"Zhou's Weakest Disciple, Ming Xiu! What the hell is this?"
"Zhou? Which Zhou? Isn't his surname Ming?"
"Holy sh*t, could it be Zhou Wen?"
"That's a little ridiculous. Zhou Wen might not even be able to reach such a level."
"Is this a prank? From the looks of it, Swordsman Tomorrow has a good relationship with Zhou Wen."
"This joke is too much… Zhou's disciple… and the weakest at that…"
When they saw Ming Xiu's name on the rankings, there was an uproar. It was totally unacceptable. The first human to pluck the golden apple was actually a young man's disciple. It was fine if he was a disciple, but to claim that he was the weakest—no matter how one looked at it, he appeared to be deliberately posturing.
"Coach, I'm ranked ninth. Is that alright?" Ming Xiu walked out with a grin.