SF 7

“Well damn, here I was thinking some hero had been dragged in, but turns out it’s just some cocksucking pretty boy!” Scarface finally shouted, late to catch on. The cell erupted with howls of laughter.

“Cocksucking? He’s a eunuch’s plaything. Where’s the cock to suck? If you ask me, he’s probably the one doing the sticking.”

“You lot really don’t know anything,” someone sneered. “If he were the one on top, why would he sneak around behind the old eunuch’s back to chase other men?”

Amid the jeering, someone kicked Ling Xun hard in the side. The half-raised posture he had worked so hard to manage gave way, and he collapsed onto the floor again.

“Fuck off, you little bastard! Get off my bed!”

It was the wiry, bearded man who had been talking to Scarface earlier. He dove over and gathered up the flattened haystack Ling Xun had fallen onto, clutching it to his chest like a hen guarding her nest. His face twisted with disgust, like he had just found a clump of weasel shit in his straw.

“Come on now, Master Ruan. Don’t be so cold. The little beauty’s dying to crawl into your bed, and you’re tossing him back out?”

“Bah! Master Ruan only likes soft girls with big tits. I’ve got no interest in limp-wristed little pansies who don’t know what they are.”

Ling Xun listened as the inmates tossed remarks back and forth with great enthusiasm. He was just about to push himself up again when someone grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his head up. In an instant, he became like a live chicken at the market, manhandled and flipped back and forth for inspection.

“Well, well. This little catamite really is something. What do you say we have ourselves a taste tonight?”

Ling Xun caught a glimpse of the speaker from the corner of his eye and was startled to find it was a brat no older than Fang Ke or Fang Jue. Rough men mouthing off about dirty things was nothing new. Men were trash by nature, but a kid that age already talking like this? What kind of monster would he grow into?

Maybe it was instinct from raising all those bratty monkeys back home, but Ling Xun’s inner “benevolent father” reflex kicked in at precisely the wrong moment. He lifted an arm and gave a twist, and the boy who had grabbed his hair let out a yelp and immediately let go.

Ling Xun spun around and grabbed the boy by the collar. Like plucking up a chick, he yanked him into position and landed a crisp slap across his face. Then, as if the hit wasn’t enough, he laid into him.

“You little shit. Don’t know a damn thing, and you’re already out here acting like a full-grown stud? Have your balls even dropped yet?”

A bright red handprint bloomed across the skinny teenager’s cheek. His wolfish eyes went wide in shock, totally dazed. The moment he realized how much he’d just been humiliated, he started thrashing violently. But Ling Xun’s pale, delicate-looking fingers gripped his wrist like iron pincers. No matter how he struggled, he couldn’t break free.

The kid barred his teeth and launched a kick straight at Ling Xun’s face.

That was exactly what Ling Xun had been waiting for.

His other hand shot out, caught the boy’s ankle, and flipped him to the ground like a sack of rice. He followed with a springing motion, spun his body up, and landed squarely on the boy’s stomach. The kid’s eyes rolled back, nearly coughing up his guts.

“Now that’s what I call a good move!”

The prisoners were not offended by Ling Xun’s sudden burst of violence. In fact, they clapped and cheered like delighted spectators. If any of them had so much as a copper coin in their pockets, they probably would have thrown it into the ring as a tip.

“Not bad at all. Come over here and spar with me!” Scarface lunged forward, his dark, sinewy body like a bull fresh out of the muck. He was panting heavily, charging forward like a man about to leap on his new bride.

Someone nearby spat. “Shameless bastard. Ah Cheng is just a kid, no shame in roughhousing with him a little. But you? You’ve got all your limbs, and you’re picking a fight with a cripple? Not worried about losing face when you get out of here?”

Scarface’s eyes bulged like bronze bells. He bellowed in his gravelly voice, “What the hell are you yelling about? This pretty boy’s legs don’t work? Fine. I won’t use mine either. We’ll both play the cripple!”

Ling Xun had not expected that disciplining one wild brat would stir the whole cell into a frenzy, like tossing a stone into a pond and sending the filthy fish scrambling with excitement. And judging by their banter, it seemed some of them actually knew each other outside this prison. These weren’t just cellmates. They had real familiarity. That surprised him.

True to his word, Scarface dropped into a cross-legged seat in front of Ling Xun, grounding his stance. His massive palm swept out like a fan, reaching to snatch the boy Ling Xun had been sitting on.

The scrawny teenager teared up at once, overwhelmed by emotion. He struggled again, unwilling to be treated like a piece of meat, which caused Ling Xun to wobble unsteadily on top of him.

Scarface’s techniques were nothing special, but his palm strikes came fast and sharp, clearly backed by solid inner force. Ling Xun had a hard time parrying while straddling an unwilling mule. He was at a disadvantage, several times nearly struck by the edge of Scarface’s attacks.

He waited for an opening. When it came, he drew his fingers lightly across a few acupoints on the boy beneath him. Then, just as Scarface swung a powerful blow, Ling Xun joined both hands to block it and subtly formed a hand seal. The boy beneath him instantly went still, going limp like a soft cushion beneath him, although his expression remained wide-eyed with horror.

Now that he had a stable base, Ling Xun could fully focus on Scarface. The two exchanged blows within the upper range of movement, trading over ten moves without a clear winner. Ling Xun’s appreciation grew. Despite the man’s brutish face and crude tongue, there was no trace of trickery in his techniques. His style was upright and forthright. In another life, under different circumstances, Ling Xun might have considered recruiting him.

That brief, sincere flicker of admiration sat strangely on Ling Xun’s dazzling, fox-like face. To those watching, it looked more like a seductive glance filled with unspoken affection.

Scarface was nearly thirty and had spent his life among cutthroats and killers. He had never encountered this kind of bewitching creature. The moment those shimmering eyes met his, he froze, and the thick, weathered skin of his face darkened with a visible flush.

Ling Xun’s patience, already worn thin, had run dry. He no longer felt like trading clean moves. While Scarface was still stunned, Ling Xun flicked his fingers together and jabbed between the man’s legs, aiming straight for his vital spot. It was the monkey pokes peach move.

Scarface had likely never faced someone so utterly shameless. Still sitting cross-legged with his defenses down, he suddenly faced the very real threat of lifelong eunuchhood. His eyes went wide with panic as he dropped his guard and instinctively shielded his groin.

That was the moment Ling Xun had been waiting for. The jab had only been a feint. As Scarface leaned forward to protect himself, Ling Xun surged upward and grabbed the hem of his short robe, yanking it up to cover his head. Then, with astonishing speed, he pulled the sleeves around from under the man’s armpits, tied them together, and sealed the knot with a tight decorative flourish.

Scarface was now trussed up in his own clothes. He couldn’t see and couldn’t move his arms. He flailed like a stunned grub, drawing roars of laughter from the watching crowd.

That round was a clear loss for Scarface. And given that he was one of the strongest among them, no one else was in a hurry to step forward and risk looking even worse. But as they stared at Ling Xun, their curiosity deepened. Before long, their hooligan instincts kicked in again, and a few of them began winking and elbowing one another, clearly considering whether to rush him all at once.

Ling Xun wasn’t afraid of being ganged up on. He was already racking his brain, combing through the limited number of formations he had memorized, trying to gauge which ones might be usable in a place like this. Just then, someone in the corner of the cell finally spoke up.

“Enough. All of you calm down. Has no one realized this young man is someone we already know?”