boyutpedia Chapter 28 The Young Master of the Xiao Bancheng Family
Chapter 28 The Young Master of the Xiao Bancheng Family
Everyone's eyes followed.
There stood a boy, about ten years old, dressed in a brocade robe, who seemed to be frightened as well.
Seeing the three thugs' fierce gazes fixed on him, the young man in the brocade robe became visibly nervous, his face turned pale, and he subconsciously took a step back.
"Bullshit! What young master would give food to you stinking beggars? I bet you stole it!"
A thug looked at the young man in the brocade robe, noticing his fine clothes but timid expression. His eyes darted around, and he grinned maliciously as he approached the boy. "Hey kid, did you give this to me? I didn't realize you were so generous!"
Scarface also realized what was happening, immediately shunned the beggars, and led another thug to surround and block the path of the young man in brocade robes.
"Heh heh, since you're so kind, why don't you lend a hand to Scarface and his gang? Hand over all the money you have!"
He reached out and grabbed the boy's collar.
"I...I didn't..."
The young man in the brocade robe was so frightened that his voice trembled. He tried to hide but was forced against the wall.
"stop!"
The beggar boy who had been kicked down struggled to his feet and suddenly rushed over, ramming his head into the scarred man's waist.
The other beggars also mustered their courage. Although they were trembling with fear, they rushed forward one after another. Some hugged the thug's legs, while others stood in front of the boy in the brocade robe, trying to protect him.
"Damn it! You're asking for it!"
The thugs were enraged by this sudden resistance.
"Snap—"
Scarface slapped the leading beggar boy hard across the face, making him see stars and fall down again.
Another thug, cursing and swearing, forcefully pushed and pulled away the little beggars blocking their way.
In the chaos, the oil paper package in the thin little girl's arms was torn off and fell to the ground.
Several steamed buns rolled out and were immediately trampled and crushed mercilessly by the thugs.
"You little brats, I'm going to teach you a lesson today!" Scarface raised his foot to kick the beggar boy on the ground.
Just then, a cold voice came from the alley entrance.
"stop."
The sound wasn't loud, but it had a peculiar penetrating power, causing the three thugs to freeze in their tracks.
They turned around and saw a child of eight or nine years old standing at the alley entrance, dressed in simple but clean cloth clothes. He was thin and his face was even a little pale, but his eyes were surprisingly bright as he calmly looked at them.
"Ha! Which brat is it now? You haven't even grown your hair out yet and you're already meddling in other people's business?" Scarface sneered, his face full of disdain, after recognizing the newcomer. "Get lost! Or you'll be taken down with you..."
His words came to an abrupt end.
Because the child's gaze changed.
It was no longer calm, but like a newly drawn blade, cold and sharp, carrying a heavy sense of oppression that seemed capable of splitting mountains!
An invisible, chilling aura instantly enveloped the three thugs!
This is a trace of the sword intent of the "Rock-Splitting Mountain Blade" that Zhang Yuan has just comprehended!
Although faint, combined with the murderous aura he accumulated from killing the strong bull, it was no less than the gaze of a tiger to these thugs who hadn't even touched the threshold of martial arts!
Scarface's facial muscles twitched, and he swallowed back the rest of his words, cold sweat instantly beading on his forehead.
The two thugs beside him turned pale and instinctively took a step back.
They felt as if their heart was being gripped by a large, cold hand, making it difficult to breathe.
Zhang Yuan didn't make a move; he simply took a step forward.
With that step, the invisible sword intent and murderous aura seemed to solidify, like a cold blade pressed against the throats of the three thugs!
"roll."
Zhang Yuan uttered a single word.
The three thugs felt as if they had been granted a pardon. They felt the terrifying pressure suddenly ease, and they dared not hesitate for even a moment.
They scrambled and crawled away, running for their lives, not daring to utter a single harsh word, disappearing instantly at the other end of the alley, as if a demon were chasing them.
Only the gasps of survivors and suppressed sobs remained in the alley.
The beggars were still in shock, but when they saw Zhang Yuan's face, their eyes immediately lit up with unbelievable surprise and deep awe.
"It's...that young master!"
"It's him! The young master who fed us!"
"Thank you, young master! Thank you for saving us!"
They struggled to gather together, thanking Zhang Yuan with emotion, their faces still streaked with tears and bruises.
The young man in the brocade robe also stood up, leaning against the wall. Still shaken, he patted his robe, which was covered in dust and footprints, and looked at Zhang Yuan gratefully, his voice still trembling slightly: "Thank you so much..."
Zhang Yuan nodded slightly, his gaze sweeping over their emaciated bodies, tattered clothes, and trampled food on the ground, finally settling on the young man in the brocade robe. He asked calmly, "Are you alright?"
"No, it's nothing, thank you for saving me." The young man in the brocade robe quickly shook his head, looking at the child in front of him who was even younger than himself, yet had scared away the thugs with just a look, his heart filled with curiosity and shock.
