Guozhao Zhiqiang stirred, the warmth of Deming's naked body still pressed against his own beneath the rumpled blanket, a comforting weight. He leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to Deming's temple, inhaling his scent, before carefully, almost imperceptibly, easing himself out of bed. He moved like a whisper, a shadow in the dim light, determined not to shatter the peaceful slumber beside him, a smile playing on his lips.
At the training grounds, the crisp morning air bit at his exposed skin, a refreshing sting, but a familiar sense of purpose warmed him from within. A scattering of juniors were already hard at work, their grunts of effort and the rhythmic thud of their practice weapons a comforting symphony in the quiet dawn. He joined them, his movements fluid and strong, a natural extension of his powerful form.
Moments later, the ten brothers ambled into the training ground, their steps heavy with morning sluggishness, their eyes still half-closed. Their eyes widened in collective surprise, spotting Guozhao Zhiqiang already in full swing, a blur of practiced motion among the younger trainees, effortlessly deflecting blows.
"I thought Senior Brother would sleep until noon today," Yu Lei quipped, a mischievous glint in his eye, a knowing smirk.
"Why?" Xiang Tian asked, genuinely puzzled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
Zheng Yaozu cracked his knuckles with a loud pop, a knowing grin spreading across his face, his eyes twinkling. "He was with Brother Deming last night, wasn't he? They had quite the reunion."
Fang Weisheng's eyes lit up with playful malice, a wicked idea forming. "Since he was smiling so happily last night, so utterly content, let's make him cry today! Let's wipe that smug look off his face!"
Guozhao Zhaohui snorted, a mocking laugh escaping him, his gaze fixed on Zhiqiang. "Maybe he used up all his strength last night, Weisheng. He might be weak now." He punctuated his jibe with a wide, impish grin, enjoying the implication.
Fang Weimin shook his head, a weary sigh escaping him, already anticipating the inevitable. "I'll pass on this particular folly. I know better."
"Me too," Zheng Tingfeng added, folding his arms across his chest, a look of resigned amusement on his face. "This never ends well."
Fang Weisheng turned to two of the still-confused brothers, his voice dripping with persuasive charm. "Brother Fu, Brother Ho, are you two in with us? Don't you want to join the fun?"
Fu Yongrui's brow furrowed, still processing the implications of Zheng Yaozu's earlier comment. "I… I still don't understand what you're talking about, Brother Weisheng."
Ho Jinhai's gaze swept over the grinning faces of the brothers, a shiver running down his spine, a sense of foreboding. "Why do I feel like this is a trap?" he muttered under his breath, his instincts screaming caution.
"Don't you want some revenge, Brother Fu?" Zheng Yaozu pressed, his voice dripping with insinuation, a sly invitation. "For that beating yesterday?"
"What for?" Fu Yongrui asked, genuinely baffled, his memory still hazy from the previous day's defeat.
"We'll help you get even with Senior Brother for beating you yesterday!" Zheng Yaozu declared, his grin widening, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. "A chance for payback!"
A flicker of interest, a spark of vengeful pride, crossed Fu Yongrui's face. "You're… willing? You'll help me?"
"I highly advise you to decline, Brother Fu," Zheng Tingfeng warned, his voice firm, a genuine concern in his eyes. "You'll regret it."
Ho Jinhai looked at Zheng Tingfeng, then back at the plotting group, their faces alight with mischief. "Then I decline," he stated, his decision made, a profound sense of relief washing over him. "I have no grudge against your Senior Brother. I'm staying out of this."
Tam Liang and Tam Kun, however, weren't so cautious. They scoffed, looking at Zheng Tingfeng and Fang Weimin with open disdain, their voices dripping with contempt. In unison, they sneered, "Losers. Cowards."
"Alright everyone, let's do it!" Fu Yongrui declared, caught up in the sudden surge of bravado, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.
The eight brothers huddled close, forming a tight, conspiratorial circle. Low whispers and hushed plans filled the air as they meticulously plotted their "tactic" to finally bring down Guozhao Zhiqiang, convinced they had found his weakness.
Meanwhile, Deming sauntered over to Fang Weimin, Zheng Tingfeng, and Ho Jinhai, a curious smile playing on his lips, sensing the brewing mischief. "Why are you three just standing here?" he asked, gesturing towards the plotting group. "Aren't you joining them?"
