Chapter 31: Jiang Ye Acts!

The refugees from Lushan County have arrived?!

The disciples who had just been eagerly discussing Hu Tian’s whereabouts suddenly seemed as if their throats had been clamped shut at once.

The clamor died instantly.

They exchanged glances; the fleeting curiosity and gossip about others’ futures vanished, replaced by a far heavier emotion.

Fear.

“Lushan County… wasn’t it sealed off?”

“Refugees made it here? Then… does that mean…”

“This morning I heard rice and flour prices had risen again—now that refugees are here, they’ll shoot straight to the sky!”

“How many are there at the city gate? A hundred? A thousand? Will the authorities even manage them?!”

Panic spread through the martial arts academy like an invisible plague.

All earlier talk about Hu Tian, about Zhang Xu, about Jipin Martial Arts Hall, now seemed distant and trivial.

Fortunately, this rapidly fermenting panic did not last long.

By the end of the Wushen hour, fresh news arrived from the city gate, barely quelling the rising turmoil.

According to the disciples who had rushed ahead to scout the gate, the refugees from Lushan County were indeed numerous—roughly a hundred souls, dragging families and belongings, utterly disheveled.

But the crucial detail was this—they had escaped before Lushan County was fully sealed.

That meant Lushan County had not yet fallen.

The chaos had not yet spread here.

Meanwhile, another detail caught the attention of those who paid close attention.

Those who had escaped before Lushan County’s lockdown were almost all martial artists.

Some were disciples from Lushan County’s local martial arts halls; others were bodyguards hired by wealthy households.

Relying on their agility and sharp senses, they had fought their way out at the final moment, just before the gates were locked, bringing their families with them.

By the academy’s main gate, Jiang Ye sat motionless on his glossy little stool, eyes half-lidded, seemingly indifferent to the surrounding clamor and panic.

“Martial artists who escaped before the lockdown…”

Jiang Ye shook his head slightly, a flicker of unusual light passing through his eyes.

It was foreseeable that once these people entered the city, Anxi County would grow noticeably more tense and restless.

As Jiang Ye pondered, a middle-aged man in a light green training suit, lean and composed, walked slowly toward the gate.

Jiang Ye rose slowly and bowed slightly to the newcomer: “Master Zhou, you’ve come.”

This man was Zhou Yue, head of Lingyue Martial Arts Academy, who maintained a decent relationship with Liu Qingshi and often visited.

Thus, Jiang Ye was no stranger to him.

“Old Jiang, your complexion is as good as ever!”

Zhou Yue greeted Jiang Ye politely, then stepped inside the academy.

Jiang Ye stood outside the gatehouse, watching Zhou Yue’s figure vanish behind the moon gate deep within the academy; his aged eyes narrowed slightly, a thoughtful glint flickering in their depths.

“Zhou Yue coming here now—there must be something important he wants to say.”

Inside the academy’s study, tea steam curled gently.

Liu Qingshi poured hot tea for Zhou Yue; the two sat facing each other.

The last rays of sunset streamed through the window lattice, casting a warm golden glow on the desk, yet unable to dispel the subtle heaviness hanging in the air.

“So today you’re not teaching fistwork? You’ve got time to come over?”

Liu Qingshi lifted his teacup, a faint smile on his face, his tone as steady as ever.

Zhou Yue first lowered his head to sip tea, savoring it on his tongue for a moment, then raised his eyes and gazed at his old friend with a half-smile: “I heard your academy has a traitor—I came to offer you comfort.”

Liu Qingshi shook his head and chuckled, the smile holding a touch of genuine resignation: “Good news never travels far, but bad news spreads like wildfire—this rumor moved fast.”

“Jipin Martial Arts Hall’s tactics have grown increasingly despicable over the years—every promising talent they see, they try to steal, no matter how crude their methods.”

Zhou Yue sighed lightly, then shifted tone, his gaze sharpening with scrutiny: “Still, your disciple’s problem is serious too—swayed by petty gains, easily deceived. His character and discipline still lack depth.”

Liu Qingshi said nothing.

He stared at the tea leaves drifting in his cup, his expression solemn, lost in thought.

Seeing this, Zhou Yue dropped the subject.

He set down his teacup, cleared his throat, and his demeanor grew serious:

“Forget all that. Let me tell you the real reason I’m here.”

He looked up at Liu Qingshi and spoke:

“You’ve heard about the martial artists who fled from Lushan County, right?”

Liu Qingshi gave a slight nod.

“These refugees aren’t ordinary,” Zhou Yue lowered his voice, tone heavy: “Three of their martial arts hall heads are Hua Jing martial artists; their disciples include several An Jing experts, not to mention the countless Ming Jing ones.”

He paused, his voice even heavier: “Together, they form a force not to be underestimated.”

“I’ve heard the County Magistrate’s plan—to accept them, let them settle in Anxi County, and strengthen our local martial strength.”

Liu Qingshi’s brow twitched slightly; he sensed what was coming next.

