Chapter 33: Kill Your Way to a Citywide Lockdown!

“Huh... huh...”

Hu Tian, slumped on the stretcher, gasped like a fish gasping for air on dry land.

With his last ounce of strength, he strained to open his eyes, desperate to see that retreating figure.

The figure that had once clapped him on the shoulder and said, “I treat you like a younger brother.”

But all he saw was Zhang Xu’s wrapped-up couch, carried by servants, growing ever farther, ever blurrier, until it vanished completely at the edge of the crowd.

Only now did he truly understand how foolish it had been to believe Zhang Xu and abandon the Martial Academy.

“Sister... I was wrong...”

As his sister Hu Li’s words flashed through his mind, Hu Tian’s face twisted in endless regret.

But it was all too late.

“Hu Tian is truly finished! His spine is broken—forget martial cultivation, he might not even walk again.”

“What a waste of such talent—he broke through Ming Jing in half a month! Who wouldn’t be jealous? And now? He brought it on himself.”

“Serves him right! Believing someone like Zhang Xu, and abandoning his sect—didn’t he think of the consequences?”

“Now he’s useless. Why would Zhang Xu care about him anymore?”

Nearby, disciples of the Qingshi Martial Academy gathered, watching the scene, their whispers hushed.

Among them, Lin Xiaohé’s expression was the most complex.

She had witnessed every moment of Hu Tian’s brief, dazzling rise.

From his awkward first days at the academy, to his awe-struck entry into Zhang Xu’s circle, to his triumphant mastery of fist techniques, to his proud triumph at breaking through Ming Jing, to now—slumped on the stretcher like a dead dog.

She had seen him build his tower, seen him host his guests, seen his tower collapse.

Nothing more fitting.

Recalling how Hu Tian had once humiliated her with his rejection, Lin Xiaohé’s complex emotions finally hardened into a flicker of satisfaction; she sneered inwardly:

“Serves him right!”

She turned her gaze away, refusing to look another moment at the figure she had once schemed to cling to—and now found worthless.

Her eyes passed over the crowd, settling on the silent, mountain-like figure not far off; she murmured softly: “Of course, Shi Lei is the one truly suited for me.”

Shi Lei’s expression remained calm, but as he gazed at Hu Tian’s ruined form, he sighed inwardly.

‘Martial cultivation isn’t about racing ahead—it’s about relentless continuity!’

He now understood that saying more deeply than ever.

On the large armchair, Yan Sheng’s face had darkened to the point of dripping water.

He watched helplessly as Zhang Xu’s couch vanished without a backward glance, and as more and more suspicious glances turned toward him.

In the end, he could only grit his teeth and pay for a Great Restoration Elixir, ordering it forced down the dying Hu Tian’s throat.

Three thousand taels of silver—just to buy a piece of cloth to cover his shame.

Two physicians swiftly administered the elixir, examined his injuries, then sighed in relief and rose to address Yan Sheng: “Master Yan, your disciple’s life is temporarily saved. But he must rest thoroughly—ideally, return him to the academy, lie still for a hundred days, and supplement with herbal decoctions...”

“Return him to the academy?”

Yan Sheng cut in coldly, his voice devoid of any warmth.

“This boy has nothing to do with our Jiquan Martial Academy from now on.”

He didn’t even glance at the barely breathing figure on the stretcher; he turned and walked away, leaving behind a voice colder than ice:

“Send him anywhere—just not back to our academy.”

The two physicians exchanged glances, then sighed helplessly.

They looked down at the pale, unconscious boy on the stretcher.

Once a celebrated prodigy, now a burden everyone avoided.

The cruelty of martial competition was truly profound.

“Useless fools! Can’t even walk straight!” Zhang Xu jolted awake from the jolt of his couch, fury rising—he didn’t even open his eyes, bellowing: “I was just falling asleep! Why stop?!”

“Young Master, an old man is blocking our way ahead...”

A servant’s timid voice came from below.

“An old man?” Zhang Xu frowned, still not opening his eyes. “Damn it! Who dares block my path? Zhang Wang! Get rid of that old bastard!”

“Yes, Young Master!”

Zhang Wang, walking behind the couch, stepped forward immediately.

He looked up—the blocker was a thin, unremarkable old man, frail and sagging, as if gravely ill.

“Old man, if you’re sick, go home and lie down! Blocking the road—you looking for death?”

Zhang Wang sneered, raised his leg, and kicked hard at the old man’s knee.

