Teacher by day, Farmer by passion-Chapter 103: Monkey in silk.

The air turned sharp, heavy with unspoken hostility. Xiao Ling's expression twisted in irritation, but it was Icehart who reacted first.

His usually cold and unreadable face darkened, a rare flicker of emotion breaking through his icy demeanor.

This content is taken from fгeewebnovёl.com.

His grip on the hilt of his sword tightened, and a faint layer of frost spread across the ground beneath him.

"I told you to stop calling me that!" His voice was loud.

Liu Mei's eyes glowed with amusement, but beneath it, there was something sharper.

Something that cut deeper than just playful mockery.

"Why wouldn't I?" she asked, tilting her head. "No matter how fine the silk, a monkey remains a monkey. Dress it up all you want—it won't change what it is."

The crowd stiffened. Some sucked in sharp breaths. Others took a cautious step back.

Icehart's name alone commanded respect. As the young master of the White Ice Sect, he was someone few dared to offend.

His strength, his talent, his status—everything about him placed him above the average cultivator.

And yet, Liu Mei spoke as if none of it mattered.

As if the weight of his sect, his achievements, his very presence meant nothing to her.

His eyes turned glacial.

"You think just because you beat Xiao Ling in the tournament, you're untouchable?" Icehart said, his voice calm but edged with steel.

Liu Mei laughed.

Not the lighthearted kind nor was it the amused kind.

It was the quiet and unbothered type.

Unshaken.

"You're angry because I beat you too, aren't you?" she said.

Icehart's mask of indifference cracked.

A muscle in his jaw twitched, and his breath misted in the air as a faint layer of frost spread from beneath his boots, creeping like veins of ice through the stone pavement..

During the Dragon and Phoenix Tournament, he had fought against Liu Mei. He had underestimated her—just like everyone else had.

And he had lost.

Even now, months later, that fact burned him more than he cared to admit.

Xiao Ling, still sour from his own defeat, scoffed. "Hmph. The only reason you won was luck. If you fought again, it'd be a different story."

Liu Mei's gaze slid toward him.

"Luck?" she echoed.

Her lips curled slightly.

"Believe that if it helps you sleep at night, Xiao Ling. But you already know the truth, don't you?"

Xiao Ling's face darkened yet he took a bold step forward, his gaze sweeping over the carnage within the ruined inn.

His voice rang with authority, sharpened by the weight of his sect's influence.

"General Ming, are you just going to stand there?" he demanded.

"There are corpses littering the ground, and yet, you've taken no action. Do your duty and arrest them!"

His words stirred the surrounding crowd.

The scene was undeniably grim—bodies, blood, and the heavy, suffocating scent of death.

General Ming, who had been watching silently, narrowed his eyes.

He wasn't one to be easily swayed, but the pressure of influential families couldn't be ignored.

His grip on his weapon tightened slightly.

Liu Mei arched an eyebrow, as if she had just heard the most ridiculous thing in the world.

"Arrest?" Her lips parted in mock surprise. "On what grounds, exactly?"

Xiao Ling scoffed, his confidence unwavering.

"You killed them, didn't you?" His voice rang clear, feeding the tension.

"You and your little junior brother—slaughtering people in the middle of the city like lawless beasts!"

Liu Mei chuckled, a quiet sound that sent an unsettling chill through the air.

"Ah, I see. You're trying to sound righteous now." She took a step forward, her gaze unwavering as she met his eyes.

"Tell me, Xiao Ling—if we were the ones committing murder, then what does that make the people who ambushed us?"

Xiao Ling faltered for a fraction of a second, but quickly recovered.

"What proof do you have that you were ambushed?" he shot back.

"All I see are dead bodies, and you standing over them."

Liu Mei spread her arms in mock helplessness.

"Oh? Is that how justice works? 'We don't need proof, we just need someone to blame'?" Her smile widened.

"That sounds less like righteousness and more like stupidity."

Xiao Ling clenched his fists, his frustration evident. "Watch your mouth!"

"Or what?" Liu Mei's voice dipped, turning cold.

"You'll start a fight in front of General Ming? In the middle of a crime scene? Right after demanding an arrest for violence?"

Xiao Ling's expression stiffened. He was trapped.

If he attacked her now, he'd be contradicting his own demands.

From the sidelines, Ace remained seated, resting his chin on one hand, watching the exchange with mild interest.

His expression was unreadable—relaxed, yet perceptive. He made no move to intervene.

General Ming observed it all in silence. He could see it clearly now—Xiao Ling had come expecting an easy accusation, expecting to force the city's hand against Liu Mei and Shan Yifeng.

Now, he looked like a fool.

And Liu Mei… she looked like someone who enjoyed making fools of others.

Shan Yifeng, who had been a silent pillar throughout the exchange, finally moved.

"General Ming, if I may."

His words immediately drew attention.

The weight in his tone was not one of mere justification—it carried something more. Something final.

He turned his gaze toward the crowd before settling his eyes on Xiao Ling.

"You forced my hand." His voice remained steady, but there was an underlying sharpness to it.

"I didn't want to do this… because Master was once part of the Xiao family."

He turned and began walking.

The atmosphere shifted. There was something unnerving about the way he moved, his steps slow but assured.

The crowd, uncertain but intrigued, followed behind.

General Ming gave a signal to his troops, and soon, they were all moving as well.

The unrelated onlookers had already been dispersed, leaving only those directly involved.

Soon, they arrived at a seemingly ordinary section of the inn's outer wall.

Shan Yifeng came to a stop, his eyes narrowing as he studied the space before him.

Shan Yifeng exhaled softly, then raised his hand. A subtle motion, barely perceptible—yet the air itself wavered in response.

The stone wall, so solid and unyielding just moments before, seemed to shimmer, as if reality itself was peeling away..