Sure enough, Zhou Yue continued: “The Martial Gathering will proceed as scheduled. And…”

He deliberately paused, “The Lushan County martial artists will join as well.”

“What?!”

Even Liu Qingshi, usually as unshakable as a mountain and never revealing emotion, could not hide the shock in his eyes.

“With the current chaos, are we still holding the Martial Gathering?”

In Anxi County, the Martial Gathering was an annual grand event, held for over a decade.

On this day, the three major martial arts halls and several academies gathered at the northern training ground to send their disciples to compete.

It was not only a gathering of martial artists but also the entire county’s focal point.

Disciples who performed well would bring prestige to their halls, attract more students, and could be noticed by wealthy families like the Su or Zhang clans, securing sponsorship and a better future.

Liu Qingshi had assumed the news of Lushan County’s turmoil would lead to this year’s gathering being canceled.

He never expected it would not only proceed—but include the “river-crossing dragons” fleeing from Lushan County.

He could already foresee how fiercely those outsiders, desperate to establish themselves in a foreign land, would fight on the stage.

He could almost foresee the fierce determination and relentless grit the foreign cultivators, eager to establish themselves in a foreign land, would unleash on the stage.

Liu Qingshi frowned, lifted his teacup, and drank—the tea was cold, bitter on his tongue.

His academy’s disciples already lagged slightly behind those from martial arts halls.

Add to that the Lushan County “river-crossing dragons”…

This year’s competition would be far fiercer than ever before.

Zhou Yue watched his old friend’s furrowed brow and sighed.

“I came to warn you. This year, our academies will likely be crushed by the martial arts halls and these outsiders.”

He rose and walked to the window, his voice tinged with complexity: “The County Magistrate has his reasons—in chaotic times, more martial strength means more security. But as instructors, seeing our own disciples trampled underfoot… it’s hard to swallow.”

The study fell into brief silence.

The news that the Martial Gathering would proceed in three days spread like a stone dropped into a pond, sending ripples through the academy.

The outer courtyard exploded first.

These young disciples, who didn’t even qualify to compete, became the most excited group.

They gathered in small clusters along the edges of the training ground, whispering the latest rumors.

“Did you hear? Did you hear? The Lushan County refugees are joining the gathering!”

“Then there’ll be a show! I want to see how Lushan County’s fistwork differs from ours!”

“I heard one of their disciples is only seventeen and already An Jing—is that true?”

“Who cares if it’s true or not? It doesn’t concern us—we can’t even step on the stage…”

“True enough, heh—heh, just watch the show.”

In contrast to the outer courtyard’s lighthearted excitement, the inner courtyard’s atmosphere was far more complex.

During breaks in training, small groups of inner courtyard disciples clustered beneath corridors or beside wooden dummies, all conversation inevitably circling back to the gathering in three days.

On their young faces, expressions varied: some thrilled and eager, others grim and gloomy.

“The Lushan County martial artists are joining? That means we’ll have dozens more opponents this year?”

“It’s a chance to see just how strong the Lushan County martial artists really are!”

“You’re too optimistic. I heard among those who escaped, there are three hall heads—all Hua Jing—and their disciples number at least twenty or thirty, with countless Ming Jing and several An Jing…”

“So what if they’re An Jing? We’ve got An Jing senior brothers too.”

“I wonder who from our academy will compete this year…”

As the inner courtyard disciples discussed, their eyes unconsciously drifted toward Liu Yiyi, Su Yan, and Zhao Gang—the core disciples.

By the pillar, Liu Yiyi stood with arms crossed, clad in plain white training attire, her sleeves stirred gently by the evening breeze.

She remained as cold and icy as snow, as if the surrounding excitement and anxiety were separated from her by an invisible veil.

Only her clear, piercing eyes gazed toward the sinking dusk, lost in thought.

On the stone steps nearby, Su Yan practiced her fistwork with focused stillness—she had reached the peak of Ming Jing.

Especially after her “absurd battle” with the white-haired elder a few nights ago, she felt a crucial gate within her had been pierced.

On the stone steps nearby, Su Yan focused her mind and practiced her fists; she had reached the peak of Ming Jin.

Especially after that absurd battle with the white-haired elder a few nights ago, she felt a certain key point in her body had been pierced through.

She had a premonition that she would soon break through to Dark Force.

“This is... utterly absurd. Am I really going to rely on that to spur my breakthrough...?”

Su Yan’s mind involuntarily flashed the image of her “fierce battle” with the white-haired elder; her pale ears subtly flushed red.

Her breathing subtly grew rapid.

And carried a faint, alluring heat.

Worse still, Liu Yiyi nearby seemed to sense something and turned her gaze toward her.

Their eyes met.

Was it her imagination, or had Su Yan glimpsed a faint sheen of moisture in Liu Yiyi’s cold, snow-like eyes?

“Could Yiyi also be thinking about that...?”

