Chapter 56: Dispute! Shi Lei

In the long street of Fucheng, the sun slanted westward.

A figure walked slowly out from the corner pharmacy, Jiren Tang.

He wore plain gray robes, his hair streaked white, tall and slender, his face ordinary—unremarkable amid the crowd.

It was Jiang Ye.

To avoid attention, he had deliberately changed out of his Tianqing Sect steward’s robe.

He glanced down at the square jade box in his hand, inside which dozens of dark red herbs were neatly arranged—Hu Xin Cao.

The herb was not rare; ordinary pharmacies sold it, and he had paid only a hundred taels of silver.

To the public, Hu Xin Cao was merely an ordinary herb for clearing heat and relieving depression; few knew it was the demonic herb recorded in the Yu Du Jing, capable of making poisonous insects recognize a master.

“Quite a bargain.”

He murmured softly, tucked the jade box into his robe, and stepped toward Liu Qingshi’s residence.

Thud! Thud! Thud...

As he neared the gate of Liu Qingshi’s home, Jiang Ye heard a muffled sound of fist training inside.

“Oh?!”

A flicker of surprise crossed Jiang Ye’s eyes.

The fist strikes were muffled but lacked depth—clearly not Liu Qingshi training.

Jiang Ye lightly tapped his foot, leaping several feet into the air, landing silently atop the roof.

He looked down, an expression of quiet satisfaction softening his aged face.

In the courtyard, the figure sweating profusely as he trained was none other than Shi Lei, whom he hadn’t seen in some time.

The boy’s punches rang out with power—he had clearly broken through to Ming Jing.

Moreover, his qi was refined, his foundation even more solid than that of Hu Tian, once considered an upper-grade root.

“Good.”

Jiang Ye nodded inwardly.

Though Shi Lei’s root was poor, his will was unyielding, his perseverance exceptional—given time, he might truly achieve something in the martial path.

Yet as Jiang Ye watched, he noticed something amiss.

Shi Lei clenched his jaw tightly, his eyes red—as if suppressing a surge of rage.

“What’s going on?”

Jiang Ye’s nostrils twitched; he caught a faint, unusual scent.

A strong medicinal odor drifted through the air, mingled with a trace of... blood.

Someone was injured?!

He frowned, his form shifting, and landed silently in the courtyard.

Shi Lei, training furiously, remained unaware.

Jiang Ye followed the scent of medicine and blood until he stopped before the study.

He looked up—and his expression changed instantly.

Inside the room, Zhao Gang, the senior disciple of the martial academy, sat pale-faced on a chair, drinking medicinal broth—clearly badly wounded.

Beside him, Liu Qingshi was even worse: his face deathly pale, his breath erratic, a faint trail of blood at the corner of his mouth.

His wife, Huang Xiyu, wept uncontrollably, her face filled with anguish as she stared at Liu Qingshi, wanting to speak but unable to, only whispering sobs.

The stifled crying echoed through the study, tugging at the heart.

“Wife, it’s nothing—just minor injuries.”

Liu Qingshi gently patted his wife’s hand, his voice low and gentle, trying to soothe her.

But no sooner had he spoken than his brows twitched slightly—he had aggravated his wound, yet he bit back any cry.

“Master Liu, I’m sorry—it’s all my fault.”

Zhao Gang’s voice was hoarse and heavy with guilt.

He clenched his fist, as large as a sandbag, knuckles white, his face filled with suppressed fury and self-reproach:

“It’s my fault for being too impulsive...”

“They dared insult Lady Huang...”

“I just... I just couldn’t bear it...”

“It’s not your fault,” Liu Qingshi said, shaking his head slightly, his voice steady:

“Competition in Fucheng is always fierce.”

“The new trade route the Su family opened is essentially snatching food from Ding’s mouth.”

“The Ding family won’t let the Su family grow—they’ll inevitably clash with us over their patrons, the Kanglin Three Wolves.”

“Today’s skirmish merely lit the fuse ahead of schedule.”

“Besides, if they dared insult Xiyu, even if you hadn’t acted, I would have.”

As he spoke, Liu Qingshi’s usually calm face revealed a rare flash of cold fury.

No sooner had he finished than hurried footsteps sounded outside the courtyard.

“Master Liu, how is your injury?!”

Su Chen rushed into the study, face anxious, followed closely by Su Yan, equally distressed.