Zhang Yuan didn't say anything more. He simply took out two still-warm meat buns that Zhang Gu had forced on him that morning, which he hadn't had time to eat yet, and gently placed them in front of the beggar boy whose face was red and swollen.
Then he turned around, his thin figure casting a long shadow in the sunlight, and he prepared to leave the dark alley with steady steps.
"Wait, wait a minute!" The young man in the brocade robe looked at his back and mustered up his courage to call out.
Zhang Yuan paused, but did not turn around.
"Excuse me... what's your name?" The young man in the brocade robe asked, his voice tinged with urgency and curiosity.
Zhang Yuan paused briefly before calmly speaking, "Zhang Yuan, Zhang Qingyang."
After saying that, he stopped and continued walking forward.
"Zhang Qingyang?" The young man in the brocade robe repeated the name softly, his eyes first filled with doubt, then suddenly lighting up, his face showing excitement. "He...he's Zhang Qingyang? The Zhang Qingyang who killed a scalper with three punches bare-handed?"
"Yes! That's him!"
"My God, so he's Young Master Zhang Qingyang!"
"No wonder he's so amazing! He scared the bad guys away with just one look!"
The little beggars, upon hearing this, began to discuss excitedly, their gazes towards Zhang Yuan's retreating figure filled with admiration.
The young man in the brocade robe watched the retreating, thin but upright figure, clenched his fists, and muttered to himself, his tone full of disbelief and longing: "Zhang Qingyang... so he was Zhang Qingyang..."
Sunlight shone on Zhang Yuan, dispelling the pallor caused by the loss of lifespan and highlighting the upright spine of a young man.
Power brings not only self-preservation, but also the possibility of changing the fate of others.
This silent scene conveyed to him the weight of growth and... the heavy responsibility more than any words.
A vague idea began to sprout in his mind.
Perhaps, these rootless duckweeds can also become a usable foundation for the future?
……
In the alley, the young man in the brocade robe, still shaken, was staring blankly in the direction Zhang Yuan had left when a middle-aged servant, dressed in a decent blue cotton jacket and with a capable-looking face, rushed in, his face full of anxiety.
"Young master! Are you alright? You scared me to death! I heard a commotion over here just now, and you..."
The servant rushed to the boy's side, looked him over carefully, and saw that apart from some dust on his clothes, he was unharmed. He breathed a sigh of relief and patted his chest, saying with lingering fear.
The boy shook his head, his face still pale, but his eyes shone brightly: "Afu, I'm fine. Thanks to... thanks to Zhang Qingyang."
He paused, then turned his gaze to the few little beggars huddled together beside him, their faces bearing injuries.
"And them... If they hadn't protected me just now, I might have really been in trouble."
He looked at the middle-aged servant, his tone resolute and unquestionable: "Afu, take out all the money you have on you and give it to them."
"Ah? Young master, this..." Afu was taken aback and looked at the disheveled little beggars with some hesitation.
"Hurry up!" the boy urged, his voice young but with a stubborn edge.
Afu dared not hesitate any longer. He quickly took out a heavy coarse cloth money bag from his bosom, weighed it in his hand, and then searched all his pockets, gathering out about two or three taels of silver and several dozen large coins, which he held in his hands.
"Here you go." The boy took the money bag, walked up to the beggars, and without saying a word, stuffed the money bag into the hand of the leader boy, whose face had red and swollen finger marks.
"Here you go, thank you very much for earlier."
The young beggar leading the group looked at the heavy money bag in his hand, both surprised and frightened, as if it were a hot potato. He quickly declined, saying, "No, no, no, young master, how can you accept this! We... we just... dare not take your money! It's what we should do, what we should do..."
The other beggars also waved their hands and backed away, their eyes filled with fear.
It's not that they don't want the money, but they know their place in the world.
"Take it!" The boy's tone became more forceful, carrying a hint of arrogance typical of wealthy young men. "Don't refuse. I don't have Zhang Qingyang's ability to scare away bad guys with a single glance, but I don't lack this little bit of money."
"Take this and buy some food, treat your injuries, and get some warm clothes; the weather is getting colder."
He glanced at the trampled flatbread on the ground, a hint of barely perceptible pity in his eyes.
The lead beggar looked into the boy's earnest eyes, then at the money bag in his hand, feeling its heavy weight. His Adam's apple bobbed, and finally he nodded vigorously, pulling his companions into a deep bow: "Thank...thank you for your great kindness, young master! May you be blessed!"
The boy waved his hand, a genuine smile typical of his age appearing on his face. Then, somewhat embarrassed, he introduced himself, "My name is Xiao Yang, and I live in the west of the city. If you have any difficulties, you can go to the Xiao family... um, find Afu at the back alley corner gate."
He pointed to the middle-aged servant beside him.
"Xiao Yang? The Xiao family of the west of the city?" the lead beggar exclaimed in a low voice, his eyes filled with shock. "You...you are the young master of the 'Xiao Half-City' family?"