Fang Weimin frowned, a wry smirk on his face. "Watching pigs being beaten, Brother Deming."
Deming blinked, confused. "Pigs?" He looked around, searching the training ground. "Where are the pigs?"
"Eight pigs, to be exact," Zheng Tingfeng clarified, a hint of amusement in his voice, his eyes twinkling.
Without a moment's warning, the eight brothers broke their huddle and charged Guozhao Zhiqiang, a chaotic wave of limbs and shouted challenges, a flurry of attacks.
Deming's breath hitched in his throat. His heart pounded with sudden worry. Seven to one? No, eight to one! He feared Guozhao Zhiqiang, formidable as he was, would be overwhelmed by sheer numbers. But before he could react, Fang Weimin caught his arm, gently pulling him back to stand beside Zheng Tingfeng and Ho Jinhai.
"Let's just sit back and enjoy the show, Brother Deming," Fang Weimin advised, a knowing twinkle in his eye. "It's quite entertaining."
Zheng Tingfeng glanced at Deming, offering a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, your husband will definitely win. He always does."
Fang Weimin gasped dramatically, his eyes wide with mock outrage. "You can't use the word 'husband', Tingfeng! They haven't married yet!"
"Why not?" Zheng Tingfeng challenged, feigning innocence, enjoying Fang Weimin's exasperation.
"Because they haven't married yet!" Fang Weimin retorted, exasperated, throwing his hands up.
"Lover?" Zheng Tingfeng offered, trying another term, a mischievous glint in his eye.
Fang Weimin shook his head, a sigh of pure frustration escaping him. "Boyfriend..." he muttered, then, fearing Zheng Tingfeng hadn't heard, he enunciated clearly, "Boyfriend. Understood? It's simple!"
Deming's cheeks flushed a deep crimson, his embarrassment palpable. "You two realize I'm standing right here, don't you?" he mumbled, utterly mortified.
"Of course we do, Brother Deming!" Zheng Tingfeng and Fang Weimin chorused, their voices laced with playful mischief, clearly enjoying his discomfort.
A new voice chimed in from behind the four men. "What are they doing?" Yang Bao asked, his expression puzzled, having just arrived with Lee Nianzu and Tam Qiu.
"Getting their butts kicked," Zheng Tingfeng answered matter-of-factly, gesturing to the ongoing skirmish.
Lee Nianzu shook his head, a soft chuckle escaping him. "Are they crazy? They'll never win."
"Senior Brother!" Tam Qiu yelled, a note of mock concern in her voice, though a smile played on her lips. "Don't hit them too hard! They still have to compete today! We need them in one piece!"
Deming watched, a knot of worry tightening in his stomach, as eight figures relentlessly assaulted Guozhao Zhiqiang. He was utterly bewildered. There's no way Zhiqiang can win this, not against so many. He murmured aloud, his concern genuine, "I don't think Zhiqiang will win. It's too many against one."
"What do you mean, Brother Deming?" Fang Weimin asked, turning to him, a sly smirk on his face. "Are you underestimating our Senior Brother?"
"I just don't believe your Senior Brother can defeat eight well-trained hunters at once," Deming admitted, his concern genuine. "It's impossible."
Fang Weimin's smirk widened, a challenge in his eyes. "Do you want to bet, Brother Deming? A friendly wager?"
"What are you betting on?" Deming asked, intrigued despite himself, a spark of curiosity ignited.
"If the eight brothers win, I'll do whatever you say, Brother Deming," Fang Weimin proposed, his confidence radiating, convinced of his victory.
"And if they lose?" Deming countered, a spark of playful defiance in his eyes, a mischievous glint.
"You have to do whatever I say," Fang Weimin shot back, his grin widening.
"Tell me what you want me to do first," Deming insisted, shaking his head. "Otherwise, I'm not betting with you. I need to know the stakes."
Fang Weimin's smile widened, a mischievous glint in his eye, clearly having thought this through. "If Senior Brother wins, you have to kiss me in front of him, Brother Deming!"
"Are you courting death, Weimin?!" Zheng Tingfeng muttered, aghast, his eyes wide with disbelief. "He'll kill you!"
