Teacher by day, Farmer by passion - Chapter 102

Chapter 102: General Ming.
“Who are you people?”

General Ming’s voice no longer carried the arrogance he first started with.

No, there was hesitation now even a flicker of uncertainty.

Ace, standing tall and exuding an air of casual confidence, was prepared to answer.

His mind had already crafted something vague yet mysterious—something that would leave the general questioning everything while revealing absolutely nothing.

But before he could even open his mouth—

Liu Mei, without hesitation, took a step forward.

“We’re traveling cultivators,” she declared. “And I’m the strongest disciple he’s trained so far.”

“So far?” Shan Yifeng muttered under his breath, already exhausted.

Ace slowly turned his head to stare at Liu Mei. His expression plain, his carefully constructed words had shattered before they ever saw daylight.

There was no hesitation in her eyes.

Just pure, unshakable confidence in the nonsense she had just uttered.

Shan Yifeng, on the other hand, simply let out a long, tired sigh, his expression that of a man who had long since accepted his fate.

At this point, trying to understand anything his master did was a lost cause.

Ace finally turned his attention back to General Ming.

Now that he had a proper chance to assess the man, he took his time.

General Ming exuded power—broad shoulders, calloused hands, the unmistakable presence of a man who had seen war and survived.

The weight of his gaze alone was enough to send shivers through weaker cultivators.

Ace held his stare, unblinking.

Then, slowly… inevitably… his eyes drifted downward.

The mustache.

A square mustache.

His lips twitched. He inhaled through his nose. Steeled his will.

“Focus,” he told himself.

“Don’t get distracted.”

His lips twitched.

He pressed them together, fighting for his life.

But damn it—

That mustache.

“What’s so funny, huh?”

General Ming’s voice turned sharp as he caught Ace’s expression.

“You’re only standing here because your disciple blocked my attack!”

Ace blinked.

For a long moment, he simply processed those words.

And then he practically scolded the general inside his head.

“Wow. Look at this idiot.”

The audacity.

The sheer lack of self-awareness.

Did this fool not understand basic human logic?!

If a disciple was strong enough to block an attack from a Dark Gold Rank General, then shouldn’t that mean the master was even stronger?!

— That was Cultivation 101.

Of course…

“Well… he’s not exactly wrong right now… but still!”

Ace took a deep breath, forcing his mind to refocus.

And then—without a shred of hesitation—

“Did you fail art school?”

General Ming’s expression didn’t falter. His grip on his sword tightened, knuckles whitening, but his voice remained steady.

“What nonsense are you spouting?” he asked, dangerously calm. “Who are you, really?”

Ace met his gaze, fully prepared to answer—the words already forming on his tongue.

But once again, before he could speak—

“General Ming, please don’t be angry.”

A familiar voice cut through the tension.

Ace turned, watching as Hua Lesy stepped forward, her expression carefully composed.

Behind her, a small group of Hua family members followed closely. Among them was Hua Lin, the person he, for some unknown reason, clearly want to avoid.

“He and his two disciples are guests of the Hua family,” Hua Lesy continued, her voice steady but firm. “We will take full responsibility for their actions.”

Her words carried weight.

Even General Ming hesitated for a fraction of a second before shifting his gaze back to Ace.

His sharp eyes studied him once more, but this time, there was something different—a hint of skepticism, perhaps even amusement.

“Are you really her master? Or just her… toy?”

Ace felt an immediate wave of indignation.

“Of course, I’m her master! What makes you think I’m her toy?!”

General Ming raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“Well… she’s a Dark Gold Rank cultivator. And you—”

Ace didn’t let him finish.

“I have a realm concealment on,” Ace said smoothly.

General Ming’s lips curled slightly. “How convenient.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Ace shot back, unfazed.

For a long moment, the general studied him. The amusement in his eyes didn’t quite reach his posture—he was still ready to strike.

But in the end, he simply said, “I see.”

Just like that, the conversation ended.

Ace had no idea whether the general actually believed him or simply lost interest in pursuing the matter.

Either way, it seemed to have worked.

General Ming turned his attention away from Ace and focused on Liu Mei instead.

His expression, which had been stern only moments ago, softened slightly.

“I hope Master can visit the City Lord’s mansion for a chat.”

The words were spoken with an unmistakable sincerity.

Liu Mei stared back at General Ming, unblinking.

A tense silence settled between them—until Shan Yifeng finally spoke.

“You’ve been disrespectful to our master. For that reason alone, we refuse your invitation.”

His voice carried the weight of conviction, his posture firm.

General Ming blinked, completely bewildered.

“Who said anything about inviting you two?”

The confusion in his tone was almost comical.

Liu Mei turned to Ace without missing a beat, gripping his sleeve dramatically.

“”Master,” Liu Mei said, inching closer to Ace’s side, eyes locked on General Ming.

She then whispered, “I think he’s trying to infect me with his stupidity.”

General Ming, who had been caught off guard by Liu Mei’s previous remark, barely had time to recover when a sharp voice cut through the crowd.

“What’s the general doing when there’s clearly murder in the city? Why haven’t you arrested them yet?”

All eyes turned to the speaker—Xiao Ling.

Behind him stood a group of young cultivators, each exuding an air of wealth and privilege.

Their expressions varied, some amused, others indifferent, but all clearly confident in their standing.

It was obvious—they were all from influential families or standings.

Ace watched them approach, looking neither impressed nor particularly interested.

While Liu Mei wasn’t looking at Xiao Ling.

She wasn’t looking at the rest of his group, either.

Her eyes had locked onto one person and one person only—Icehart.

The young master of the White Ice Sect.

A dangerous chill settled in the air as her entire demeanor shifted.

Then she smiled—a slow, sharp thing that didn’t reach her eyes.

“There you are, monkey.”

Her voice, once soft and timid, carried a bite sharp enough to cut.

“Finally mingling with your kind?”