Live Life with a Smile

In the brief silence, countless fluctuations of spiritus surged and ebbed. Malevolence stirred, masking latent intent to kill. At the very front of the crowd, someone forced words through gritted teeth: "Those seated here are all renowned veterans and formidable figures. Aren't your words a little too arrogant, Mr. Ji?" Ji Jue glanced over at the middle-aged man speaking up so "righteously," his brows furrowing in utter bewilderment. "Who are you again?" "..." The middle-aged man's expression darkened even further. He rose, clasped his fists, and declared, "I am Liu of Gray Port—" "Sorry, never heard of you. Next!" Ji Jue waved a hand, cutting him off, then turned back to remark to Minkler, "You see that? Reeking of lowlife bum, yet pretending he's somebody backing someone up. What a joke." The middle-aged man's face instantly flushed crimson with rage, bloodlust faintly surfacing in his eyes. In an instant, a sinister gust swept forward... Boom. Everyone's vision blurred. Ji Jue had not moved an inch, as though nothing had happened at all. The only difference was that under his foot was a contorted figure violently convulsing, foaming at the mouth, spitting threads of blood. In the dead silence, not a soul spoke. Faces stiffened one after another, brows furrowing tightly. A White Stag attacking an Embers at such close range—even putting aside the fact that he had somehow crashed and burned, the real issue was... not a single person had seen what actually took place! The God of War leapt into the air, took a vicious slap across the face, and immediately went to sleep like a God of War. The moment he pounced, he ended up right beneath Ji Jue's boot, thrashing and squirming endlessly like a maggot... Hell, even a maggot could spit some muck; what the fuck could you do?! Useless trash! "Coming into someone else's house as a guest and trying to get violent—no manners whatsoever." Ji Jue cast his gaze down at the blood-vomiting White Stag beneath his foot. "How are Ling Liu's people so undisciplined?" The middle-aged man convulsed, parting his mouth to speak, but Ji Jue's foot pressed down on his throat, choking off all sound. With a thud, he slumped against the floor. He had passed out. "Aiyo, misunderstanding, misunderstanding! It's all a misunderstanding!" From outside the doorway, a figure jogged inside, scruffy-bearded yet visibly young. Hunching over as he hurried up, he bowed and scraped before Ji Jue as though he had only just arrived. "A total misunderstanding, Mr. Ji! This thing named Liu is used to playing double agent; he really doesn't know his place. I didn't keep a tight enough leash on him—my sincerest apologies!" Ji Jue glanced over, finding him somewhat familiar. "Have we met?" "Yes, yes! The food in Xinquan is great, really does wonders for a man." Ling Shuo took off his sunglasses and bared his teeth in a grin. "You manage a myriad of affairs every day, sir. Back when you dealt with Pacquiao, I even lent you a hand... Ah, it was my lack of courtesy. Had I known you were in the Seven Cities, I definitely would have sent a calling card to request an audience first. Please forgive me, by all means forgive me." "Is that so?" Ji Jue smiled. "Yes, of course, absolutely!" Ling Shuo—who had personally betrayed Pacquiao in the past—nodded and bowed, hurried over with a chair, wiped it clean with his sleeve, and respectfully positioned it right behind Ji Jue. "Please, have a seat, sir. It's a rare privilege to learn from you." In the eerie silence, he stood meekly behind Ji Jue without the slightest concern for his own dignity, pouring tea and serving water. As for the maggot on the ground, he didn't spare him a second glance. Nor did he care about the bizarre looks directed at him from the rest of the room. Ji Jue didn't care either. He lifted the teacup, took a sip, and set it aside. "Backwater through and through—even the tea is hard to swallow." Shaking his head with a regretful sigh, he looked up at the silent crowd and suddenly smiled. "Talk! Keep going, everyone. Why did you stop? Let the music play, let the dancers dance! You have to live life with a smile, after all." * Bang! Amidst a burst of commotion outside the meeting room, someone shoved the doors open, interrupting the ongoing family council and barging straight inside! When everyone looked up, they were startled to see Minkler barging in, their brows furrowing at once. Some slammed the table and stood up in anger, about to lash out, only to watch Minkler sweep his eyes across the room and drop to his knees before Boggio at the head of the table like a collapsing golden mountain and falling jade pillar. Throwing his arms around Boggio, who was still seated in a wheelchair, he wailed at the top of his lungs, sounding as though he were weeping tears of blood. "Brother! Brother, aaaaahhh..." Clutching Boggio's one good leg, he beat his chest and stamped his feet. "Yesterday, you and I parted in haste, brother, but how did it come to this?! We were almost separated by life and death! Your younger brother almost never saw you again! Who was it?! Who dared to do such a thing?! I swear I will avenge you!" *Who the fuck else could it be!* Boggio wanted nothing more than to spit a mouthful of blood right into Minkler's face. *You dog, you actually have the fucking nerve to come put on an Oscar-worthy performance in front of me?!* Yet before he could even speak, Minkler's jostling threw him off balance. Minkler pushed down on Boggio's leg to haul himself up, wiped his tears with a sleeve, and roared furiously, "I know who it was! It's Luocheng! It must be those beasts from Luocheng! To humiliate us Chopras like this—I swear irreconcilable enmity against the Sukarno family! Everyone, rest assured: even if it means making an enemy of the Seven Cities, I will stand resolutely with our clan!" *Would you fucking knock it off already!