Deming, however, merely smiled, a confident sparkle in his eyes, a secret plan forming. "Okay. I'm positive the eight brothers will win. You're on."
"Once words are spoken, even a cart driven by four horses cannot chase them back," Fang Weimin declared, his voice ringing with mock solemnity, sealing the bet. "The four of you are our witnesses!"
Yang Bao looked at Deming, a hint of sympathy in his gaze, a knowing look. "Brother Deming, you may not know…"
"Know what, Brother Yang?" Deming asked, still confident, oblivious to the warning.
"They've fought Senior Brother before," Lee Nianzu finished, shaking his head, a wry smile on his face. "Many times."
Deming's eyes darted between Yang Bao and Lee Nianzu, a touch of apprehension entering his voice. "The outcome?" he asked, his confidence wavering slightly.
Fang Weimin burst into laughter, a loud, self-deprecating sound. "Ha…ha…ha… We were badly beaten! Every single time!"
Ho Jinhai looked at Zheng Tingfeng, a profound sense of relief washing over him. "Thank heaven, I listened to your advice, Brother Tingfeng. You saved me from a beating."
Deming, the five hunters, Ho Jinhai, and his classmates settled in, their eyes fixed on the unfolding battle between Guozhao Zhiqiang and the eight brothers. Guozhao Zhiqiang moved with breathtaking speed, a blur of motion, deflecting and blocking the onslaught of attacks with effortless grace. The first to fall, sent sprawling with a powerful parry, was Fu Yongrui, landing with a grunt.
"Surround him!" Tian Xian roared, rallying the others, his voice desperate. "Don't let him breathe!"
But Guozhao Zhiqiang was a whirlwind, a force of nature, grabbing hands, twisting bodies, and throwing them down one by one with effortless grace, like dolls. Fu Yongrui, however, refused to surrender. He scrambled back to his feet, fueled by a stubborn pride, and rejoined the fray, his eyes burning with determination.
Fang Weimin, beside Deming, was practically bouncing with anticipation, rubbing his hands together. "Brother Deming, prepare to kiss me in front of Senior Brother! He'll be so angry and hurt! It'll be hilarious!"
Deming merely smiled, a mischievous glint in his eye, his confidence unwavering. "I still believe the eight brothers will win, Brother Weimin."
"I think Weimin's right," Lee Nianzu sighed, a note of resignation in his voice. "At this rate, they won't win. Senior Brother is too strong."
One by one, the eight brothers collapsed to the ground, groaning in pain, their bodies aching, the impact of Guozhao Zhiqiang's throws reverberating through them.
Fang Weimin burst into confident laughter, a triumphant sound. "Ha…ha…ha… I told you, Brother Deming! I win!"
"Are you laughing, Weimin?" Zheng Tingfeng demanded, incredulous, his face a mask of disbelief. "How ridiculous is this? Your brothers are hurt!"
"They were asking for it, Tingfeng," Fang Weimin dismissed with a wave of his hand, his eyes shining with victory. He turned to Deming, his eyes shining. "Brother Deming! I'm ready for that kiss!"
Deming simply smiled, a knowing glint in his eye. "Watch and learn, children," he said, his voice ringing with a newfound authority, a playful challenge. "This is what I learned from the hunting diaries in your library!" He strode purposefully towards the groaning pile of "defeated" brothers, his steps confident. "You eight!" he exclaimed, his voice sharp and clear, cutting through their moans. "Get up and win this fight! Because if you lose... I'm going to kiss Fang Weimin!"
Fang Weimin's jaw dropped, his triumphant grin vanishing instantly. "What is he doing?!" he shrieked, aghast, pointing at Deming. "That's not fair!"
Yang Bao chuckled, a knowing smile on his face, understanding Deming's cleverness. "He's asking Senior Brother to surrender, Weimin." He patted Fang Weimin's left shoulder twice, a gesture of mock comfort.
"Hey! That's cheating!" Fang Weimin protested, pointing an accusatory finger at Deming. "You can't do that!"
"On the contrary," Lee Nianzu countered, shaking his head, a wry smile. "He didn't cheat. He just… encouraged the eight brothers. Very effectively."
