Win stumbled onto the ground, cursing. He'd been a prodigy, once upon a time, and they'd thought the future of the sect would stand on his shoulders, but something mysterious (whose details were as yet unimportant) had happened to him and had crippled his cultivation. Now he was renowned as the trash of the local region, a reputation he'd acquired because cultivators apparently had nothing better to do than spread slanderous gossip.

In the future, of course, he'd become an unparalleled genius after unlocking his martial body, discovering a rare herb, or being possessed by the spirit of a powerful cultivator (possibly all three simultaneously), but while this could be reasonably inferred there were as of yet no signs of its coming, and thus people felt fine bullying him, secure in the knowledge that they were too deep into Side Characterhood to appear as more than distant background characters during his eventual meteoric rise.

Except for Pingping.

Win had met Pingping one fine day while walking his dog. Their meeting had been accidental; a good-hearted if rather eclectic demon had decided to introduce their dogs to each other, and after giving Pingping headpats and snackos had left the four awkwardly facing each other.

They'd hit it off immediately. Pingping admired Win for his firm character and good cheer in the face of adversity, and cared nothing for his cultivation level; Win appreciated her steadiness and discernment. (Their dogs’ mutual admiration was of a less rationally intelligible, but doubtlessly equally real, sort.)

One day, while they were enjoying a meal at her aunt's hotdog cart, and after having spent a few months courting each other, Win finally popped the question to her.

The delighted Pingping said yes.

The world, alas, was not so easygoing.

Win and Pingping may have loved each other, but uncomfortable facts remained uncomfortable facts: Pingping was the brilliant young prodigy of the Glorious Turtle Soup Sect, and he, he was an unparalleled waste.

And this is why poor Win found himself on the floor of the local pub, bleeding, again. His fiancée, talented local genius (and love of his life) Pingping, watched in horror as bit part bully Xiao Bian rubbed his face into the dirt, cackling.

"What's the matter, trash? Aren't you going to stand up and fight? Oh, wait - you can't."

And he stepped on Win’s face again while chuckling at his own bad joke. Pingping tried to stop him, but two of his goons held her fast, chuckling stupidly as she struggled.

“Say, Pingping, why are you with this trash? You should dump him, and come with me instead,” Xiao cackled, stepping on Win some more.

“Please stop, you’re hurting him!” Pingping quivered. Sure, she was stronger than Win, but she wasn't strong enough to defeat Xiao Bian. Though she was a prodigy, they were not yet at the part of the plot where she was able to beat people to death with her bare hands as she stood alongside her now main lead material husband.

No, they were at the part of the plot where Xiao Bian and his goons could wipe the floor with the pair of them; but they wouldn’t do so with Pingping, because she was pretty.

Xiao gave one last kick to Win, who flew through the air and slammed into the wall, sliding to the ground with a groan. Then Xian turned to the distraught Pingping, his grin huge and revolting. “Come with me - I’ll show you a good time.”

And he grabbed her by the arm roughly. She struggled as he began dragging her towards the door, but her struggles were in vain, until-

“You will do no such thing.”

The voice… did not quite resound through the hall. Or echo. Or even sound all that loud. In fact, it was rather quiet and… squeaky.

The mouse strolled calmly into the middle of the floor, arms tucked into his sleeves. He stared at Xiao Bian in disgust, little nose twitching.

“And why can’t I?” Xiao Bian asked, voice deceptively quiet. He was not the sort to ask someone if they dared, not when they were courting death.

The mouse stopped in the middle of the floor, expression unperturbed. An involuntary ‘awww’ escaped from Pingping as she noticed he was wearing a teensy weensy scholar’s robe.

“You cannot and will not, sir, because it is illegal to interfere with an engagement on the basis of one of the party’s low cultivation levels, and has been for centuries now. The Medusa Laws (named after the author of the hit autobiography, After Being Cursed by the gods then Slaughtered By a Jackarse Hero Over a Bet, I’m Finding Love in Another World!) very clearly outlaw harassment, perjury, or assault intended to dissolve loving relationships. In this it was addressing a deleterious trend that is the cause of far too many blood feuds and petty revenge plots… a source of great joy to those who love hack novels, perhaps, but not to those who live them.”

Xiao Bian growled at the notion that he appreciated hack novels - he only read xianxia, and other works of a similarly profound literary quality. “I’m not forcing the girl to do anything. It is my physical recommendation that she dissolve her current relationship, and date myself, because I am superior in every conceivable respect to the trash she is currently engaged to-”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“Every conceivable respect, except character,” observed the mouse wryly. Xiao growled again, but continued - it was dangerous to leave the law in the hands of a scholar, he knew, and now was his only chance to seize it for himself.

“But I never forced her to do anything, I think you’ll find. And after all, the law may ban interfering in a loving engagement on the basis of one of the party’s low cultivation levels, but it doesn’t ban the other party dissolving the engagement of their own accord. Know your own law, trash.” Xiao smirked, impressed with his own piece of sophistry, and squeezed harder on Pingping’s arm. Pingping gave a small cry as she tried to break free.

The mouse sighed. "The duty of him who would tread the Dao of Confucius is never done."

He looked Xiao dead in the eyes, an impressive feat given that Xiao Bian was some six and a half feet tall and the mouse was but four inches. “Please, save us from wheedling over semantics. You know as well as I that ‘physical recommendation’ is but another name for ‘force’ - and we can all see the delight on yon fair lady’s face.”