* God knew how many people looked like they had just swallowed shit. Who the fuck brought this on in the first place?! If not for you, would the Chopra family even be at odds with the Seven Cities?! Yet Minkler couldn't care less. After finishing his weeping and posturing, he stood up, kicked aside Matik, who was still frozen in shock, and sat down right in his seat. Then, with an innocent look, he gazed around the room. "Please continue, everyone. Why is nobody speaking? Did I come at a bad time?" "Minkler—" Someone finally couldn't hold back any longer, furiously slamming the table and jumping up to roar, "You bastard seed! You still dare to show your face here? I—" "Nobody wants to speak? Fine, let me say a few words." Turning a deaf ear, Minkler leaned nonchalantly back in his chair, adjusted his collar with one hand, and abruptly spoke: "The family head has just passed, the clan is fractured, a pack of wolves lurks outside, Luocheng spies on us close at hand, and the hazard of the noxious wind looms in the distance. Truly, this is the hour when the great mansion teeters on the brink of collapse; our clan's survival hangs by a thread..." He suddenly slapped the table and boomed: "—I propose we advance the selection for the House God!" In an instant, dead silence fell over the meeting room once more. Everyone felt as though they were being force-fed one pile of shit after another, completely struck dumb. Exchanging glances, they looked toward Boggio, whose face had turned an ashen green. Gritting his teeth, Boggio fought the urge to curse Minkler's mother. *What the hell is this?!* *Everything this dog just said was my fucking script!* *What do you think everyone gathered here in this meeting room was talking about?!* *Since when is it your turn to make that kind of proposal?!* Boggio panted heavily, clutching his teacup so tightly it nearly shattered. Were it not for the terrifying display of strength from the night before, he would have already ordered his men to beat this dog Minkler out with clubs... Yet now, he had to play along and keep up appearances. He had to swallow his broken teeth and keep his mouth shut. Nod and agree? Impossible! Even if he had no idea what toxic trick Minkler was peddling, whatever an opponent wanted to do, the answer was simply to oppose it without thinking! "There are things you don't understand, Minkler," Boggio replied. "The selection for the House God can't just be moved up on a whim. The preparations are intricate, and everything must be handled with utmost prudence, or else we risk angering the House God..." "Is that so?" Minkler feigned bewilderment and countered, "From what I see, the clan's preparations look quite thorough. The incense and the parasol wood are all ready. If you aren't going to sacrifice them to the clan flame, why not just divide them among everyone? Save a bit for me too, so I can roast a couple pairs of chicken wings to taste." *Minkler, you motherfucker...* Before Boggio could speak again, Minkler suddenly smacked the table. "Why don't we go with the old rule, then—a vote!" He made the generous suggestion: "Clan affairs should ultimately be decided by the clan. Let's put it to a vote!" In the momentary silence, someone further down the table shifted their eyes and suddenly chimed in: "I think that works." "Fair's fair, it's not a bad idea." "Indeed, a vote is the fairest." "Right, right, let's vote!" "Count me in too!" There was even an infant wailing aloud, knowing nothing of what was going on, yet sounding as though it too agreed. In the entire meeting room, a third of the people remained silent, while the rest either nodded enthusiastically or voiced loud objections... In an instant, the room turned into a chaotic mess. Even though, from the perspective of the family's true interests, that silent third comprised the real pillars and backbone of the clan, unfortunately, who told everyone present to share the surname Chopra? Any person had human rights, and any Chopra was entitled to a vote—what was wrong with that?! Earlier, after Boggio joined forces with Sixth Sister, they had suppressed the opposing voices within the family. But now that Minkler was leading the charge, who wouldn't want to squawk a few times to show off their political leverage? Minkler smiled faintly, saying nothing. Boggio's eyes felt ready to burst. That bastard Minkler—this was exactly what he came here for! He came here just to stir the pot! Either way, whether it passed or failed, he won just the same. If it passed, he was the one who had spearheaded it, and he would showcase his influence within the clan. If he dared to make such a proposal, there was no telling what cards he still held up his sleeve. If it failed, he wouldn't care either—the designated heir ring of the patriarch was still on his finger, giving him the perfect excuse to keep stirring up trouble... At the thought, Boggio couldn't help feeling dizzy with fury. *Father, oh Father, you old bastard—you could have just died, but what the hell were you thinking before you kicked the bucket?!* He stared coldly at Minkler. Minkler looked right back at him. Smiling. A smile that made Boggio's hair stand on end. Outside the conference room, in the courtyard, the noise and bustle continued. Under countless probing gazes, Ji Jue sunbathed and sipped tea as though no one else were around, occasionally chatting with Ling Shuo, who waited on him, as if on vacation. Until someone finally couldn't hold back any longer and let out a sinister sigh. "A young hero indeed. I truly envy Mr. Ji's composure—to still remain so unruffled even now." An old woman seated near the front, wearing a benevolent facade, shook her head with a sigh. "Having offended that Tyrant, I'm afraid your days ahead won't be easy." "Heh." Ji Jue chuckled, not even bothering to address her directly. He merely turned to glance at Ling Shuo beside him. "See that? Going out and traveling around is the right choice after all. A person can't stay cooped up in a backwater forever. Stay too long, and you end up like a toad in a pit—without an ounce of worldly perspective." "You speak the truth, sir." Ling Shuo nodded repeatedly with a sycophantic grin. "Read ten thousand scrolls, travel ten thousand miles—I understand completely. My only regret is having read too few books and traveled too few roads." "It never hurts to develop a bit of perception. Don't be like a rat in a sewer that peeks its head out, catches sight of a stray dog, and ends up too scared to sleep." Ji Jue lifted his eyes and cast a glance toward the pretentious old crone, sneering, "Who do you think you are, and what status do I hold?" "He crossed me—it's his days that won't be easy!"