PREVIEW

... Shanxi.

  Different from the aristocratic families in Shandong, Dong Zhuo, who was born in Xiliang, has been exposed to people and things that have influenced his life since he was a child. It is not poetry and etiquette, but Qiang people and force.

   Belief in the fact that a big fist is the truth is very popular among the Qiang people who have no cultural heritage. There is nothing better than a fight to solve the problem. If there is still a conflict, then use a knife.

...

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“Y-young master, the Lord is requesting your presence.”

I looked at myself in the mirror as a maid's voice, laced with trepidation, reached my ears.

“Tell him I'll be there shortly.”

“I understand, y-young master.”

I paid no mind to her quivering presence, my gaze fixed on my reflection.

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“I suppose I need a workout.”

Reaching the door, exhaustion gripped me and I found myself gasping for breath. It was unbelievable – this body was so darn heavy.

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I tried to ignore the spectacle – it was this pampering that turned this fatty into a giant tire. Pushing the annoyance aside, I began to move, managing only about 10 steps before my legs gave out.

Damn it. Seriously? I collapsed, leaving the twenty servants to hastily lift me and place me onto the litter. For me, it felt more like a stretcher. There I was, sprawled on it like some mountain, panting heavily.

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“We're here, young master.”

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I ordered while cursing this hefty body under my breath.

“Oh, come, come, my dear child. How was your day?”

I glanced at the middle-aged man, his face exuding warmth and care.

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“I'm alright, Dad.”

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“What's going on, Dad?”

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“Your fiancee is coming tomorrow”

……………………………………………………………

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