Chapter Eighteen: Utter Nonsense! (Please recommend and add to your favorites)

Now, let's return to Jiang Yu and Xia Wuchang.

After stepping out of the main entrance, Xia Wuchang’s expression immediately returned to his usual composure, and any trace of respect for Jiang Yu faded away. His earlier display in the private room was no more than his typical manner; after all, was he to lower himself and beg for someone’s favor? Given Xia Ning’s involvement, he’d only given Jiang Yu some face, addressing him as “Sir” out of courtesy. As the Chief Steward of the Xia family, he commanded authority wherever he went. Escorting someone away from a mere department-level cadre was hardly a challenge.

But now, having seen Jiang Yu in person, Xia Wuchang was gravely disappointed. Xia Ning’s father held the highest authority within the Xia family’s left branch, his position unassailable. With his support, the left branch had managed to barely withstand the right branch’s relentless suppression. Yet, Xia Ning’s father, Xia Housheng, had recently succumbed to illness, and so the stewardship of the left branch naturally fell to Xia Wuchang.

Earlier, Xia Ning had discussed with Xia Wuchang whether to take the risk of inviting Jiang Yu to treat her father. Even if the chances were slim, any hope was better than none. She’d described Jiang Yu as an extraordinary individual, someone who, with a few words, had deduced Xia Housheng’s affliction. Among nearly a hundred cases, nothing like this had ever happened—a man diagnosing without even seeing the patient.

Holding out hope, Xia Wuchang resolved to personally greet this “elderly” gentleman. Yet, because Xia Ning never once mentioned Jiang Yu’s age and, in her efforts to persuade Xia Wuchang, extolled Jiang Yu to the heavens, painting him as some divine being, the reality was jarring. Now, seeing Jiang Yu as a youth of no more than eighteen or nineteen, Xia Wuchang’s dissatisfaction only grew. In his imagination, shaped by Xia Ning’s enthusiastic praise, Jiang Yu was a remarkable figure—if not a venerable medical sage, then at least an enigmatic recluse with ethereal bearing.

Lost in such thoughts, Xia Wuchang ushered Jiang Yu into the Mercedes Benz executive sedan.

To be worldly-wise is itself a lesson; to be adept in human dealings is a craft. Despite his displeasure, Xia Wuchang held his tongue—he was already here, after all, and it was he who had agreed to Xia Ning’s request. Regardless of his feelings, he would at least bring Jiang Yu to the Xia household before making further judgments. After all, those so-called revered medical masters and even the world’s top Western specialists had failed to cure Xia Housheng; perhaps it was time to see what this youth could accomplish.

Once in the car, Jiang Yu looked down at his fingers, a faint, bitter smile on his lips. The earlier feat of intercepting a bullet with bare hands might have appeared impressive and sensational, but in truth, his two fingers had nearly fractured under the bullet’s explosive force as it left the chamber.

“Mr. Jiang... how did you offend Director Han?” Xia Wuchang asked with curiosity.

Jiang Yu replied calmly, “I was only collecting something owed to me.”

“That fat man from earlier—did you kill him?” Xia Wuchang pressed, his brows furrowing.

Jiang Yu nodded, concise and direct. “Yes.”

Now it was Xia Wuchang’s turn to be startled. Clearly, this young man was not as simple as he appeared. After taking a life, he conversed as if nothing had happened, showing no hint of psychological burden, as though he had merely slaughtered a pig or a dog.

Yet, how could Xia Wuchang possibly know that, during the Warring States period in the year 260 A.D., one of Jiang Yu’s own disciples, Mi, waged war across the six kingdoms and ultimately orchestrated the massacre of four hundred thousand Zhao soldiers? Mi was more widely known by his fearsome title: the God of Slaughter, Bai Qi. Later betrayed and forced to take his own life in the command tent, Bai Qi was avenged by a furious Jiang Yu, who cut down a million souls in his wrath, flooding the land with blood and cleaving through more than a dozen cities in a single stroke—leaving countless lives as mere spirits beneath his sword. The Six Kingdoms trembled; mighty Qin sued for peace. In that era, none could contend with an immortal. Thus, Jiang Yu, standing alone against the heavens, was revered as the Sage of the Bright Cavern. Compared to Zhang Zeshui, what did a million souls mean?

Half an hour later, the executive car wound its way up the hillside to a villa overlooking Wild Duck Lake. At the entrance stood a massive stone stele, engraved with the words: “Mandarin ducks frolic on Wild Lake, listen to the rain by the railing.” The bold, vigorous calligraphy bespoke a master’s hand, perfectly capturing the villa district’s idyllic charm.

By now, the mountain villas of Wild Duck Lake glittered with ten thousand lights. The tranquil surroundings made it a perfect place to cultivate peace of mind and spirit. The Xia family’s estate, perched at the summit, sprawled across over a thousand square meters of opulence, gleaming gold from the outside. Security guards patrolled the gardens and the gates.

