Chapter 8: The Bet

Chapter 8: The Bet

To be fair, Wang Weisheng always got a little nervous when facing Cheng Yi.

This bastard was born to mess with him; since childhood, he'd lost count of how many beatings he'd taken from this scoundrel.

So when he saw Cheng Yi raise his fist, Wang Weisheng couldn't help but wince.

During the year Cheng Yi was away, Wang Weisheng had talked all the smack he wanted, and his lackeys had blown smoke up his ass so much he'd lost all sense of reality.

He'd gotten used to it, forgetting that this bastard Cheng Yi had already come back to the capital.

The last thing he expected was for this bastard to be at Drunken Pavilion too, in the very next room.

The crew behind Cheng Yi all wore sneers, which only made Wang Weisheng lose even more face.

So he craned his neck, puffed out his chest, and cursed:

"I just wish you'd croaked in the Northern Frontier, ugh—"

Before Wang Weisheng could finish his rant, Cheng Yi grabbed him by the collar and hoisted him clean off the ground.

But the instant he lifted him, Cheng Yi's head spun and he stumbled a bit.

Wang Weisheng's eyes lit up—was this bastard actually drunk?

"Cheng Yi, put me down right now!"

"Fine, have it your way."

Cheng Yi let go without a second thought.

Thud.

Wang Weisheng landed flat on his ass, looking pathetic and utterly humiliated.

One side burst out laughing while the other fumed with rage; the two groups were instantly ready to tear each other apart.

"Cheng Yi, don't go too far!"

Wang Weisheng ground his teeth.

But Cheng Yi just gave him that same contemptuous look as always.

"Too far?"

"Wang Xiao Gou, my uncle has defended the frontier for years. He's led troops to repel foreign invaders countless times and racked up impressive military achievements. How dare you badmouth him?"

"Without my uncle holding the line with his troops, do you think a piece of trash like you could live such a cushy, indulgent life?"

"Do you have any idea how many battles they fight every year? How many enemies they kill? How many soldiers die? How rough their lives are? How many soldiers died without ever getting to eat a meal like this?"

Cheng Yi's voice was ice-cold, his eyes bloodshot—at that moment, he genuinely looked like he'd just stepped off a battlefield soaked in blood.

Wang Weisheng and his crew felt a cold shiver run down their spines.

"You piece of garbage—not only are you ungrateful, but you badmouth them behind their backs. What's your game?"

"I... when did I badmouth anyone?"

Wang Weisheng felt a chill go down his spine.

"You just said my uncle abused his power. Are all those ears deaf?"

Cheng Yi's stare was razor-sharp, every word slicing like a blade.

Wang Weisheng's heart was shaking, but his mouth stayed hard, and he wasn't completely brainless either.

"Grand General Cheng's accomplishments are second to none; I genuinely respect him. But whether you, Cheng Yi, are as tough as the legends claim—that's a whole other story."

"After all, nobody's watching. Whether it's true or not, it's all just talk."

Cheng Yi arched an eyebrow.

"Oh? So you've got a problem with me?"

Wang Weisheng puffed up his chest. "That's right, I've got a problem with you!"

Cheng Yi shook his foggy head. "Then do you have the guts to fight me?"

Cheng Yi's crew immediately started hollering and egging him on.

But Wang Weisheng wasn't carried away by the moment; he knew Cheng Yi's strength all too well—he'd never beaten him in all these years.

"I can't beat you anyway. What's the point in fighting me?"

"Then what do you propose?"

Cheng Yi looked annoyed, the unnatural flush on his face getting more obvious.

"Aren't you supposed to take on enemy generals solo? Aren't you supposed to be one against a hundred? Then prove it by going up against my two guards."

The moment he said that, curses exploded all around.

"Wang Xiao Gou, do you have no shame?"

"How do you even have the nerve to say that out loud?"

"You shameless coward, you're taking advantage of his state! Young General, don't fall for his trap!"

...

Wang Weisheng thought to himself, damn right he was taking advantage of the situation—if Cheng Yi weren't drunk, he'd never dare make this kind of bet.

This was a golden opportunity.

