On the surface, I'm an eight-year-old, scrawny kid whose parents are both dead, the most pitiful punching bag in the whole courtyard.
In reality, I'm a special forces king with a Nightmare System, the grim reaper come to claim these beasts.
The System has just one rule: as long as the beasts are unhappy, my little sister and I get braised pork!
Facing the God of War, Silly Zhu:
The beasts think: That kid's done for. He'll be lucky to get out without a beating.
Me: I slide-tackle him straight into the cesspit for a little butterfly stroke, then send him to the security office to cool off.
Silly Zhu: “Section Chief Zhang, it was him! He tripped me!” (Nobody believes him.)
Facing the wicked old hag Jia Zhangshi:
The beasts think: There's no way we'll keep the meat, and we'll get an earful on top of that.
Me: I channel my dead father, consecrate a broom, and chase her around the courtyard to “drive out the demon.”
Jia Zhangshi: “I'm your grandma! I'm not a ghost!” (I refuse to listen.)
Facing the First Uncle, Yi Zhonghai:
The beasts think: The kid will be talked into a daze by all those grand principles and have no choice but to accept his fate.
Me: I turn the tables with moral blackmail. “You earn 99 yuan a month. Give me 50 first, or you're a hypocrite!”
Yi Zhonghai (his face turning beet red): “Y-You're just being unreasonable!”
Me (pocketing the money and protecting my sister): “Yeah, I'm a brat. Got a problem? Keep it to yourself.”
