In the grand estate of the Hao family, Tin Hao seethed with rage. How could it be that he, a noble and the son of Governor Wei Hao, had been defeated by a mere villager's son like Mou Lin? The humiliation burned deep within him, fueling his anger and resentment.
His father, Wei Hao, a stern and imposing figure, looked upon his son with disappointment. "Tin Hao, you bring shame upon our family with your defeat," he admonished, his voice cold and unforgiving. "How could you let yourself be bested by someone of such low birth?"
With a swift motion, Wei Hao raised his hand and delivered a stinging slap to Tin Hao's cheek, the sound echoing through the room. "You will not dishonor our family name any further," he declared, his words laced with contempt.
Tin Hao recoiled from the blow, his cheek burning with pain and humiliation. He knew he had failed not just himself, but his family as well. The sting of his father's slap served as a harsh reminder of his defeat, a bitter pill to swallow.
As Tin Hao nursed his wounded pride, a fire ignited within him. He vowed to redeem himself, to prove to his father and to himself that he was worthy of the Hao name. With renewed determination, he set his sights on Mou Lin, determined to vanquish his rival and restore his honor.