Seeing Cheng Yi frown, Lin Beixiao quickly stepped forward to talk him down:

"Ayi, I'm not doubting your skills, but you're really not in top shape today. Why not do it another day?"

"Exactly, Cheng Er. Don't underestimate that piece of trash Wang—his two guards are seriously tough."

Duke Wang doted on his grandson Wang Weisheng, so the guards he assigned to him were all handpicked experts.

"Tsk tsk tsk, he's scared shitless."

"The Little War God, one against a hundred—and he's scared, hahaha..."

"Too chicken to accept the challenge, afraid he'll be exposed, huh?"

The taunts kept coming nonstop, and by now, a crowd had already gathered to see what the fuss was about—it was packed outside.

Cheng Yi's face was even redder now, and his eyes were starting to glaze over.

It was obvious to anyone that he was drunk.

"Compete, then."

Lin Beixiao and his group wore worried expressions, but Cheng Yi paid their looks no mind, his eyes fixed solely on Wang Weisheng.

"What happens if I win, and what if I lose?"

A shrewd glint flashed in Wang Weisheng's eyes.

He had a feeling this was one of the few chances he'd ever get to beat Cheng Yi.

He racked his brain, hell-bent on devising a bet that would utterly humiliate Cheng Yi and make him never able to hold his head up around him again.

Just then, Cheng Yi's personal valet, looking worried, squeezed close to his ear and whispered:

"Young master, you can't do this. You've still got injuries on your back, and if you go home drunk like this, the Old Duke will give you another beating."

A lightbulb went off in Wang Weisheng's head—he figured out how to make Cheng Yi miserable for the rest of his life.

Hadn't the emperor arranged a marriage for Cheng Yi? He'd heard Cheng Yi nearly refused the imperial order right then and there, after which the Old Duke beat him until his skin was split open, forced him to kneel in the ancestral hall for days with no food or water. Even then, he wouldn't lower his head and marry that Shen Yichen.

Clearly, he was dead set against this marriage.

So what if he forced Cheng Yi to marry?

Wouldn't that mean Cheng Yi could never hold his head up again and would never have a good life?

Great, great, great. That's the plan.

Wang Weisheng blurted out eagerly, "If you win, I'm at your mercy, and from now on, I'll steer clear of any place you're at."

"But if you lose, you have to accept one condition from me."

"What condition?"

"I want you to obey the imperial decree and marry that Shen Yichen, and you can never divorce him for as long as you live!"

The crowd froze for a moment, then it clicked—they immediately thought Wang Weisheng was not just shameless but utterly vicious.

Everyone knew Young Master Shen's reputation was in the gutter, and Cheng Yi had already sworn he'd die before marrying.

Wasn't this ruining the guy's whole life?

"That's so vicious!"

"What a scumbag move!"

No one caught the flash of cunning that passed through Cheng Yi's bleary, drunk eyes.

His already dark eyes now looked positively menacing, and the flush from the drinking was now replaced by a cold chill.

"Say that again, you son of a bitch!"

Clearly, Wang Weisheng's request had touched a raw nerve.

Seeing this reaction, Wang Weisheng felt even smugger about his own brilliance.

"Ayi, this is about your lifelong happiness. You can't agree to this."

"Cheng Er, don't lower yourself to that shameless jerk's level. Don't fall for his trick."

"You're just scared, you don't have the guts, you're afraid of being found out—tsk tsk tsk, the Little War God is all talk."

Wang Weisheng, afraid he'd refuse, kept pouring fuel on the fire. Luckily, the drunk Cheng Yi was easy to provoke and actually agreed.

"Fine, let's compete."

His face darkened, as if he was at the peak of rage:

"If I lose, I'll accept your terms, but if I win, you'll kneel and apologize to my uncle in public, and swear that from now on, you'll call me grandpa every time you see me."

The crowd sighed to themselves. He was young and hot-headed, and with the drink in him, how could he stay calm?

The Little War God was probably going to take a loss this time.

Wang Weisheng was so gleeful he clapped his hands together, and afraid Cheng Yi might change his mind, he quickly had someone draw up a written contract, and both sides signed their names right then and there.

