I Am the Dragon King 02

Fang Zhiyi descended the stairs just in time to see Xia's Mother gripping the handrail. She had also heard the screams from above and the furious shouts of her husband. When she noticed Fang Zhiyi coming down, her expression turned hostile, yet tinged with fear—who knew if this good-for-nothing might hit her too? So she turned to leave.

"Hey, you there."

Xia's Mother’s eyes widened in disbelief—Fang Zhiyi had just called her "you there"! The audacity of this insolent bastard! But as she spun around indignantly, she saw Fang Zhiyi casually grasp the wooden orb decoration on the solid handrail and, with a light squeeze, crush it into splinters.

The curses died in Xia's Mother’s throat.

"I'm hungry. Have someone make me something to eat," Fang Zhiyi said, brushing past her as he swaggered toward the dining room. "If it’s not good, I’ll twist your head off and use it as a stool."

Xia's Mother instinctively touched her neck. Though fear flickered in her eyes, rage quickly overtook it. As one of the elite families of Jiang City, when had she ever been treated like this?

But for now, she had to bide her time. This useless son-in-law had somehow become alarmingly formidable.

While Fang Zhiyi ate, the three members of the Xia family gathered in the study to discuss their next move.

"He actually threatened me!" Xia's Mother fumed, hands on her hips.

Xia Wuyue sat quietly, her nose bandaged, making her look almost comical. Her thoughts were unreadable.

"That waste suddenly knows how to fight? But before, he was clearly..." Xia Bingbao’s gaze lingered on his daughter’s face. "Could Father have known about his skills? Is that why...? No, no—then why would he pretend to be so pathetic? Was he playing the fool to catch us off guard?"

"Who cares if he’s a fool or a tiger? I want a divorce!" Xia Wuyue snapped, her composure crumbling. She had merely disliked her husband before, but now she loathed him.

Xia's Mother looked at her daughter’s injured nose with pity. "Yes! Let that worthless trash get out of the Xia family!"

Xia Bingbao shook his head. "If we do that, Father’s inheritance won’t be ours anymore."

"That old bastard must’ve lost his mind! Even on his deathbed, he had to pull this stunt!" Xia's Mother spat venomously.

Xia Bingbao didn’t react to her insulting his father. In fact, he agreed with her.

"So what do we do? Just let him strut around like he owns us?"

Xia Bingbao glanced toward the door. "I have an old friend—a master from an ancient martial arts family. I’ll ask for his help. There’s no way this trash can stand against real martial artists!"

Fang Zhiyi couldn’t care less. To him, this world was just a vacation. After finishing his meal, he headed straight to his room. Since Xia Wuyue’s door had been kicked in, he decided to switch rooms—moving into Xia Bingbao’s bedroom instead. He even summoned the butler and ordered him to throw out all of Xia Bingbao’s belongings.

Though the butler also looked down on this son-in-law, professionalism kept his disdain hidden. "Young Master, this isn’t appropriate. The family head will be furious." As the butler, he was well aware of the day’s events and had no intention of provoking this suddenly unpredictable man.

"Inappropriate?" Fang Zhiyi flexed his wrist before driving his fist straight into the wall—wooden though it was, the impact made the butler’s eyelid twitch. "Go tell him his dearest son-in-law wants his room. Ask if he has any objections. You have three minutes."

The butler wiped sweat from his brow, nodded, and immediately called Xia Bingbao for instructions.

To his surprise, Xia Bingbao agreed—though his voice trembled slightly.

The butler quickly arranged for servants to remove Xia Bingbao’s belongings and replace the bedding.

Fang Zhiyi finally enjoyed a peaceful, uninterrupted nap.

When he woke up, he didn’t bother fixing his messy hair or dressing properly before heading downstairs. The Xia family was filthy rich—why hadn’t they given him any spending money? How absurd that he, the Dragon King, didn’t even have a single coin to his name!

Downstairs, he found the entire family gathered in the living room, all eyeing him with hostility. Seated near the entrance was a middle-aged man with graying hair, exuding an aura of quiet strength.

"Zhiyi, you’re awake? I was just about to call you." With an outsider present, the Xia family had to maintain appearances. If word got out that they mistreated their son-in-law, it would spell trouble.

Fang Zhiyi looked at Xia's Mother’s forced smile and nearly gagged, covering his mouth and taking a deep breath.

"You—!" Xia's Mother shot to her feet.

"We have a guest—behave!" Xia Bingbao quickly intervened.

Grumbling, she sat back down.

"Zhiyi, this is Master Lu Chuan. He’s heard of your martial prowess and wanted to meet you." Xia Bingbao’s eyes gleamed with malice. He had already briefed Lu Chuan on Fang Zhiyi’s abilities, including the crushed wooden orb, but Lu Chuan dismissed it all as child’s play. To a true martial arts master, such tricks were nothing.

"Oh, so you hired a thug?" Fang Zhiyi didn’t bother sparing their dignity.

"You—Zhiyi, we’re family. How can you say such things?" Xia Bingbao had already planned everything. He’d paid a hefty sum to ensure Lu Chuan’s cooperation. Once Fang Zhiyi was crippled, they could force him to file for divorce and claim the inheritance. No more waiting—this sudden change in the "useless" son-in-law unsettled him.

"Shall we spar, young man? Here or outside?" Lu Chuan rose smoothly, chin raised in disdain.

Fang Zhiyi grinned. "Can’t fight indoors—who’d pay for the broken furniture? Let’s take it outside."

Lu Chuan scoffed and turned to leave. But after just two steps, a sharp gust of wind whistled toward the back of his head!

"You dare—!" Before he could finish, a loud crack echoed as wood splintered. Fang Zhiyi stood holding a broken chair leg. "Wow, your head’s pretty hard."

Lu Chuan whirled around, eyes burning. This rat had ambushed him?

"What? You came here as a hired goon, and now you want to lecture me about honor?" Fang Zhiyi grabbed a vase and swung again.

Lu Chuan’s eyes widened. Strange—he should’ve dodged, yet the vase seemed to follow his every move!

Another crash. Silence filled the room.

Blood trickled from a gash on Lu Chuan’s forehead.

"Fang Zhiyi, you’re dead!" He lunged forward, veins bulging along his arms.

Fang Zhiyi turned and bolted, shouting, "So scary!" as he ran. Lu Chuan chased, baffled—no matter how close he got, Fang Zhiyi always slipped away at the last second.