'm not exactly fond of false accusations. And this is hardly the first time a customer has tried to cheat me so.” He stretched out his hand, allowing a small bird with brilliant emerald feathers to hop out from his sleeve and onto his palm.