This middle-aged woman was the guardian of the boy rolling on the floor—ājùn’s (ājùn，阿俊) desk mate’s mother. Upon hearing her son had been bullied, she rushed over. Her speed was impressive.

  With half-curled hair and a face covered in a mask, she glared at the teachers, then stormed over and lifted her precious son.

  Seeing his mother, the boy clung to her like a lifeline, sobbing loudly and accusing ājùn. Everyone—including ājùn—was stunned. Their eyes held complex emotions. Those who knew, knew.

  Under his mother’s comfort, the boy calmed down. The teacher, ready to mediate, opened her mouth—only for the mother and son to launch a coordinated attack, accusing ājùn of bullying the weak. The room fell silent.

  Except for the homeroom teacher. Despite the pressure, she stood firmly on the side of justice, trying to defend ājùn—only to be harshly scolded herself.

  Unable to watch the kind teacher be humiliated for his sake, the weakened ājùn gathered his courage and tried to explain to the woman. But such noble behavior meant nothing to people like her. Not that he was wrong—just that it was useless.

  The mother and son refused to see their own faults. They insisted others were to blame, even threatening to call the principal and have ājùn punished on the spot. The teacher was alarmed.

  Though it wasn’t ājùn’s fault, a fight had occurred. The other side was strong and relentless. The teacher had no choice but to plead on his behalf. ājùn stood frozen, watching the kind teacher humble herself for him. His heart ached. But murmurs of justice began to rise among the crowd.

  Still, the woman wouldn’t back down. Her mouth fired nonstop, words sharp and oppressive—like a machine gun aimed at a child. ājùn felt dizzy, his body struggling to stay stable.

  After a while, the mother and son tired from their performance. Believing they’d won, they rolled up their sleeves, ready for the final blow.

  “Hey! You skinny thing—what’s your name? Where are your parents?”

  “Mommy, he’s called Zhūgě Jùn (Zhūgě Jùn，诸葛俊)!”

  Due to his earlier exertion and the verbal assault, ājùn’s body began to fail. Supported by the teacher, he had no strength to speak. The boy, smug, revealed his name—excited to win, grinning ear to ear.

  “What’s his name? Zhūgě… Jùn… huh—baby, are you sure it’s Zhūgě?”

  “Of course! He’s the one they always talk about—the abandoned child. Mommy, teach him a lesson!”

  Upon hearing the name, the woman hesitated. Her chubby face went blank. Her arrogance began to fade.

  “Mommy!”

  But her son kept crying and urging her. She gathered her courage, squinted around, eyes sharp, and called for the guards.

  “Hmph—Zhūgě… Jùn, huh? Don’t think I’m scared. I was raised tough. I hate bullies—go!”

  At her command, the guards rushed in, pulled the teacher aside, and prepared to teach the boy a lesson. Hmph, with guards, it’s safe. Even if questioned later, our family won’t be blamed. They’re just temps—get it?

  The woman shielded her son and glared at the teacher, secretly proud. “Smart move,” she thought. “So what if he’s from the Zhūgě family?”

  But she forgot one thing…

  —ājùn isn’t someone you can bully so easily. He has backup too…

  “You said… who’s the bully here?”

  The situation had reached a boiling point. The classroom shifted from silence to subtle unrest. Murmurs and protests grew—until a loud voice echoed from outside. A familiar figure appeared. The atmosphere flipped.

  Just as the mother and son prepared to enjoy the show, a middle-aged man pushed open the door and entered… It was the Strategist.

  “Ah, you’re finally here!”

  At that moment, the teacher broke free and rushed to protect the staggering student. “Finally, a real savior,” she thought. Normally, the Strategist wouldn’t come—those two parents were enough.

  But due to a sudden beast outbreak outside the city, he had to come himself. After all, this mess was his idea.

  The dazed child saw his family and felt instantly better. The Strategist didn’t disappoint. With a composed look, he strode to ājùn, checked on him, and ignored the mother and son—only glancing at them briefly.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  The woman clung to her son, suddenly quiet. “Huh? Why is he here? What’s his connection to that kid?”

  She pondered, her face growing awkward, hands trembling, a bead of sweat sliding down her shiny cheek…

  —No… impossible. Let’s wait and see.

  “Strategist…”

  “Little Jùn—can you hold on?”

  “Uncle… mm… I’m okay…”

  “You rascal… haha, not bad. That palm strike was solid!”

  This moment of recognition—between mentor and student—may mark the beginning of a new chapter in ājùn’s journey.

  Listening to the exchange between the strategist and the boy, the plump woman still couldn’t guess his intentions. She froze, unable to move. The guards who had been ready to act… mysteriously vanished.

  “You’re here? Uh, this child?”

  “—Him? Mm, my godson, right?”

  The strategist smiled at ājùn (ājùn，阿俊), then let out a dismissive snort. That was enough for the woman to realize the situation. Thankfully, she hadn’t gone too far—maybe there was still room to retreat. She began quietly tugging her son, ready to slip away…

  “Hey, where do you think you’re going—no manners at all!”

  Just as the mother and son turned to leave, the strategist barked again. The woman trembled, frozen in place.

  “Come on, greet your elders—Little Jùn, watch closely!”

  “Um… Uncle-grandpa, hello!”

  “And?”

  “I…”

  “Hmm?”

