C8 Miss Has Chosen Me

"Nan Chenhai, Nan Chenhai?"

Meng Yang called out twice, looking at Nan Chenhai who had once again pulled the blanket over his head. He sighed in resignation, not bothering to check if Nan Chenhai was truly asleep or simply meditating with his eyes closed as he often did.

Determined not to disappoint, Meng Yang licked his somewhat dry lips and launched into an animated boast. He used every dramatic phrase he could think of—skies changing, darkness falling—to convey a sense of grandeur.

He embellished the tale, casting himself as a warrior of mythic proportions, which only made Nan Chenhai, feigning sleep, grit his teeth and breathe unevenly.

Meng Yang concluded with a tale of facing four opponents alone, an unstoppable force, causing Nan Chenhai an ache in his heart and lungs.

Despite his efforts to control his nearly explosive emotions, his limbs shook uncontrollably.

He swore, in that moment, he felt a genuine impulse to beat Meng Yang senseless.

And that impulse transformed his face, hidden beneath the covers, beyond recognition.

Three days flew by, and Meng Yang, previously bruised and swollen, had at last regained some of his former charm after a period of rest.

He hadn't expected that the body's original owner possessed such a cold and refined visage.

Dressed in a white brocade robe and wielding a Tang Blade that glinted with a frosty gleam, he would be the spitting image of a noble warrior from a bygone era.

As before, Meng Yang arrived at the training ground and stood among the training partners like a simpleton, awaiting the attention of the core disciples.

Watching the muscular training partners being chosen one by one, Meng Yang grew increasingly anxious.

When the plaza dwindled to fewer than thirty training partners.

Suddenly, Meng Yang's eyes landed on a cute little girl with a ponytail.

"Lin Zitong, it's her!"

From what Meng Yang remembered, he had encountered this girl before, and she had passed out in less than the time it took to drink a cup of tea.

Furthermore, Zitong wasn't just any disciple of the Lin family; she was a true direct descendant.

The youngest daughter of the Lin family's patriarch, she was exceptionally talented and dearly beloved.

Meng Yang was determined that if he could just ingratiate himself with her today, he might even secure a Lin family cultivation method to practice.

With his heart set on this goal, he didn't wait for Lin Zitong to approach; instead, he eagerly signaled to her with his eyes.

If it weren't for the guard behind him, brandishing a large machete and looking menacing, he would have grabbed Lin Zitong and made a run for it.

"Miss, hey, over here! Yes, right here—the most handsome one, that's me!"

Embracing the notion that a crying child gets milk, Meng Yang raised his voice and called out to her repeatedly.

His yelling startled the machete-wielding guard behind him, who mistook Meng Yang's outburst for rebellion and nearly chopped him by mistake.

It also drew heavy death stares from the surrounding training partners, all bruised and battered.

"Are you the fool?"

At the sound of his voice, Lin Zitong, with her ponytail swishing, flashed a tiger-toothed smile.

Her sparkling eyes, as if hiding stars, struck terror into the hearts of the other training partners.

"Fool? Yes, yes, that's me—I'm the fool."

"Miss, choose me! I'm the strongest man here, and I can definitely help you reach new heights in your martial arts comprehension."

Meng Yang, desperate to grow stronger, cast aside his pride. Unafraid of making enemies, he quickly showered Lin Zitong with compliments.

His words incited the other training partners, who had been eyeing him with irritation, to revel in his misfortune.

Among them, some looked on with pity and sympathy.

What infuriated Meng Yang even more were the few glances directed at his head.

"Damn it..."

Ignoring them, Meng Yang persisted in promoting himself to Lin Zitong.

"Since you've been pleading with me, I'll choose you. If you can help me improve my martial arts today, the rewards will be plentiful."

Lin Zitong's lips curled into a smug smile, her dimples on full display.

Meng Yang's face brightened with excitement, and without further ado, he followed Lin Zitong to the nearby sparring platform.

All the while, he could feel the watchful eyes of both the guards and the training partners on his back.

The gazes that looked upon him as if he were a hero caused Meng Yang's heart to tighten as he turned around.

"Fool, you make the first move."

"Then, I apologize for the offense, Meng Yang..."

With a grave expression, Meng Yang announced his name and launched his Soul Stealing Palm directly at Lin Zitong.

Despite her young age, Lin Zitong was a genuine master of the Convergence of Five Energies.

In this world, before one could reach the First Strike realm, everyone was in the Mortal Realm, having condensed their blood and flesh into a physical form.

Only after undergoing Blood to Spirit Transmutation, Bone Tempering, Mortal Shedding, Convergence of Five Energies, and Three Flowers Gathered Atop could one advance to the First Strike realm.

Meng Yang assessed that the Convergence of Five Energies was on par with the first-class masters of his previous life's martial arts sagas.

And the Three Flowers Gathered Atop was akin to unparalleled strength, sufficient for founding one's own sect.

It was clear just how formidable the ten-year-old Lin Zitong truly was.

"Ah!"

As expected, Meng Yang, who hadn't even completed his Blood to Spirit Transmutation, was knocked back three meters by Lin Zitong's small but mighty fists, crashing to the ground.

He couldn't even discern the path of Lin Zitong's swift attack before being sent flying.

This sparring session was different from the last; he felt an intense pain radiating from his chest throughout his body.

His flesh puppet technique absorbed the attack, increasing his proficiency by 7 points.

His current proficiency stood at 3178/10000.

"Damn, 7 points? That attack was incredibly powerful, nearly seven times the strength of that horse-faced youth."

Meng Yang bit his lip, his pride slightly wounded by the information flashing before his eyes.

He believed he hadn't defended properly and was convinced that, given another chance, he wouldn't be sent flying.

As he regained his footing, Lin Zitong, only a few steps away, darted towards him like a bolt from the blue.

Her youthful hands, with a commanding presence, aimed straight for Meng Yang's face.

Faced with imminent danger, Meng Yang instinctively stepped back and, without a second thought, unleashed his Soul Stealing Palm once more.

The clash of their palms sent Meng Yang reeling back with a cry, stumbling three steps before he could finally regain his balance.

The proficiency of the flesh puppet increased by 7 with each attack it withstood.

Current proficiency: 3185/10000.

The Soul Stealing Palm was executed successfully, raising the proficiency by 1.

Current proficiency: 7656/10000.

Meng Yang was sweating profusely and struggled to his feet, only to see Lin Zitong charging at him once more.

His scalp numbed and his face paled as he let out a desperate cry, "Miss, please, just a moment. Hear me out..."

"What's this? Giving up so soon? You just claimed to be the strongest man around. Remember, lying to me is a beheading offense."

Lin Zitong halted, her posture exuding pride as she stood at the edge of the sparring platform, gazing down at Meng Yang.

As Meng Yang was about to look up, he caught a glimpse of Lin Zitong's fair and delicate calves beneath her dress from his advantageous position, which made him blink in a fluster and quickly avert his gaze.

He now realized why the onlookers had been staring at him as if he were a fool.

It must be said, this young girl might look slender, but she could be fiercely formidable when she chose to be.

In his past life, if some creepy guy had tried to lure Lin Zitong with candy, he would have undoubtedly learned the meaning of violence the hard way.

"How could I possibly admit defeat? It is my honor to train with the Miss."

Gathering his courage, Meng Yang went on, "However, with your formidable martial prowess, I doubt I could withstand more than ten moves before succumbing. I kindly ask that you temper your strength so that I may last longer. This way, not only can I endure more, but you'll also be able to grasp and refine the techniques with greater clarity and proficiency, wouldn't you agree?"