The thought had just crossed Su Yan’s mind.

Liu Yiyi instantly averted her gaze.

Yet from the slight rise and fall of her chest, it was clear the girl’s heart was anything but calm.

In the center of the training ground, Zhao Gang was sparring with several junior brothers, each movement steady as a mountain.

As the senior disciple of the martial hall, he had always been the pillar the inner disciples relied upon.

Now, his face still wore his usual kind smile, but beneath it lurked a subtle gravity others could hardly perceive.

Time passed swiftly; before they knew it, three days had gone by.

The dawn had not yet broken; only a faint pale blush tinged the eastern horizon, and on the open ground before the gate stood an aged figure.

Jiang Ye slowly assumed his stance, beginning the Five Animal Fist.

His body suddenly sank, his spine arched like a tiger coiling to strike, then his feet lightly tapped the ground, and he leapt nimbly as a spirit deer of the mountain stream, landing without a sound.

Next, he tilted his shoulders and back, delivering a Bear Shoulder strike into empty air—there was a faint, muffled thud...

Several kinds of force shifted and merged with one another.

Jiang Ye stood still, his eyelids lifting slightly as his gaze settled on a green stone beside him, half a man’s height.

The stone had been leftover debris from repairing the gatehouse years ago—thick and solid, weighing at least two hundred catties—and had lain forgotten in the corner ever since.

Jiang Ye would occasionally glance at it while sweeping the ground daily, but never gave it further thought.

Now, as he stared at the stone, his right hand rose suddenly, fingers loose and limp as if drained of strength, and he pressed his palm lightly upon it.

Thud.

A soft sound.

The surface of the green stone remained utterly unchanged.

Not even a single crack appeared.

But if someone had crouched down and examined it closely, they would have been horrified to see fine powder slowly crumbling from the stone’s underside, the part touching the ground.

The powder was extremely fine, like sifted flour, silently piling on the ground, rising in a faint haze of dust beneath the morning light.

Jiang Ye withdrew his hand, glanced down at the stone—its surface intact, its interior utterly shattered—and a flicker of satisfaction passed through his eyes.

Host: Jiang Ye

Lifespan: 85

Strength: Dark Force (Late Stage)

Destiny: Ascending the Divine Stairway [Effect 1: Extraordinary Comprehension]

Mastered Martial Art: Five Animal Fist [Mastery, 808/1000]

Mastered True Meaning: Tiger Moves Like Illness, Monkey Changes a Thousand Ways

Undeniably, the effect of extraordinary comprehension was terrifying; after three days of cultivation, Jiang Ye’s strength had already risen to Late Stage Dark Force.

He was now close to Breaking Through to Soft Force.

It would happen within these few days.

“Old Jiang, aren’t you going to watch the Martial Gathering?”

Liu Qingshi’s voice interrupted Jiang Ye’s thoughts.

He wore a solemn dark robe, followed by his fully armed disciples.

Jiang Ye waved his hand. “I’m old now. All that fighting and killing among the young is too stimulating. I’ll stay by this gate and enjoy some peace.”

He had gone to watch the gatherings before; each time, the most prominent performers were always the Extreme Fist Martial Hall.

Besides, he had other business today.

Seeing Jiang Ye refuse, Liu Qingshi did not press further, gave a slight nod, and led his large procession toward the northern part of the city.

Footsteps, murmurs, rustling robes faded gradually, finally scattered by the morning breeze.

Jiang Ye stood by the gate, watching the young figures vanish at the far end of the long street.

Once the last trace of their presence had vanished, he turned and returned slowly to his room.

When he stepped out again, the man standing there was no longer the frail old gatekeeper.

His stature had risen, his back straight, his face lean and hard, his brow charged with an aura of chilling hostility.

He looked down at this unfamiliar body, flexed his fingers, and confirmed it was correct.

“It’s time to end this.”

He slipped away soundlessly from the martial academy, heading toward the Zhang family mansion.

Through gossip among the academy’s disciples these past days, he had learned that Zhang Xu—the monster—was still alive.

Since the bastard hadn’t died yet, Jiang Ye would make sure he died today—completely.

He knew the Zhang family employed a Soft Force martial artist as a retainer—unpredictable in movement, rarely seen.

But today was the day of the Martial Gathering; nearly all prominent martial artists in Anxi County would gather in the northern quarter.

The Soft Force retainer would surely not miss such a grand event.

Thus, today was the perfect opportunity to assassinate Zhang Xu.

About half an hour later.

Jiang Ye appeared in a quiet alley outside the Zhang family estate.

He did not rashly scale the wall; instead, he hid in the shadows, listening silently.

Then he heard a piece of news that left him speechless.

Zhang Xu, the monster, still weak from his injuries, barely holding on to life, had been carried by servants to the Martial Gathering today to watch the spectacle.

After a moment’s thought, Jiang Ye could only detour toward the northern quarter to see if a suitable opportunity arose.

No matter what, Zhang Xu must die today.