Chapter 910: Token

However, before she could think further, Ye Qingran had already swung her thorn whip, lunging at her. Yang Jiaomi dodged aside, but the whip in Ye Qingran's hand seemed alive, swiftly changing direction and continuing its pursuit.

Yang Jiaomi gritted her teeth in hatred, dodged again, and unexpectedly changed her route once more.

She had never been this embarrassed in her entire life!

This is a day of humiliation for Yang Jiaomi, one she will remember!

Yang Jiaomi thought she could dodge the thorn whip, but she never expected it to anticipate her trajectory, appearing on her new path and lashing her delicate body with the first strike!

Smack~

The crisp sound made everyone present shudder.

The crowd stared, dumbfounded.

Yang Jiaomi was struck by her own thorn whip!

This feeling is utterly crazy!

After all, it was always Yang Jiaomi who used her thorn whip to leave others bloody and bruised.

Yang Jiaomi never imagined she would one day be struck by her own thorn whip, especially at the gate of Wànlíng Xuégōng—she was furious beyond words.

"You lowlife, I won't let you off!" she snarled, trying to shout those words, but all that came out was a choked "ahhh."

"Didn't expect this, did you? One day you'll be struck by your own favorite whip."

Ye Qingran raised her eyebrows teasingly.

She spoke, then lashed out again without mercy, leaving a deep bloody gash on Yang Jiaomi's tender arm.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you—I go soft, not hard. Yelling at me won't help, but if you yield, I might let you go."

"Yield?"

Yang Jiaomi's eyes flashed with ruthlessness—how could she possibly yield?

What noble status she holds—how could she possibly yield to a lowlife?

"Huh? Why aren't you speaking?"

Yang Jiaomi seethed with hatred, finally realizing that Ye Qingran's earlier touch to her throat had been meant to silence her.

Smack smack smack~

Ye Qingran showed no mercy, whipping Yang Jiaomi with force; the pain made her writhe on the ground, screaming in agony.

"Miss, that's enough—be merciful!" someone stepped forward to intervene.

"Exactly, you're too vicious—this is going too far!"

"Enough already—doesn't your conscience hurt?"

Ye Qingran smiled, "If today the one being whipped were me, would you stand up for me?"

Those people were left speechless by the question.

It's obvious they wouldn't. They stepped forward only because Yang Jiaomi is a disciple of the White Tiger Academy, merely trying to make their presence known.

As for Ye Qingran, in their eyes she amounted to nothing.

Ye Qingran lashed Yang Jiaomi three more times; she lay on the ground, trembling like a sow.

"Hey, Yang Jiaomi, if you can't take it, just admit defeat! Speak up loudly and I'll stop—if you stay silent, how can I know whether you can still endure?"

Yang Jiaomi spat out a mouthful of blood.

She was clearly enraged.

How could there be such a despicable woman in this world?

It was she who used underhanded tactics to render her speechless, yet she had the nerve to ask, in front of everyone, why she wouldn't admit defeat.

Lowlife! Lowlife! Lowlife!

Yang Jiaomi swore she would never let Ye Qingran and her two children off!

Seeing the venom in Yang Jiaomi's eyes, Ye Qingran smiled, raised her whip, and struck three more times!

That Yang Jiaomi is vicious indeed—she tried to ruin Ye Qingran's reputation and make life worse than death, even harboring murderous intent toward her sons; such a woman deserves to die!

Ye Qingran's expression remained indifferent, each lash feeling as if it struck everyone's hearts, utterly terrifying.

Too brutal!

They had never seen anyone so brutal!

This is Wànlíng Xuégōng, after all!

Yang Jiaomi is also a disciple of the White Tiger Academy—doesn't she fear retaliation?

However, Ye Qingran controlled her force well—Yang Jiaomi felt excruciating pain but wasn't killed. After all, this is Wànlíng Xuégōng; openly killing a disciple would cause trouble.

"Sons, do you feel vindicated?"

Xiao Hu and Xiao Chen nodded in agreement.

"Since my sons aren't going to quarrel with you, I'll let you go."

Ye Qingran tossed the broken half of her thorn whip at Yang Jiaomi, clapped her hands, and swaggered toward Wànlíng Xuégōng.

"Hold on! This is Wànlíng Xuégōng!"

The academy gatekeeper barred Ye Qingran and her two children from entering.

They looked at Ye Qingran with displeasure.

"I know."

"You know you're still trespassing? You struck an academy disciple and still want to barge in? Do you really think Wànlíng Xuégōng has no one?" the gatekeeper said in a very unfriendly tone.

"I have a token." Ye Qingran reached for it, but the gatekeeper cut her off.

"A token?"

"Hahaha, she claims she has a token!" the gatekeeper sneered, "Go on, tell us what kind of token you have—a disciple's token or an instructor's token?"

Those nearby heard this and also broke out in mocking smiles.

You should know that in the Wànlíng Xuégōng, only instructors and formal disciples possess tokens; the menial workers do not have tokens.

In other words, the token is a symbol of identity.

Someone nearby scoffed, "Miss, you don't even bother to look at yourself—how could you possibly have the academy's token?"

"You think even cats and dogs have tokens? How ridiculous!"

"You think a little ability lets you do as you please? What are you? Even if you defeated Yang Jiaomi, so what? In the Wànlíng Xuégōng, talented powerhouses are a dime a dozen!"

Mocking voices rang incessantly; amidst the crowd's laughter, Ye Qingran pulled out the token she had just received not long ago.