Xiao’s ugly face wrinkled in anger as he tried to digest the mouse’s argument, but he got as far as the word ‘semantics’ before he could no longer understand the meaning of the words.

This, in turn, made him yet more furious. He was a simple man, Xiao Bian, and simple-minded too. (Defects, alas, that reading such an intellectually scintillating genre as xianxia had failed to rectify.) He glared with fury at the mouse. “Tell me your name, trash, that I may know who I am about to kill.”

The mouse bowed. “This humble one is called Squeaky the Rat. At your service.”

Xiao spit on the noble-hearted mouse. “Humble one, eh? Well, this mighty one will teach you a lesson or two, before he convinces ‘yon fair lady’ to join him for some… fun.”

And he sneered. Pingping, who was still being held by his goons, quivered.

If Xiao thought the mouse was going to cower like a… well, a mouse… he was sorely mistaken. No sooner had Xiao finished his badly composed challenge than a wave of killing intent radiated off the mouse, making Xiao and his goons shiver. Squeaky smiled, barring his tiny teeth.

He rolled up his sleeves, flexing his sleek, well-toned muscles. "Oh, you want to go?"

Xiao gulped, and then realised he was being ridiculous. He was afraid of a mouse. A Confucian mouse - perhaps the least threatening combo conceivable.

He bared his own teeth at the mouse. And then, faster than lightning, he attacked.

A bolt of fire shot towards the mouse. The mouse raised one paw in the air, a Confucian technique - probably The Dao is the Law, if Xiao had to guess - blocking the blow.

The mouse’s whiskers twitched and he raised his other paw straight towards Heaven.

“The Arrows of the Master,” he intoned, hundreds of bolts of pure qi appearing above his head. They whizzed at Xiao, who tried in vain to leap out of the way.

The barrage of teeny weeny toothpick-sized arrows slammed into his thigh, nearly sending him to his knees. He swore violently as he staggered then, incensed beyond belief, attempted to stomp on Squeaky. The mouse elegantly dodged and, circling back about Xiao, got his big toe in a grapple.

Xiao struggled in vain to pull free. Cords of muscle could be seen straining under the mouse’s skin as the two wrestled it out.

Finally Squeaky lifted up Xiao over his head with a great “BANZAI,” supplexing the cultivator. All the air left Xiao’s lungs as he slammed onto the ground, groaning.

Seeing the mouse preparing for another assault Xiao hurriedly activated his Body Strengthening Technique.

“Haaa,” squeaked the mouse in challenge as he delivered a brutal body slam to the cultivator.

BOINK

Squeaky bounced off Xiao, falling onto the floor. He recovered quickly, donkey rolling to his feet as Xiao backed up desperately.

“Maybe we can negotiate something-” he started, only to be cut off as the mouse headbutted his forehead. The mouse nearly bounced off again, but endured it, breaking the Body Strengthening Technique through sheer Manifestation of Sincerity.

Xiao grabbed the mouse with his right hand, the hand bursting into flame. If he couldn’t defeat Squeaky in hand to hand combat then he’d charbroil the little blighter.

The mouse gazed at him from the midst of the flames, eyes gleaming defiance. He breathed in, inhaling the fire, then breathed it out in a cloud of heat.

“Four Sprouts Blossom,” the mouse squeaked, the high level Confucian technique shattering what remained of Xiao’s Body Strengthening Technique outright.

As Xiao coughed, the mouse calmly backflipped through the air, delivering a kick to the cultivator’s jaw. Xiao slammed into the wall, failing to break it - for it had been reinforced by the Noodle Shop Wall Strengthening Technique - and lay still.

The mouse known as Squeaky the Rat dusted himself off, straightening his dishevelled robes, and turned to face the two goons.

Terrified at the sight of the awe-inspiring small rodent they tried to run, but too late - with a single qi-infused command, the mouse stopped them in their tracks. Then he turned to the newly freed couple, giving them an elaborate bow.

“Lord and lady, are you alright?”

Pingping, in the middle of helping Win off the floor, blushed. “Yes. Thank you kindly, sir mouse.”

Squeaky the Rat took the compliment in good stead, delivering another bow.

“It is my duty as a scholar to protect young love wherever it may be found,” he said, somewhat ironically, for both Win and Pingping were far older than him.

They spoke to each other some more as Squeaky tied up the three thugs, talking about how the two met each other and their dreams for a family. Squeaky was an attentive and sympathetic listener, and the couple enjoyed speaking to him. His murine face would blossom expressively as he listened to what they were saying, his hands gesticulating wildly as he made his reply. At last the evening approached, and they gave their goodbyes before departing.

Squeaky stayed behind, sitting triumphantly atop the pile of groaning cultivators. He was awaiting his master - the great feline adventurer, Akhjarr. (A figure of unparalleled handsomeness, firm character, and brilliant competence. ~ The Editor.)

(To say nothing of his modesty, humility, and restraint. ~ The Author.)

The winter sun was dipping below the horizon as the restaurant door swung open, the cat sauntering slowly in. He paused as he saw a very proud Squeaky the Rat sitting on top of multiple restrained cultivators, looking him up and down.

At last he spoke, motioning to Squeaky’s still dishevelled robes. “You call that propriety?”