His kick was brutal, infused with force—if it landed, the man wouldn’t stand for months.

The next instant.

The frail old man suddenly surged forward like a starving tiger, appearing before Zhang Wang in an instant, delivering a light, floating punch to his chest.

“You—”

Zhang Wang’s sneer froze instantly.

The punch seemed weak, but as it struck, it was like a needle of exquisite yin force—piercing skin, bone, organs in an instant, shredding his internal organs into pulp.

The residual force didn’t fade—it erupted violently from his back—

Boom!

A dull thud as Zhang Wang’s back exploded into a bloody, gaping hole!

Crimson blood shot out like a fountain, splattering in droplets onto Zhang Xu’s face atop the couch behind.

“Hm?”

The warm, sticky blood on his face made Zhang Xu aware—he instinctively opened his eyes.

Before him were a pair of ancient, merciless eyes.

“You’re...”

Zhang Xu’s pupils shrank sharply.

The memory of that night’s pavilion, the chest punch that nearly killed him, the white-haired elder’s figure—all merged at once with the eyes of this stranger.

No time for him to speak.

Jiang Ye’s fist struck his skull.

Boom!

Another soft sound.

Zhang Xu’s head didn’t explode like a watermelon—it collapsed like a candle struck by a sledgehammer, dissolving instantly into fine blood mist and bone fragments.

Zhang Xu would never feel his own head again.

In an instant, two men dead, Jiang Ye’s mind remained as calm as ever.

He didn’t spare the corpses a second glance; he turned and left.

After a moment of silence,

“Murder! Someone’s been murdered!!!”

Zhang’s servants finally shattered into screams.

About half an hour later,

Jiang Ye’s figure slipped soundlessly back into the academy.

He changed clothes, washed the last faint traces of blood from his hands with pre-prepared water, and became once more the withered old gatekeeper.

To his surprise, within just a few sticks of incense, heavy footsteps echoed from the end of the long street.

The academy disciples returned in small groups—far earlier than usual after the annual martial gathering.

“Was today’s martial gathering over so soon?”

Jiang Ye’s eyes flickered with surprise.

But he quickly guessed the reason from the disciples’ murmurs.

“Did you hear? The Zhang family’s in big trouble!”

“How could you not? Zhang Xu was murdered on the street! His head was gone!”

“Not just Zhang Xu—his lackey Zhang Wang too. His back had a huge hole, all his organs turned to mush...”

“So gruesome... I heard from witnesses—blood splattered everywhere, Zhang Xu’s body couldn’t even be fully recovered...”

“The County Magistrate has ordered a citywide lockdown! Searching every house for the killer! They say Zhang He nearly fainted on the spot—he was carried home!”

“That old fox Zhang He finally got his comeuppance? Serves him right! For raising such a monster of a son.”

The disciples’ murmurs were filled with gloating.

“Citywide lockdown? Hunting the killer?!”

Jiang Ye’s aged eyes flickered with a sneer.

Who could imagine the killer was a withered old gatekeeper?

Soon after, Liu Qingshi returned; behind him, disciples carried a stretcher—on it lay the limp, collapsed Hu Tian.

Seeing this, Jiang Ye’s eyes showed slight confusion, but he asked nothing.

Soon, he learned the full story from the disciples’ chatter.

After the two physicians used the Great Restoration Elixir to save Hu Tian’s life, they didn’t know where to send him for recovery, so they finally came to Liu Qingshi, asking if he knew Hu Tian’s home.

Liu Qingshi, true to his character, had already sent word to Hu Tian’s sister to come and take him.

Not long after, Hu Tian’s sister, Hu Li, arrived.

This should be the third time Jiang Ye had seen her.

In the past, Hu Li, though dressed plainly, had bright and resolute eyes.

But now, her face was deathly pale, devoid of any color, as if her bones had been pulled out; she staggered forward, nearly falling several times.

Her gaze locked onto the stretcher, on the motionless figure upon it; her lips trembled violently, yet no sound emerged.

Finally, she lunged forward to the stretcher.

“Xiao Tian... my Xiao Tian!!!”

That cry tore through the heart, as if vomiting up her very organs.

The surrounding disciples gradually fell silent, watching this scene with complex expressions.

Jiang Ye let out a faint sigh, as if seeing again the first time Hu Li had brought Hu Tian to his door seeking martial arts.

One could only say: on the path of martial cultivation, one misstep leads to endless missteps.