Chapter 35

“The Director wants to see me about something important?”

Hearing that cold, clear female voice outside the door, Jiang Ye’s aged eyes flickered with a hint of surprise.

He asked no further, rose slowly, opened the worn wooden door, and followed Liu Yiyi through the moonlit courtyard toward the study.

Inside the study, candlelight flickered, casting a dim golden glow over every object in the room.

Liu Qingshi sat upright behind the desk, his expression solemn, a heavy burden etched into his brow.

Beside him sat a graceful, mature woman, perfectly composed—Liu Qingshi’s wife, Huang Xiyu.

Her gaze lingered on Jiang Ye for a moment, flickered twice, then lowered, saying nothing.

“Director, Lady.”

After entering, Jiang Ye bowed slightly to the two of them.

“Old Jiang, sit.”

Liu Qingshi raised a hand slightly, gesturing for him to take a seat beside him.

Once Jiang Ye was seated, he took a deep breath and spoke with grave seriousness:

“I called you here so late because there’s something major to discuss.”

He paused, his eyes fixed on Jiang Ye’s face:

“You’ve probably heard the rumors about the fall of Lushan County this morning.”

Jiang Ye gave a slight nod. “I caught snippets from the martial academy students’ chatter.”

“Old Jiang, based on the information I’ve received, the rumors circulating in the city aren’t just true—they’re even worse than that.”

Liu Qingshi’s face grew even heavier as he continued:

“This afternoon, Su Chen, head of the Su family, came to consult with me.”

“He plans to relocate his entire household to Fucheng before the chaos spreads to Anxi County.”

“Fucheng is guarded by the Tianqing Sect—no matter how bad things get, it won’t fall into chaos there.”

“I’ve thought long and hard...”

“And in the end, I’ve decided to go with the Su family to Fucheng!”

As he spoke these words, a faint trace of reluctant sorrow crossed Liu Qingshi’s solemn face.

He had settled in Anxi County, founded the Qingshi Martial Academy, and built his life here for twenty years—leaving now was naturally agonizing.

But for Liu Yiyi’s future and his wife’s safety, he had no choice.

Otherwise, when chaos came, even a Hua Jing martial artist like himself couldn’t remain untouched, let alone protect others.

“To Fucheng?!”

Jiang Ye’s aged eyes widened in shock.

No wonder Liu Qingshi had summoned him in the dead of night—this was truly major.

He also felt a quiet warmth: Liu Qingshi clearly intended to take him along, not abandon him.

“Director, I’ll follow your orders.”

Jiang Ye bowed his head slightly.

“Good. Pack your things tomorrow. We leave at dawn the day after.”

Liu Qingshi said firmly.

“Yes.”

Jiang Ye bowed again, then slowly withdrew from the study.

Back in the gatehouse, he lit the oil lamp.

Sitting on the edge of the hard bed, Jiang Ye’s aged face showed an unusual complexity.

He had lived in Anxi County for decades—suddenly leaving stirred genuine reluctance in his heart.

He looked out the window: moonlight spilled like water over the martial academy’s main gate he’d opened for twenty years, over the mossy stone path he’d swept for twenty years.

“Sigh... maybe I’ll have a chance to return someday.”

Jiang Ye sighed softly.

He shook his head gently, brushing aside the emotion.

What good was reluctance?

Death loomed above him—a pressure like a blade at his throat—leaving no room for pointless sorrow.

The journey to Fucheng will be long, and safety is far from guaranteed.

Know this: dangers outside the city are no less than within—refugees, bandits, mountain lords ruling their own domains—they’re everywhere.

That’s why the townsfolk didn’t flee when chaos came: the outside was deadlier, impossible to escape.

This is a world that devours.

Ordinary people without strength can barely take a single step.

“Before we leave for Fucheng, I must break through to Hua Jing.”

Jiang Ye’s eyes darkened with resolve as he murmured to himself.

One more ounce of strength meant one more ounce of assurance.

He reached into his robe, pulled out a Blood-Replenishing Elixir, and swallowed it slowly.

As the searing medicinal heat spread through his body, he resumed the Five Animal Stance and began practicing the fist form.

Tiger crouches, Deer dashes, Bear leans, Ape climbs, Bird soars.

Each movement flowed with intent, body following mind.

“Five Animal Fist proficiency +5!”

“Five Animal Fist proficiency +5!”

“Five Animal Fist proficiency +5...”

He didn’t know how long he’d trained.

The searing medicinal heat in his body gradually settled.

Yet the once-distinct Ming Jing and An Jing began to undergo a strange transformation.

They no longer clashed and alternated—they flowed like two ancient rivers, finally converging at a single point, slowly merging.

Hard and soft united!

Jiang Ye’s movements grew simultaneously swift and slow, heavy and light.

The five forms—Tiger, Bear, Ape, Deer, Bird—began to fuse into one.

The Tiger’s ferocity carried the Bear’s weight; the Bear’s weight concealed the Ape’s agility; the Ape’s agility held the Deer’s lightness; the Deer’s lightness dissolved into the Bird’s grace.

“Now!”

Jiang Ye suddenly opened his eyes.

Those seventy-year-old eyes blazed with piercing light, like twin swords drawn from their scabbards.

His tendons and bones rang out in a continuous, thunderous crackle—“Crack! Crack! Crack!”—the sound echoing through the cramped gatehouse, making the window frames tremble.

The thunder faded.

Inside, Ming Jing and An Jing had fully merged.

A new force, like a butterfly breaking from its cocoon, began to circulate through his body.

Jiang Ye felt his frame lighter, freer, more agile than ever.

He pushed open the door and stepped outside.

Under the moonlight, the courtyard was silent, the grass and trees still.

He bent down, picked up a withered yellow leaf from the ground.

The leaf was brittle, curled, crumbling at the slightest touch, weightless as air.

He pinched it between two fingers, focused his intent—and the new force flowed into it like a quiet stream, invisible and silent.

Then, he flicked his fingers.

Shhh!

A sharp, piercing whistle tore through the night’s stillness like an arrow splitting the air.

That brittle, crumbling leaf became a dart forged of iron, tracing a path too swift for the eye to follow, slamming into a green stone ten paces away.

Pfft.

A soft sound.

The leaf sank completely into the stone, leaving only a short stub of its petiole protruding, trembling faintly.

Around the petiole, fine cracks spread across the stone’s surface like a spider’s web.

Seeing this, Jiang Ye’s aged eyes glowed with a fierce, satisfying smile.

Flowers, leaves—anything can become a weapon.

This is Hua Jing.