Chapter 18: The Tragic Father-Son Incident Triggered by Soup Dumplings
The Realm of Qingyuan boasts a multitude of spells, and among them, fixed-point teleportation was one that Old Master Li wielded with exceptional skill, befitting his status as a hidden expert.
Lou Xiaotian, still chuckling to himself, blinked and suddenly found two steaming buns appearing right before him.
Unlike before, their appearance immediately captured Lou Xiaotian’s gaze.
He gazed upon the two exquisitely crafted buns, as flawless as jade, and could barely part with them.
Yet he knew buns were best savored hot.
Leaning closer to sniff, a faint but enticing aroma stirred Lou Xiaotian’s impatience.
In a hurry, he bit into one; as the savory broth burst within his mouth, he, like Old Master Li, was caught off guard.
Only, he reacted swiftly, arching his hips so the broth spilled onto the floor rather than staining his clothes.
Watching the few drops of broth fall and savoring the sublime flavor in his mouth, Lou Xiaotian deeply regretted not pondering more carefully how to eat the bun.
Lost in self-reproach, he failed to notice the door to his room quietly open.
Outside stood Lou Xiaotian’s father—the town chief of Xiaohe Town, Lou Batian.
True to his name, Lou Batian had once been a domineering warlord in his youth but grew disinterested in conflict with age, choosing instead a quiet little town to enjoy his later years.
He had only this one son, so naturally, Lou Xiaotian meant the world to him.
Recently, Lou Xiaotian had been acting secretive, apparently mingling with some strange characters, which made Lou Batian uneasy.
He had intended to have a father-son talk but found no response when he knocked.
Sensing his son’s presence inside, he opened the door and was greeted by the sight of Lou Xiaotian, bottom raised, shamelessly sucking on a bun.
An unbearable sight!
Lou Batian’s face darkened.
Though his son was a wayward youth, basic manners were non-negotiable.
Seeing Lou Xiaotian’s disgraceful posture, Lou Batian tore open the door further without waiting and swiftly delivered a sharp kick to his son’s backside.
“How did I raise you? There’s a way to stand and sit! If others see you like this, they’ll think the Lou family has no upbringing at all.”
His words came out rapid-fire like a machine gun.
With his mouth full, Lou Xiaotian couldn’t retort, and before he knew it, startled by his father’s sudden action, the remaining soup-filled bun slipped from his grasp.
“No!”
Watching the bun flying through the air, despair clouded Lou Xiaotian’s eyes.
Ignoring his father’s restraining hand, he lunged forward, willing to use his own body as a cushion.
He could suffer harm, but the bun absolutely could not be damaged.
Lou Xiaotian’s face twisted in anguish, which only further infuriated Lou Batian.
“It’s just a bun! Is this really necessary?”
Those questions hung in the air as Lou Batian beckoned and caught the bun in his palm.
“Plop!”
It was Lou Xiaotian who fell to the ground.
Pain radiated through him.
---
Seeing the bun unharmed, Lou Xiaotian breathed a sigh of relief, his smile foolishly blank.
“Dad.”
He grinned, and broth dribbled from the corner of his mouth.
Realizing this, Lou Xiaotian quickly wiped it away.
Lou Batian, watching this, felt a pang in his chest.
He intended to reprimand his son, but his nose twitched.
Something was amiss.
From the moment he entered, a strong, unmistakable fragrance filled the room.
He had assumed it was incense Lou Xiaotian burned.
But what kind of incense smells like food, and fresh at that?
Lou Batian’s eyes widened as his gaze shifted from his son sprawled on the ground to the bun in his palm.
That aroma—it seemed to emanate from the bun itself.
Having sampled countless delicacies, Lou Batian couldn’t help but fixate on the bun.
He recognized its importance to his son—gentlemen do not take what others cherish, yet he was no gentleman, and a father claiming his son’s possessions was only natural.
More importantly, the serene calm within him rippled, stirred by this tiny bun.
Like a pebble dropped into a still lake, waves cascaded outward, touching every corner of his heart, impossible to ignore.
Lou Batian’s shifting expression caught Lou Xiaotian’s eye, prompting a silent alarm.
“Dad, give me back my bun.”
Lou Xiaotian leapt up, desperate to retrieve it.
But before his father, his modest cultivation was no match.
His actions outpaced his thoughts.
As he straightened, Lou Batian stamped his foot, pressing him back down.
The sharp “thwack” echoed loudly.
Their eyes met in silence, tensions thick as dust swirled between them, signaling the brewing storm.
“Dad, don’t eat it. I’ll agree to any condition.”
Lou Xiaotian pleaded urgently, attempting a bargain.
He understood all too well that if his father tasted the buns from Boss Lu, he would gain a rival.
The existing customers were already enough to give Lou Xiaotian headaches.
Even he had to line up early, fearing missing out.
“Hmph, your old man lacks nothing.”
Lou Xiaotian’s words plainly implied there was something special about these buns.
Defiant as ever, Lou Batian, with lightning speed, stuffed the entire bun into his mouth.
Too fast for Lou Xiaotian to intervene.
As expected, the broth exploded inside Lou Batian’s mouth, causing him to arch his hips defensively.
---
One had to admit—the father and son were truly cut from the same cloth.
Though he moved aside quickly, Lou Batian forgot he was still stepping on his own son.
Drip, drip.
Warm broth mixed with his father’s saliva landed on Lou Xiaotian’s face.
Feeling the heat, Lou Xiaotian’s world collapsed.
Humiliation!
Sheer, naked humiliation!
Unbearable.
His eyes reddened with fury, a blazing inferno within.
“Mother!”
Though he could not defeat his father, he could summon his mother to fight on his behalf.
“Son, you called me?”
At his cry, a woman of ethereal beauty appeared in the room, her gaze instantly taking in the entire scene.
Seeing her son nearly in tears from being bullied, her eyes sharpened like knives, swiftly piercing Lou Batian’s body.
They were cultivators; a mere thought could manifest into reality.
Thus, these blades were real steel.
In moments, Lou Batian bore several bleeding wounds.
Not fatal, but painfully sharp.
“You old bastard! How dare you bully my son? I’ll skin you alive!”
Her eyebrows furrowed fiercely, and her wrath shrank Lou Batian’s imposing frame into a cowering one, utterly unwilling to fight back.
“Madam, madam, please hear me out!”
Lou Batian scrambled about, clutching his head, speaking in a jumble, still with the bun half-chewed in his mouth.
He couldn’t spit it out—too delicious.
Were it not for the circumstances, he would have demanded his son reveal the bun’s origin under harsh interrogation.
This was utterly intoxicating.
“What’s that taste?”
“You’ve been hiding some delicious food from me?”
The lady’s delicate nose wrinkled, eyes suspiciously fixed on the oily sheen at Lou Batian’s mouth.
“Cough, cough, Mother, it’s like this: I bought this delicacy to offer to you, but Dad snatched it away and ate it himself, even trying to use force to make me submit.”
Lou Xiaotian accused, standing proudly with hands on hips, eyeing his father’s bruised head.
Hmph!
He, Lou Xiaotian, was not without his own backing.