The Boy on the Bamboo Horse, Green Plums Brewing Wine (Part Four)

Left Shore was never someone to be bullied, nor was he a coward who wouldn't strike back after being hit. He didn't seek trouble, but if anyone provoked him, he wasn't afraid to fight back. Beanie just happened to break Left Shore's taboo...

Left Shore showed no mercy, beating Beanie until his head was covered in lumps. Amid Beanie's constant wails and screams, Left Shore tossed the utterly defenseless Beanie out of the courtyard...

Smack—Beanie crashed to the ground, face down, instantly smearing blood all over his face.

“Ahhh—my universally adored face!” Beanie clutched his face with both hands, howling in misery...

Waaah, bastard! He would have his revenge, he would have his revenge! Damn brat, how dare you hit his face—you're dead meat.

Left Shore didn't even spare him a glance. He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, dragged his aching body back inside, and then bathed again in cold water.

Though Left Shore counted as a noble young man, he wasn't obsessive about cleanliness, but he also couldn't stand sleeping dirty.

Once he’d cleaned himself up, Left Shore took out his usual medicine and treated his own wounds.

Left Shore had been in the Assassin Alliance for half a year—he’d long since gone from a boy who only knew how to cry to someone used to medicating his own wounds. Early on, he couldn’t bring himself to use enough force, or he’d flinch from the pain, but now?

Left Shore couldn’t see the wounds on his face, so he simply smeared medicine wherever it hurt, not even caring how much it stung. Ever since his ruthless master tricked him into coming here, he knew he had no choice but to accept his fate—there was no second path.

Did you think Left Shore never considered leaving?

Of course he had—especially during his first month here, Left Shore thought of leaving every moment. If he'd known martial training and becoming strong would hurt this much, he never would've followed his master. But now?

As his master put it: once you board a pirate ship, you either become a pirate or get killed by pirates.

His master asked him—which road would he choose?

But did he really have a choice? If he wanted to live, he had to side with the thieves and become the best assassin in the trade.

That's right—either do nothing, or do it better than anyone. Since he had to walk among assassins and couldn't escape this circle, he'd have to become the very best, so no one could restrain him. He could go wherever he pleased...

Left Shore cleaned himself up and collapsed onto the bed to sleep...

He had to rest up—tomorrow would bring brutal training, and he couldn't afford to fall. But the next day, what awaited Left Shore wasn't harsh training, but harsh punishment—for injuring the Young Lord!

That's right, that silly, dumb little brat was their Young Lord. But expecting Left Shore to treat that idiot kid as his master? Dream on.

If you want him to acknowledge a master—fine! Beat him first.

His master asked Left Shore if he knew he was wrong, told him to promise never to make the same mistake again, and that if he ever fought with the Young Lord, he had to hold back...

His master only asked to protect Left Shore. Even though Left Shore had beaten Beanie, he was still a newcomer and hadn’t hit that hard—Beanie would be fine in ten days to half a month.

Left Shore was talented, hardworking, and low-maintenance—his master valued him and genuinely wanted to protect him. But Left Shore refused to accept his kindness...

Left Shore gritted his teeth and refused to admit fault: “I did nothing wrong. He provoked me—I only did what I ought to do.”

“I didn’t make any mistake, so I won’t promise anything. But there’s one thing I can guarantee: if anyone hits me, no matter who it is, I’ll always hit back!”

That was Left Shore. No matter how awkward his status, no matter how difficult his situation, his pride never changed.

“Is it really so hard to just admit fault?” His master, face as cold as Left Shore’s, was helpless.

In this situation, even his master couldn’t protect Left Shore. Sure enough...

The elders all agreed: if Left Shore wouldn’t admit fault, he’d have to accept punishment.

Left Shore scoffed at the so-called punishment. He didn’t think he’d done anything wrong—the wounds inflicted on him weren’t punishment at all, but proof that he was too weak and could be bullied...

Left Shore was flogged—forty lashes...

How could such a small child endure forty lashes? Yet Left Shore didn't even blink—he took it all. When they finally cut him down from the punishment rack, he was soaked in blood, his little body limp and powerless, collapsing to the ground. If not for the slight flutter of his eyelashes, everyone would've thought he was dead.

“Stubborn!” Left Shore's master cursed angrily, flung his sleeves, and left. Soon, everyone else was gone too—the vast Hall of Justice was suddenly empty, leaving only Left Shore lying in a pool of blood...

Left Shore had no idea how long he'd been unconscious. Anyway, when he opened his eyes, he was still in the same spot—not moved an inch...

Heh... Left Shore gave a bitter laugh. He figured he might die here, paying for his stubborn pride with his life—but he didn't regret it!

The whip hurt like hell, but if he had to choose again, he'd still take the flogging.

Left Shore closed his eyes helplessly. He didn't expect anyone to rescue him—in the Assassin Alliance, that brat was everyone's treasure. No one would risk offending the kid and the elders for Left Shore's sake. But...

Just then, Left Shore's master appeared.

No one paid attention to Left Shore. Only when his master sneaked out did he carefully carry Left Shore back to his room, set him gently on the bed as if he were precious.

“Stubborn kid.” While cleaning Left Shore's wounds, his master shook his head...

“You’re excellent. Whether as a warrior or an assassin, you should have this kind of spirit and attitude.” Left Shore’s master didn’t know if Left Shore could hear him. He wasn’t lecturing, just letting Left Shore know that, as his master, he genuinely admired his choice. But...

Beanie was the Young Lord—he had to protect the Young Lord, never let anyone harm him. Not even his own disciple was an exception.

Sigh...

Left Shore’s master sighed, finished cleaning his wounds, fed him a few healing pills, and felt his forehead to make sure he didn’t have a fever. Then he sat cross-legged on the floor to watch over Left Shore.

Even though Left Shore’s master cared deeply, he didn’t dare show it too openly. At first light, he left to avoid being discovered—but even that was enough to warm Left Shore’s heart.

His master might be cold-faced and ruthless in killing, but he truly was a good person—at least to Left Shore, he was genuinely good...

So, under his master’s secret care, Left Shore slowly healed. Three months later, he was able to train normally again...

But on the very first day Left Shore returned to training, he ran into Dorian Owen, who’d been searching for him all this time!

Ever since Left Shore beat him three months ago, Beanie had obsessed over it. He couldn’t believe that, after beating everyone in the Assassin Alliance, he’d lose to a cool kid like Left Shore...

Beanie had always been on the winning side. He couldn’t accept this humiliating defeat— for the Assassin Alliance’s “number one expert,” it was pure disgrace.

“I have to wipe away this shame!” Beanie spent half a month recovering, then started training like mad and searching everywhere for Left Shore.

He was determined to defeat Left Shore!

Now that Beanie had found Left Shore, there was no way he’d let him go...