Both froze upon seeing the scene inside.

Su Yan hurried forward, placing several jade boxes on the table, her voice urgent:

“Master Liu, these are high-quality healing herbs—have them decocted and taken at once!”

Before Liu Qingshi could speak, Huang Xiyu suddenly lifted her head, her tear-streaked face now cold with fury: “Master Su!”

Her voice trembled, sharp with long-suppressed rage:

“Master Liu and you have been old acquaintances for years—today, for your trade venture, he nearly lost his life!”

“The Ding family’s patrons, the Kanglin Three Wolves, are three Hua Jing experts!”

“Zhao Gang only just broke through to Hua Jing—his foundation is unstable. How could Master Liu, with him, possibly fight three Hua Jing experts?!”

“If you can’t recruit another Hua Jing patron, we’ll have no choice but to withdraw!”

“We can’t risk our lives just for old ties!”

Hearing this, Su Chen’s face twisted in bitterness.

The Su family’s longtime patron, Guo Wei, had lost an arm not long ago and was still recovering—even if healed, his strength would be greatly diminished.

How could he not wish to recruit a new Hua Jing patron?

But it wasn’t simple. Recruiting a patron required not just strength, but character—otherwise, you invited a wolf into your home.

He had recently offered large sums, vetting several Hua Jing experts.

But each one either lacked sufficient power or had questionable morals.

Those with both qualities, upon learning of the recent friction between the Su and Ding families, all declined out of fear of the Kanglin Three Wolves’ notorious reputation.

He opened his mouth but found no words to defend himself, only sighed deeply, bowing to Huang Xiyu with sincere regret:

“Lady Huang, please calm yourself... this is truly my fault for dragging Master Liu into this.”

“I will recruit a new Hua Jing patron as soon as possible...”

“Master Liu is badly injured—he should rest at home for now.”

At this, Liu Qingshi frowned tightly: “If I rest, what happens to the trade route?”

Su Chen and Su Yan exchanged a glance—both faces etched with helplessness and exhaustion.

Su Chen opened his mouth to speak, but only let out a long sigh.

“The trade route... must be put on hold for now.”

Everyone knew what this meant.

All the silver invested, all the connections forged—gone to waste.

But what could be done?

“Master Liu, let it go.”

Su Chen’s voice was low and weary, tinged with resignation:

“I’ve already inquired into the Kanglin Three Wolves’ background.”

“In Kanglin County, they were local tyrants—powerful enough already.”

“Since joining the Ding family in Fucheng, their strength has grown further; together, even Hua Jing peak warriors avoid them.”

“That you and Zhao Gang escaped unharmed today, I already count as fortune.”

“I suspect only a Bao Dan expert could suppress them.”

“No wonder the Ding family’s trade route remains unshaken—I was naive to think this would be easy.”

Liu Qingshi fell silent, saying nothing for a long while.

In single combat, he feared none of the Kanglin Three Wolves.

But together, they were beyond his capacity.

The atmosphere in the room grew heavier.

Su Chen and Su Yan, unwilling to disturb Liu Qingshi and Zhao Gang’s recovery, offered a few more words of comfort, then rose to leave.

Their figures vanished beyond the courtyard gate, footsteps heavy as if bearing a thousand jin.

“Ding family... Kanglin Three Wolves...”

Outside the room, Jiang Ye listened to the muffled voices, his aged eyes filled with ice that refused to thaw.

At that moment, Huang Xiyu’s pained voice came again from inside the room:

“Qingshi, you’re injured—don’t wander around. Missing one day of incense won’t matter.”

“I’m fine. I’ll rest soon.”

Liu Qingshi’s voice remained steady, yet carried an unyielding stubbornness.

Supporting his wounded body, he took slow, unsteady steps toward another room.

It was the room where the ancestral tablets were enshrined.

Liu Qingshi walked to the blackwood tablet, calmly lit three incense sticks, and inserted them into the censer.

Thin plumes of blue smoke rose, blurring his pale face.

He stood there silently, as if turning all his fatigue, all his pain, all his repression into this silent gaze.

Long moments passed before he bowed slightly, offering a deep reverence to the tablet, then turned and exited the room, his steps trembling.

Jiang Ye, who had witnessed it all, fell silent for a long, long time.

Crack.

That was the sound of Jiang Ye’s finger bones shifting.