When the two guards came out, the crowd was once again stunned by how vicious this bastard was.

The two guards were obviously pros—tall, imposing, with eyes as sharp as daggers.

But Cheng Yi could barely even walk in a straight line.

Drunk Pavilion had a fighting stage for guests to duel on. By the time Cheng Yi and the two guards got on the stage, nearly every guest in Drunk Pavilion had crowded around.

Some came to watch the show, some to get the tea, and in no time, everyone had the full picture.

Everyone had expected Cheng Yi to lose, but no one expected him to lose in such a dramatic fashion.

At first, everyone figured that no matter how skilled Cheng Yi was, he was just a seventeen-year-old kid, and surviving three moves against two expert guards would already be a miracle.

But unexpectedly, Cheng Yi not only took on both at once but even managed to hold his own and dominate both experts.

This made the whole capital see this seventeen-year-old young general in a whole new light.

But before the crowd could even react, suddenly, Cheng Yi's step faltered, and just as he was about to win, he stumbled and toppled off the edge of the stage.

With a loud splash, water went flying everywhere.

Amid the chorus of gasps, Cheng Yi went tumbling straight into the lotus pond below the stage in utter disgrace.

The crowd erupted in a wave of sighs and murmurs.

If they hadn't fished him out in time, the brand-new Little War God might have drowned in that waist-deep lotus pond.

It was just... a complete joke.

Wang Weisheng was laughing his head off.

Tonight was enough to give him ammunition to mock Cheng Yi for the rest of his life.

Never mind how Cheng Yi was carried back to the Marquis Zhongyong's estate in such a pathetic state—by the next day, the news had spread all over the capital.

The news even made it straight to the emperor's ears.

At court, Emperor Zhaojing coldly watched the two old geezers below him glare daggers at each other, arguing till they were red in the face.

Duke Zhenguo called Duke Wang a shameless old coot, and said the grandson he raised was even worse.

"You despicable snake, kicking a man when he's down—shameless!"

Duke Wang shot back, mocking Duke Zhenguo for being a sore loser, sneering that Cheng Yi was too young and hotheaded to keep his cool.

"Why not just change your name to Cheng Mouse? If you can't handle losing, don't play! Who's really shameless? You've fought wars your whole life—haven't you heard all's fair in war? My grandson was sharp—he knew how to seize the moment!"

"Pah! If my grandson hadn't been drunk and banged up, your sneaky, rotten grandson wouldn't have stood a chance! Shameless! The whole lot of you are shameless!"

"Sore losers! Your whole family's a bunch of sore losers! Refusing to own up to a loss is shameless—and your grandson's the worst of the bunch!"

"You old dog, Wang..."

"You mouse, Cheng..."

The two venerable Old Dukes went at it in court till they were red in the face, and the spat got fiercer and more childish by the minute.

The ministers put on faces of "this is painful to hear," but inside they were stoking the flames and rooting for more!

Keep it up! This is gold!

The only one in the room not enjoying the show was Minister of Personnel Shen Yunhe.

The emperor had arranged a marriage between his eldest son and the Duke Zhenguo's family, yet he, the one actually involved, seemed to have no say in it at all.

The whole time, all he got was mockery and criticism—nobody gave a damn about his opinion or how he felt.

It was a total disgrace.

So he sat there with a scowl the whole time, humiliated and seething.

In his head, he cursed that disgraceful son of his over and over, just waiting for court to end so he could go deal with that shameful brat.

"Enough!"

Emperor Zhaojing finally rubbed his temples and put a stop to the headache-inducing bickering.

"All of you, silence."

This was giving him a headache.

He'd been overthinking it—how could these two old bastards ever team up?

With their decades of bad blood, the Duke Zhenguo's family would never hitch their wagon to the fifth prince.

But the emperor's word was law—were these people treating his marriage arrangement as a joke?

Emperor Zhaojing suppressed the surging frustration in his heart, then said coldly:

"So, two Old Dukes, what do you intend to do now?"

==========Author's Note:==========

Emperor: Look at the lousy idea I came up with.