Chapter 68: A spoiled little princess (Patreon)

Ning Rongrong had been spoiled rotten since childhood.

Her family was powerful and influential, and with her adorable wit and stunning beauty, all she had to do was cry, and adults would immediately rush to comfort her, giving her whatever she wanted.

Over time, she came to see tears as her most effective weapon.

But this left her naive and stunted—utterly unprepared for the harsh realities of the world.

In short, it was a failure of upbringing. At her age, it wasn't entirely her fault.

But how to fix it?

Flender's deliberate harshness was one approach.

And Lu Feng decided to help her further—by ignoring her outright.

Ning Rongrong's sobs hitched in surprise.

She hadn't expected not a single person from Lu Feng's group to come comfort her.

Especially Lu Feng himself, who didn't even spare her a proper glance—just a fleeting look laced with something that felt like disdain.

That stung worse.

He's ignoring me… and looking down on me?!

Wherever Ning Rongrong went, she was the center of attention, surrounded by countless admirers and sycophants.

Men would gaze at her with infatuation and fawning eagerness.

Just speaking to her felt like a privilege.

Earning a smile from her? A priceless gift.

Just like Oscar right now, groveling and pandering.

If Lu Feng had to describe such men in two words?

Pathetic simps.

Ning Rongrong had met plenty of Oscars—some even handsome. Why would she care about him?

Especially when Oscar wasn't just pitiful but downright creepy, particularly after seeing his soul skill.

A soul reflects the heart.

The skills one gained were tied to their true nature.

So when Oscar tried to comfort her, Ning Rongrong only felt like swatting away an annoying fly.

She was clever, too. She knew those men didn't just covet her looks—they also eyed her status as the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Clan's sole heir.

Sick of such hypocrisy, she'd sneaked away to train on her own.

The first time she saw Lu Feng was in line at Shrek Academy's entrance.

His striking handsomeness made him stand out even among the new students, but it was his demeanor—calm, confident, different—that caught her eye.

Yet back then, just like now, his gaze swept past her without lingering.

As if she were just another face in the crowd.

Meanwhile, she knew she stood out. She was the focus—boys like Tang San kept stealing glances, marveling at her beauty, fantasizing about her figure, even salivating.

Only Lu Feng didn't look. Only Lu Feng chatted and laughed with Xiao Wu like she was the sun.

It irked her.

Learning he was an assistant teacher raised him slightly in her esteem.

Then came Zhao Wuji's test.

Hearing about Lu Feng's unique martial soul, she'd even initiated conversation, asking for his banana.

And still, he ignored her.

Now? Not just ignoring her—disdaining her.

That hurt worse than Flender's scolding. Her pride shattered.

Tears welled in her wide, glistening eyes.

If she'd been faking earlier, she was crying now.

But—

It also lit a fire in her spoiled princess pride.

"Humph!" Ning Rongrong abruptly stopped crying, her tear-streaked face lifting defiantly as she stormed after them. "Lu Feng! You—stand right there!"

"What is it?" Lu Feng turned, eyebrow raised.

"What was that look earlier?" She planted her hands on her hips, pouting lips flushed with anger.

"What look?" He played dumb.

"You were looking down on me!"

"Yeah, I was."

"You—! You actually admit it?!"

"What, you asked, so I answered. Would you rather I lie to you?"

"Then… why? Why look down on me?"

"Do I really need to spell it out? You've had elite education—I'm sure you've heard every lecture and tired old proverb a thousand times. You know exactly how the world of soul masters works. Now move aside. You're holding up our supper." He waved her off like shooing a fly.

"You—! You're dismissing me?!" Stamping her foot, she nearly choked on her fury. "I challenge you to a fight!"

Ah, there we go.

A spoiled princess' pride belonged on the battlefield, not in petty tantrums.

Outwardly, Lu Feng feigned indifference. "Fine. If you can take one move from me, I'll concede."

"One move?! You're that arrogant?!" Rongrong's rage swallowed every trace of sorrow, her eyes practically shooting flames.

Zhu Zhuqing's brows twitched, amusement flickering—barely suppressed.

Even Xu Wei, the Star Crown Sect's prodigy nearing Soul King level, hadn't survived a single strike from Lu Feng. A twenty-something-ranked Ning Rongrong stood zero chance.

Lu Feng's third soul skill, Natural Truth, was every support-type soul master's nightmare.

So no, this wasn't disdain—just fact.

"Lu Feng, you're level 34 with twin martial souls—control, power, and support. Rongrong's pure support-type. Isn't this bullying?" Oscar cut in, transparently taking her side.

"Senior Oscar, she confronted me. She issued the challenge. And now me limiting it to one move makes me the bully? Tell you what—you two team up. If you survive one move, I'll still forfeit." Lu Feng's smile turned razor-edged. Courtesy? Gone.

"You—! That's beyond conceited!" Oscar's face flushed with humiliation.

Xiao Wu moved to mediate, but Zhu Zhuqing tugged her back, whispering something that made the rabbit-girl's ruby eyes gleam with sudden understanding. A smirk ghosted her lips as she stepped aside.

Zhu Zhuqing knew Lu Feng best.

Her quiet words to Xiao Wu: "He's doing this on purpose."

"Who are you?! Who asked you? Did I need your help?" Ning Rongrong, already seething, shredded Oscar's white-knighting with three icy questions.

His "heroism" had backfired spectacularly.

Awkward silence.

Oscar had just licked a red-hot iron rod.

He stood there, utterly humiliated, tongue-tied.

But in the original timeline, through sheer persistence, he'd actually managed to lick that iron rod until it wore down into a needle—and won Ning Rongrong's heart.

The key wasn't the licking. It was the never giving up.

Pickup artist rule #8: Persistence!

As the saying goes, "Familiarity breeds affection."

Not that time guarantees love—but without it, the chance is zero.

Yet with Lu Feng's arrival, the script was quietly being rewritten.

"Lu Feng, you said it yourself—if I survive one move, you lose." Ning Rongrong pointed at her glittering, diamond-studded heels, a sly glint flashing in her eyes. "If you lose, I want you on one knee, polishing my shoes."

Hidden in the woods outside the school gate, Zhu Zhuyun rubbed her forehead as she overheard Ning Rongrong's words. "That naive kid," she muttered. "Betting with Lu Feng? You're in for a rough time."

The mention of gambling stirred painful memories for Zhu Zhuyun.

In that bamboo forest, Lu Feng had spanked her—and he didn't hold back. She'd checked in the bathroom mirror afterward, and a red handprint glared back at her.

Thinking about it now, the spot he'd struck started to itch. Almost instinctively, she reached back, rubbing the curve hugged by her leather pants.

And that was just Lu Feng collecting "interest."

She still owed him that "three-day slave" debt.