Looking at a Fool

Tch.

A bunch of heartless old coots.

He had misjudged them.

And here he was feeling all sentimental.

Turns out he was just being sentimental all by himself.

Yi Feng was filled with resentment—was this all those years of camaraderie amounted to?

"Hey, I said I'm about to die, and you're not even slightly worried?" Yi Feng asked with a darkened face, unable to hold back.

"Should... should we be sad?" The old man paused mid-move with his chess piece, exchanging glances with the others before looking back at Yi Feng.

"Shouldn't you?" Yi Feng replied gravely.

The group froze for a moment before quickly snapping into character.

"Woo, may Mr. Yi have a smooth journey to the underworld."

"Safe travels, sir."

"Mhm, we're all very sad about Mr. Yi's passing."

The old men theatrically lifted their sleeves to dab at their dry eyes.

"Could you be any faker?"

Yi Feng's face darkened further.

Fine.

He'd misjudged them.

Coming here to say goodbye was a waste of time. Fuming, he turned on his heel and stormed off, hands clasped behind his back.

"Take care, sir."

They nodded as Yi Feng left, then immediately refocused on their chess game, chatting idly.

"What do you think Mr. Yi is up to this time?" one old man couldn't help but ask.

"Who knows? He says he's gonna die—so let him die. What's the big deal?" another replied.

"Exactly! As if he could actually die!"

"Probably just bored again. We'll get used to it. Stay calm. Even if he said he was gonna crush the sun in the sky, that's not our problem."

"Well said. Let's just carry on as usual."

"Enough of this. I'm off to buy melons from Granny Wang."

"Me too. Gonna get half a bucket of manure from the nightsoil collector to fertilize my vegetables..."

After leaving the street, Yi Feng continued his quest for a way to die.

Jumping off a cliff?

He could fly.

Drowning in the sea?

He could swim.

In the end, he tied a boulder to himself and plunged into the ocean.

Blub blub...

Dragged down by the weight, Yi Feng sank to the seabed.

A minute passed—Yi Feng blinked.

A quarter-hour passed—he blew a bubble.

Two hours later, he yawned, dozed off, and slept for a full day.

When he woke up, he simply swam back up.

His drowning attempt officially ended in failure.

"Seems normal suicide methods don't work for me," Yi Feng muttered. "Guess that's what happens when you're this strong."

"Better cut to the chase—find someone to kill me!"

Just as the thought crossed his mind, he spotted Lu DaSheng in the distance, carrying buckets of manure.

"Perfect. You'll do."

Yi Feng grinned and flew toward him.

"Greetings, sir."

Lu DaSheng bowed respectfully.

"At ease. Need a favor." Yi Feng pulled out a knife and tossed it to the ground.

"Go on, stab me," Yi Feng said.

"Wha—?!"

Lu DaSheng was so startled he dropped his manure buckets and fell to his knees, kowtowing frantically.

"Sir, whatever wrong I've done, please forgive me!"

"I swear on my life, I’d never dare harm you!"

"If you doubt my loyalty, kill me yourself! I could never raise a hand against you!"

His forehead thudded against the dirt as he pleaded.

"What the—?!"

Yi Feng's face darkened. He crouched down to explain.

"Misunderstanding. You know how strong I am, right? I'm cultivating a divine technique—'break to rebuild.' Can't do it myself, so I need you to stab me. No hard feelings."

"Sir, I beg you, I’d never disrespect you like this!"

Lu DaSheng wasn’t listening, too busy kowtowing like his life depended on it, convinced he’d somehow offended Yi Feng.

"Ugh, you—"

Seeing Lu DaSheng like this, Yi Feng sighed.

Then again, he’d been too abrupt. Handing someone a knife and asking to be stabbed would scare anyone.

Next time, he’d explain properly.

Nodding to himself, Yi Feng abandoned Lu DaSheng and sped off to find Old Man Wang.

The old man might be aged, but he could still wield a blade.

More importantly, he was sensible. If Yi Feng explained clearly, he’d probably cooperate.

Yi Feng arrived at Old Man Wang’s house.

Tea was already steeping.

They sat facing each other.

"What brings you here, sir?" Old Man Wang asked.

"Right. I’m cultivating a divine technique—'break to rebuild.'" Learning from his earlier mistake, Yi Feng laid out his reasoning carefully.

After explaining in detail, he placed a dagger on the table.

"So, do me a favor—kill me."

Yi Feng said it with utter seriousness.

Then he clenched his teeth and shut his eyes.

Old Man Wang glanced at the knife, then at Yi Feng’s closed eyes.

His expression was... complicated.

Sir was...

Well-meaning.

And powerful.

But not the sharpest tool in the shed.

How clueless did you have to be to make such a request?

Even if Yi Feng sat still and let him stab with all his might—would it even leave a scratch?

After a long wait, Yi Feng opened his eyes.

"Why haven’t you done it yet?"

Old Man Wang stayed silent.

Just stared at him.

With respect... and a hint of "are you stupid?"