Beanie Arrives on a Bamboo Horse, Green Plum Goes to Brew Wine (11)

Beanie smashed his head so hard that he knocked himself out on the spot. But since it happened late at night, no one realized until early the next morning, when everyone found out that Beanie had split his own head open...

The Assassin Alliance elders were both furious and embarrassed, but since Beanie had injured himself, they really couldn’t punish Left Shore for it...

They still cared about their reputation—they weren’t Beanie, after all!

In fact, only those few elders in the Assassin Alliance were upset about Beanie’s head injury. Everyone else thought Left Shore was awesome!

As for Beanie himself?

After splitting his head open, Beanie was in so much pain he almost fainted. He regretted it a little, but...

The moment his senior brothers gave him a thumbs-up and praised him, all his regret vanished into thin air: he was the bravest Beanie!

'Left Shore, look! My head’s split open too. I told you I wouldn’t take advantage.' Beanie pointed proudly at the wound on the back of his head.

Left Shore really didn’t want to crush Beanie’s spirits. In all his life, he’d never met anyone so stupid. Beanie ought to be called ‘Stupid to Death’ from now on...

Left Shore quietly glanced at Beanie, nodded at him, and even said 'Mm' for comfort, afraid Beanie would feel bad. But...

Beanie’s brain just didn’t work like normal people’s. He took Left Shore’s reaction as praise—if he had a tail, it would be wagging right now.

Thank goodness Beanie isn’t a girl, or I’d have to say, ‘Girls grow up and can’t be kept at home!’ Beanie’s master was nearly in tears, dumbfounded by his disciple’s stupidity.

The other elders were about to cry too. 'We’ve really failed,' they lamented. To have taught the Young Lord to be this dumb—maybe they were all idiots themselves?

'The Young Lord is still a child. He’s just naive—he’ll grow out of it in a few years,' Left Shore’s master consoled everyone.

All the elders agreed wholeheartedly. Their Young Lord was just too young... Of course, they’d never admit that Left Shore was younger than the Young Lord!

Boohoo... this fact was just too sad!

A month passed quickly—enough time for Left Shore and Beanie to recover. By the day of the match, their head wounds had healed enough not to bleed anymore.

On the day of the match, Beanie couldn’t contain his excitement. He got up before dawn to pick out his clothes: 'Does red look best, or black? Or maybe blue? Wow, green looks nice too...'

'Ahhh, how am I supposed to choose from so many outfits?'

'Maybe white? No, no—if I fight, it’ll get dirty right away.'

Red? That’s no good—if I don’t get hurt, people will think I’m bleeding.

Black? No way... it doesn’t suit my heroic style.

Blue? Too flashy—Left Shore will definitely say I’m showing off.

Green? That’s just the color of grass!

White? People might think I’m at a funeral, wearing mourning clothes.

Yellow? That’s just the color of poop! If I wear that, Left Shore will definitely tease me and say I fell in the latrine.

... (Beanie keeps fussing over his clothes)

Beanie spread all his clothes out on the bed, picking through them endlessly. The servant taking care of him was about to go crazy...

Young Lord, you’re going to a fight, not a matchmaking session!

If you get knocked out with one punch, it won’t matter how good you look!

You’re going up against Left Shore—who cares what he says about you? Just beat him!

The servant tried every argument, but Beanie wouldn’t budge. Today he wanted to defeat Left Shore not only in strength, but also in spirit.

'No slacking off—today’s the day I reclaim my title as number-one expert. It has to be grand!' Beanie insisted. The servant, helpless, finally offered a good suggestion: 'If it’s such an important day, wear red—red is festive.'

Beanie hesitated for a moment, then nodded firmly. 'Red it is.'

But... (something goes wrong)

'Why is this outfit so tight?' Beanie stared at his stretched clothes, feeling sad. 'The laundry people shrank my clothes again—so annoying!'

Beanie absolutely refused to admit it was because he’d gotten fat.

'Too tight to move—let’s try black instead?' The servant searched and found the largest outfit.

Color didn’t matter—what mattered was whether it fit. The Young Lord seemed to have gotten much fatter; out of all those clothes, barely any would fit.

Black is like a crow. All the assassins wear black—Beanie didn’t want to look like everyone else.

Left Shore is definitely wearing black,' the servant said, finally invoking Left Shore’s name. Sure enough...

When Beanie saw Left Shore also wearing black, he reluctantly agreed, 'Since Left Shore’s in black, I’ll wear black too.'

This black outfit was the largest one Beanie owned, so it definitely wasn’t too small. Beanie was very satisfied—especially when he saw Left Shore wearing black at the match and got even happier.

So why did Beanie, who got up so early, still arrive later than Left Shore?

It was simple—after picking his clothes, Beanie insisted the servant style his hair like a 'jade tree in the wind.' He had to look cooler than Left Shore today...

Faced with Beanie’s demands, the servant had no choice but to obediently style his hair as requested.

All this fuss cost Beanie his time advantage. And before leaving, he still had to pick a sword.

The servant nearly knelt in despair. 'Young Lord, weapons aren’t allowed in Alliance matches.' Disciples must not kill their own!

'I know, I never said I’d use the sword.' Beanie glared at the servant and kept picking through the armory.

No one else could enter the armory, but Beanie could...