During the time Murong Fu was communicating with the system, he involuntarily closed his eyes. Immersed in the joy of acquiring a cheat, he had not yet had the chance to curse the system out.
"Why do I feel like the Young Master doesn't look sad enough?" Bao Butong nudged Deng Baichuan, who was kneeling beside him, and muttered in a low voice.
"Don't talk nonsense. The Young Master is stoic and unyielding. Faced with the great pain of losing a father, who among ordinary people could bear it, especially since the Young Master is still just a teenager? Being able to endure what others cannot is exactly why he is the brilliant leader we follow!"
Deng Baichuan hurriedly covered Bao Butong’s mouth, terrified that he might blurt out something even more reckless. At that moment, Madame Wang of the Murong Clan stood by, frail and not yet thirty years of age, while her son was already a tall, grown man. Bao Butong’s words were hardly appropriate for the occasion.
How could the dialogue between Bao Butong and Deng Baichuan escape the ears of those in the mourning hall? Setting aside Bao Butong’s booming voice, everyone present was an accomplished martial artist; in such a deathly silent environment, who could possibly fail to hear them?
With the system being a piece of trash and Bao Butong being a complete idiot, Murong Fu was truly speechless. This world of *Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils* was not a place just anyone could handle; his life really was filled with one tragedy after another. His four great retainers included a total buffoon. He had a system, but unfortunately, it was a piece of junk. He possessed his family’s supreme martial arts, but in the setting of this world, he was destined to be nothing more than a foil for the protagonists.
It was too bullying—it was simply too bullying.
"There! The Young Master’s expression is correct now," Bao Butong started muttering again.
Indeed, Murong Fu’s face was now full of bitterness, his brows tightly furrowed, appearing deeply aggrieved and consumed by sorrow.
At this moment, Murong Fu wanted nothing more than to throttle the idiot Bao Butong. He had been reborn into this life specifically to avoid social suicide. His predecessor’s life had certainly been a social catastrophe, unless a bolt of lightning were to strike and destroy his phone. Now, he had to deal with the psychological torment of this fool Bao Butong. Was he destined to suffer another life of public humiliation?
Once this business was settled, he would definitely use the thirty years of Internal Energy he had gained to slap some sense into Bao Butong. He would take this opportunity to make him practice martial arts diligently at his estate, but he absolutely could not let this dim-witted fellow follow him around. That loose mouth of his was like a walking map-artillery—he was afraid of dying, specifically of being angered to death. He had just sent off the "old dim-wit," Murong Bo, and had momentarily forgotten about this "young dim-wit." A lapse in judgment, a truly grave lapse in judgment.
After personally interring Murong Bo and finishing the funeral rites, he arranged for his mother, Madame Wang, to rest in the back courtyard.
He reflected on his life thus far. Before the age of two, due to the old man’s constant muttering and wild fantasies, Murong Fu had spent his days feeling muddled and drowsy. Later, Murong Bo, annoyed that Murong Fu kept wetting his robes, simply decided to put him on a full foundation-building regimen, using Internal Energy and medicinal baths to temper his body. Every day, he was either being force-fed energy or medicine, leaving him in a stupor, listless and uninterested in everything.
After he turned two, he began learning martial arts. Although his progress was rapid, how could Murong Fu, who in his previous life understood the principle of "whipping a fast ox," possibly show everything he was capable of? Even while being pushed by Murong Bo to train and study every day, he refused to reveal too much talent, which only worsened his situation of being tightly controlled. It could be said that the first twelve years of Murong Fu’s life were years dominated by Murong Bo.
Now, thanks to his prior forbearance and a flash of wit when the situation demanded it, he had obtained the thirty years of Internal Energy Murong Bo bestowed upon him at the brink of death. He now possessed forty years of Internal Energy, placing him among the ranks of top-tier martial artists in the pugilistic world; all he lacked was experience and combat seasoning.
"Sigh, that old fox Murong Bo must not be dead. If he were, it wouldn't just be a minor change to my life's trajectory, but a massive one. After all, the character of that old dim-wit is far too important in the *Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils* world."
"No, I have to run. I cannot stay at Canhe Manor any longer, or I’ll still be under the gaze of that old fox."
"Could I really kill my own father? I, Hero Murong, have my own code of conduct—there are things I will do, and things I will not."
"Alas, it’s just a pity about my peaches, and those top-tier beauties whose income will surely dwindle."
"Between two evils, choose the lesser. Give up the peaches. There will always be peaches, but I must urge the old man to head to Shaolin as soon as possible."
"Give it up. I, Murong Fu, hereby resolve to give up peaches from this day forward!"
Murong Fu opened his eyes, his gaze burning bright. At this moment, it was as if fortune itself had descended upon him, and he was filled with fighting spirit.
The rise of Murong begins with giving up peaches.