Chapter 44: The Zhu Family Sends Word

Zhu family.

From early morning, the servants in the house had been bustling about, slaughtering cattle and sheep—the scene rivaled the New Year festivities.

Wang Zhao had swept the stable spotless before dawn.

Ever since Li Rui had been freed from servitude, he had become the Zhu family’s new stable hand.

He was still young.

He had not yet reached the age or status to take on apprentices, so most of the time, he was the only one managing the stable.

Fortunately, he was long accustomed to such days and did not find them tiring.

He swept the stable again and again with a broom.

“Master Zhu told me to clean the stable thoroughly today—looks like someone important is coming.”

Wang Zhao lacked talent; he couldn’t match Li Rui, nor even the late Ma Yang.

But he was diligent.

Whatever the steward assigned, he did earnestly—if he failed once, he tried twice, never growing weary, and Master Zhu himself appreciated this trait.

Who wouldn’t favor a hardworking, lazy-free servant?

At this moment—

A familiar voice came from behind: “Hey, Xiao Zhao, still sweeping?”

Wang Zhao straightened up and wiped his sweat with a relatively clean back of his hand: “Uncle Yong.”

Usually, if someone called you “Xiao” plus your surname, it meant a casual relationship; if they called you by your given name alone, it meant closeness; but if they said “Xiao” plus your full name, you were inseparable friends.

Wang Zhao and Yang Yong both worked for the Zhu family, and through their connection to Li Rui, they had grown into an unlikely friendship across generations.

They looked out for each other, making life in the Zhu household a little easier.

Just poor souls huddling together for warmth.

Wang Zhao asked curiously: “Uncle Yong, who’s the big shot visiting the household? Why all this fuss?”

Ducks sense spring’s warmth first.

A household is the same—when something major happens, the guards are usually the first to sense it.

Yang Yong smirked: “Who else? The eldest son’s returned from Huaqing Sect, and he’s brought a few fellow disciples along.”

“It’s only June—why is the eldest son back already?”

Wang Zhao was surprised.

The eldest son, Zhu Yue, was the Zhu family’s future—certainly the next patriarch. Naturally, Wang Zhao paid close attention to anything concerning Zhu Yue.

Yang Yong shrugged: “How would a guard like me know?”

As the two spoke—

A burst of firecrackers suddenly erupted outside the gate.

Wang Zhao’s expression shifted:

“They’re here!”

Outside the Zhu family gate.

Three chestnut-colored steeds strode confidently, their hooves clattering on the cobblestones of the alleyway.

Zhu Ping and his entire family had already been waiting at the gate.

Neighbors nearby cast envious glances.

Zhu Ping straightened his back, beaming with pride.

He had raised a fine son.

Zhu Yue was now a disciple of Huaqing Sect; someday, he might become a seventh-rank martial cultivator. When he returned to inherit the family, he would surely lead the Zhu family to new glory.

He might even elevate them to the status of one of the three hundred-year clans.

Zhu Ping felt his life had not been wasted.

Soon, his eyes lit up.

Zhu Yue’s figure appeared around the street corner, riding a blood-sweating steed, accompanied by Han Qin and Jiang Yan, who had visited the Zhu household before.

Han Qin smiled as always: “Young Master Zhu, your home is truly grand and refined.”

Zhu Yue forced a smile, glancing at Jiang Yan, who had slightly furrowed her brow.

The smell of gunpowder in the air was unpleasant.

Soon after—

Zhu Yue and the two others arrived before the Zhu family.

Zhu Ping beamed: “Good son, honored guests, we meet again.”

Han Qin smiled slightly: “Uncle Zhu.”

Jiang Yan said nothing, only nodded slightly in greeting.

Zhu Yue stepped beside Zhu Ping and lowered his voice: “Father, don’t use firecrackers again—they’re beneath dignity.”

Zhu Ping nodded with a smile: “If you dislike them, I won’t use them again.”

Then the Zhu family surrounded the three Huaqing Sect disciples and led them into the courtyard.

A faint, barely noticeable disappointment flickered in Zhu Ping’s eyes.

“Children grow up and no longer listen to their parents.”

Ever since Zhu Yue joined Huaqing Sect, his horizons had widened—he now looked down on the Zhu family, even on all of Qinghe County.

That wasn’t necessarily bad.

But when it came to a prospective patriarch, the problem became serious.

Zhu Ping wanted his son to thrive at Huaqing Sect, yet feared Zhu Yue would grow too distant from the family and eventually refuse to inherit the patriarch’s seat.

If that happened, when he died, the entire family fortune would become someone else’s inheritance.

The Zhu family sighed.

Afraid their son would fail, yet afraid he would succeed too well.

“Let him be.”

Zhu Ping took a deep breath. He was indeed the Zhu family patriarch.

But he was still a father.

As long as Zhu Yue lived well, he didn’t care if he inherited the estate—his lineage would still flourish elsewhere.

Everyone sat in the main hall.

Only then did Zhu Ping politely ask: “Yue, guests, you may stay several days in Qinghe—there are many pleasant places nearby for cooling off.”

Han Qin declined: “Uncle Zhu, no need for sightseeing. You’re no stranger—we can speak plainly. We’ve come to assist Elder Jiang with the Ghost Ming Cult matter.”

Elder Jiang?

Zhu Ping’s pupils widened slightly.

Jiang Linxian!

He was merely a patriarch—he didn’t know the full details of what had happened in the city that night—but Jiang Linxian’s name was legendary.

Jiang Linxian had come to Qinghe?!

Zhu Yue spoke: “Father, this matter concerns Elder Jiang—don’t ask further.”

“Yes, yes, yes.”

Zhu Ping nodded rapidly.

He had long learned that knowing too much only invited disaster upon the Zhu family.

Zhu Yue turned to Jiang Yan beside him: “Young Miss Jiang, the Ghost Ming Cult’s roots run deep—it will take time to find them. Why not invite Elder Jiang to stay at our home for a few days?”

Jiang Yan shook her head: “Father is a free spirit—vanishes without a trace. I don’t even know where he’s gone.”

“Understood.”

Zhu Yue felt a pang of disappointment.

Zhu Ping could no longer hide his shock—this young girl was Jiang Linxian’s daughter.

A noble lady!

He had once used underhanded methods to win Zhu Yue’s mother, and only after the deed was done did he leverage her family’s resources to climb to his current position.

He would never dare use such vile tactics on Jiang Yan.

But if Zhu Yue could become Jiang Linxian’s son-in-law, he wouldn’t even care if he inherited the patriarch’s seat!

Zhu Yue glanced silently at Jiang Yan.

In truth, he had thought the same.

Jiang Yan added: “The Ghost Ming Cult’s branches are tangled—we need help from other factions.”

Zhu Yue quickly replied: “The Zhu family has connections in the government—we can assist.”

Ever since learning Jiang Linxian was in Qinghe—

He had been determined to make himself noticeable, to leave a good impression on his future father-in-law.

Jiang Yan shook her head: “The Zhu family isn’t enough—we need more, stronger allies.”

(End of chapter)