  Seeing the woman hesitate, the strategist glared and pointed at ājùn.

  “That… um, Uncle.”

  “Mommy, why are you calling that guy… Uncle? He’s my enemy! Help me teach him a lesson!”

  “—Shh!”

  Seeing her son still acting out, the woman quickly covered his mouth and forced a smile. “He’s just a child, doesn’t know better. Please don’t take offense… Come on, greet your uncle-grandpa!”

  At last, ājùn’s opponent had to back down. He glanced helplessly at the classmates around him, then lowered his head. Tears welled up in his eyes—half crying, half laughing. He seemed dazed.

  Suddenly, the classroom erupted in thunderous applause. Kids cheered, voices rising. The homeroom teacher and other staff, clearly holding back laughter, clutched their stomachs, trying to stay composed.

  As for ājùn, still feeling unwell, his reaction was slow. Though his mood had lifted, his mind hadn’t caught up. He stood there, confused.

  He even felt… another pair of eyes watching him. It made him uneasy.

  The strategist gently patted his head, smiled, then turned serious. He punished the mother and son: public apology, school-wide reprimand, and copying the Three Character Classic a thousand times.

  A fair punishment. The strategist had to consider the family’s reputation. No one had incited the boy—he’d acted out on his own.

  Still, ājùn, once seen as weak and kind, didn’t accept the apology. He made one righteous demand: never bully others again. If it happened again—he’d strike again.

  Seeing this, the strategist couldn’t help but admire the boy.

  As for the troublemaker, after a period of rat-like school life, he mysteriously transferred. Perhaps he couldn’t face staying, hoping to start fresh elsewhere.

  That afternoon, the strategist took the still-recovering ājùn home to rest. This time, ājùn’s view of him changed—not just admiration, but genuine affection.

  “Strategist Grandpa…”

  “You rascal!”

  “—You’re amazing!”

  “Of course. What did you expect?”

  “—Honestly, better than your face!”

  “Huh?!”

  “—Grandpa, was what I did… wrong?”

  After walking a while, the boy grew uneasy. The strategist, who’d helped raise him, understood immediately. He bent down, smiled gently.

  “No, that was self-defense.”

  “But I hit someone. We Guardians train to protect, not to fight. What if I hurt him badly?”

  Looking at the sensitive, innocent child, the strategist replied playfully, “That brat needed a lesson. I’ve wanted to smack him for ages. You did right—some people won’t learn unless they’re hit. Besides, you held back, didn’t you?”

  “Grandpa… how did you know?”

  “Otherwise, he wouldn’t be standing. You’re learning fast—even grasping Tai Chi. That palm strike—soft at first, firm at the end. If you hadn’t pulled back, he wouldn’t even recognize his mom.”

  “Mm… You’re amazing, Grandpa…”

  “I know. My face, right?”

  “Ah! You guessed it…”

  “I’m… not mad…”

  Under the strategist’s guidance, ājùn slowly relaxed. His anxiety faded. But the earlier fight had drained him. His steps grew unsteady.

  The strategist, pretending nothing was wrong, kept a close eye. When he noticed the boy faltering, he stepped forward, bent down, and lifted him onto his back.

  The child, now half-asleep, remained stable. The strategist glanced back, smiling.

  “Little Jùn, think more for yourself. Don’t worry about others. We Guardians train not to fight—but to protect. And to protect others… you must first protect yourself. Remember, only the greatest heroes serve the people. For now, let’s just take care of ourselves. As for fighting—what’s the big deal? I used to be the king of the kids… well, maybe…”

  —Snore… Zzz…

  That night, Qīng (Qīng，青), Yì (Yì，毅), the strategist, and the deputy general gathered to discuss the incident. They wanted to help ājùn process it. But to their surprise, the boy had already worked through it—he even comforted them.

  That’s just how he was. Qīng saw it all, felt it deeply. She didn’t nag—just gave one serious reminder:

  “If this ever happens again—no matter what, no matter who, no matter how arrogant—remember: never endure it!”

  After all, “small patience ruins big plans” applies to gentlemen. Ordinary people might consider it. But when facing villains—there’s no need to endure.

  Yì chimed in, saying real men don’t back down. Soft targets always get picked on. If you can fight, fight. If not, yell. If that fails—run.

  —Now that’s a strategy! Who can top that?

  Yì basked in praise from the others—until Qīng smacked him down. He fled. Clearly, Yì was well-practiced in this strategy.

  After the desk mate drama ended, ājùn enjoyed a peaceful stretch. His classmates—at least in his class—began to see him differently. Kids are simple. They’re shaped by their environment. But childhood innocence doesn’t mean lack of judgment. As they grow, they learn to think for themselves.

  Those caught in the incident had once avoided or disliked ājùn. But after witnessing his actions, something resonated. Change was inevitable.

  Still, for someone like ājùn, good things often come with bad. As the Elder said: fortune and misfortune are intertwined.

  As the boy grew, the dark power within him also strengthened—trying to break free.

  Despite the Elder’s protection and everyone’s help, his condition remained unstable. Hoping for a “normal” life was just a fantasy—a lie he told himself.

  This hidden power—growing quietly—may one day reshape everything.

  Who or what delivered the ultimate, instantaneous strike that finally defeated the powerful Giant Monster, the "Diamond Silverback," in the attic?