Fu Yongrui, grimacing, slowly pushed himself to his feet, his eyes wide with horror at the thought of Deming kissing Fang Weimin. A fierce determination ignited in his eyes, overriding his pain. "I won't let Fang Weimin kiss you, Brother Deming!" he roared, then lunged at Guozhao Zhiqiang, unleashing a heavy punch that connected squarely with Guozhao Zhiqiang's right shoulder, fueled by sheer panic. The impact sent Guozhao Zhiqiang sliding back a full thirty feet, a surprising display of force.
Guozhao Zhiqiang rubbed his shoulder, a hint of a sneer playing on his lips as he looked at Deming, then slowly shook his head, a subtle, amused surrender. "Okay, you win."
Fu Yongrui stared at his fist, then at Guozhao Zhiqiang, pure exhilaration exploding across his face. "We won! We won!" he shrieked, jumping up and down, completely oblivious to the true reason for the victory.
Fang Weimin stood beside Deming, utterly stunned, his mouth agape. "I didn't know you would pull that card, Brother Deming," he muttered, defeated.
Deming smiled sweetly at Fang Weimin, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "You should thank me, Brother Weimin. I really don't want your Senior Brother to hit you in the face for trying to kiss me."
"Senior Brother never hits me," Fang Weimin said, almost defensively, still reeling.
Deming's smile widened, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Are you sure?" he challenged, a playful warning.
"What do you want, Brother Deming?" Fang Weimin asked, knowing he was trapped, resigned to his fate.
Deming looked at Yang Bao, his smile radiating pure delight. "I want you to help Brother Yang all day without saying a single word, Brother Weimin. Not one word."
Yang Bao and Tam Qiu burst into uproarious laughter, their bodies shaking with mirth. "Brother Deming," Yang Bao choked out between gasps of mirth, "that punishment is far more severe than an entire day of horse stance! You know his love for talking!"
"You hate the smell of medicine, and now you'll spend an entire day surrounded by it," Lee Nianzu added, shaking his head with amusement. "And you love talking, and now you'll spend an entire day without saying a single word! It's genius!"
"Little brother," Tam Qiu giggled, wiping a tear from her eye, "you've finally met your match! Brother Deming is too clever!"
The eight brothers, still nursing their aches and pains, walked towards the group, their faces a mixture of pain and triumph, and now, amusement at Fang Weimin's predicament.
"What happened to you, Weimin?" Fang Weisheng asked, looking at his brother, a knowing smirk.
"He lost the bet," Yang Bao explained, still chuckling, enjoying the spectacle.
"What kind of bet?" Yu Lei asked, curious, sensing the hilarity.
"Spend the entire day with me without speaking a single word," Yang Bao announced, a broad grin on his face, looking at Fang Weimin.
The eight brothers pointed at Fang Weimin and erupted in a fresh wave of laughter, their pain forgotten in the sheer hilarity of his predicament. Tam Qiu walked over, surveying the group with a fond eye, her heart warm.
Guozhao Zhiqiang finally reached the group, his gaze settling on Deming, a gentle warmth in his eyes. "How long have you been up?" he asked, his voice soft.
"I got up when you were fighting with your brothers," Deming replied, his smile innocent, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
Fang Weimin looked at Guozhao Zhiqiang, his brow furrowed in mock outrage. "Long enough to see you lose the fight, Senior Brother!" he exclaimed, feigning madness. "Why did you lose?! You never lose any fight!"
Guozhao Zhiqiang met his gaze, a slight smirk on his lips, his eyes twinkling as he looked at Deming. "Because I don't want you to kiss him, Weimin."
"You know how miserable it is to lose!" Fang Weimin wailed dramatically, still playing up his indignation.
"I have nothing to lose," Guozhao Zhiqiang countered with a shrug, his gaze returning to Deming, a silent promise.
"He lost the freedom to not speak all day!" Zheng Tingfeng interjected, grinning at Fang Weimin, enjoying his brother's misery.
"Not having the ability to speak must be the most tortured punishment for you, Weimin," Guozhao Zhiqiang said to Fang Weimin, a teasing glint in his eye, a rare display of his playful side.
"Alright," Tam Qiu clapped her hands together, breaking the tension and bringing them back to reality. "It looks like everyone's fine. Let's go have breakfast now, and then off you go! If you don't arrive before eight, you'll be disqualified from the competition!"