Standing alone in the night breeze was Xia Ning, clad in a black, backless evening gown that revealed her fair shoulders and back, the long skirt trailing over the cobblestone path, her slender legs indistinct beneath the fabric. Her expression was cool, her lips pressed in a slight line.

As Jiang Yu stepped from the car, he was momentarily captivated. Xia Ning’s beauty and figure easily surpassed both Jiang Ziyue and Sun Wanyue. Yet, the golden energy that once gathered on her brow now seemed almost blinding.

“Mr. Jiang, you’re here,” Xia Ning said softly, her tone tinged with difficulty.

Jiang Yu immediately saw her predicament and smiled, “If there’s something to say, say it openly. No need to be evasive.”

Xia Wuchang also looked at Xia Ning, his gaze questioning. She managed a helpless smile, “While you were on your way, Mr. Shen’s teacher emerged from seclusion earlier than expected and arrived before you.” Her meaning was clear: apologies, but someone else—someone trustworthy—had already come, so perhaps Jiang Yu could return home.

Were it anything else, Jiang Yu would have laughed it off and left, deeming it no longer his concern. But this time, the matter involved the Golden Flame of Biquan, and Jiang Yu was determined. After a moment’s thought, he replied with a faint smile, “Since I’m here, I might as well go in and have a look.”

Xia Ning, who had first invited Jiang Yu, was relieved to see that he took the news calmly, without the slightest sign of anger. The anxiety that had gripped her finally eased.

“Very well, Mr. Jiang, please come inside,” she said gracefully, leading the way.

As soon as they entered the villa, Jiang Yu squinted at the dazzling lights, feeling a bit unaccustomed to the brilliance. The villa’s interior was a duplex; the floors were gilded, the wine cabinets and desks carved from polished southern red sandalwood, a nineteenth-century handcrafted piano stood in a corner, and a genuine leather sofa sewn from whale skin completed the scene. Here, everything proclaimed the status of a true aristocratic family.

There, Shen Gongzi, elegant as ever, idly twirled a wooden fan. By his side sat an elderly man with a white beard and hair, dressed in training attire, eyes closed as if oblivious to his surroundings.

At the sight of the old man, Xia Wuchang, proud as he was, hurried forward to pay his respects as a disciple, bowing deeply. “Junior Xia Wuchang greets Elder Shen.”

Elder Shen nodded ever so slightly in response.

Nearby sat a slovenly middle-aged man, eyes dull, complexion ashen. His exposed skin was cracked and parched like a dried lakebed, his blood golden and faintly aromatic—just as Jiang Yu had surmised.

“It must be because Xia Ning often interacts with this man that she’s taken on traces of the Golden Aura of Biquan,” Jiang Yu thought.

Xia Ning hurried over and poured out some pills, “Father, take these painkillers first. Then let Elder Shen treat you.”

Though tortured by his condition, the man’s eyes still held a trace of authority. He nodded, “Who would have thought that after a lifetime of triumph in the business world, I, Xia Housheng, would end my days with such an ominous fate? Go ahead, do as you must—if I die under treatment, at least my suffering will end.”

Elder Shen opened his eyes and spoke unhurriedly, “I have long since discerned your ailment, Mr. Xia. You’ve been poisoned by an unknown toxin, one that acts like a frog boiled in warm water—no initial symptoms, but by the time you sense it, it’s already too late.”

Desperate to save her father, Xia Ning pleaded, “As long as you can cure him, Elder Shen, you may name any reward you wish.”

Elder Shen smiled, hands clasped behind his back, “At my stage, I have long since abandoned worldly desires, seeking only enlightenment. Money is but a fleeting thing. However, my disciple here has yet to start a family, and as his teacher, I am somewhat concerned…” He left the rest unsaid, but the implication was clear.

Xia Ning’s lips pressed together, her body trembling. After a moment’s hesitation, she steeled herself. “Very well. If you cure my father, I will marry Mr. Shen.”

Shen Gongzi’s eyes brightened, delight flickering behind a mask of composure, “Miss Xia Ning, I hope this isn’t too difficult for you.”

Xia Ning shook her head, “It isn’t.”

A look of satisfaction crept across Xia Wuchang’s face, as if he had forgotten Jiang Yu’s very presence. It was said that Elder Shen had reached the peak of the Strengthening Stage a decade ago and, after a decade in seclusion, had likely broken through to become a Grandmaster of Transformation. This man’s medical skills, rooted in the art of formations, were nearly miraculous.

If Xia Ning and Shen Gongzi were joined in marriage, and the left branch of the Xia family gained Elder Shen’s support, with a Grandmaster in residence, surpassing the right branch was only a matter of time.

In great families, the marriages of offspring were always bargaining chips. Xia Ning knew this well. Besides, Shen Gongzi was young and handsome; marrying him was hardly a loss. The right branch revered martial strength, the left branch pursued commerce, but in recent years, as the martial world rose, the left branch had struggled, desperately seeking a worldly master’s backing.

Yet, even Strengthening experts were rare, let alone Grandmasters or those above—the so-called “Great Masters.” A Great Master could stand unchallenged among heroes, yet in all of China, such figures were as rare as giant pandas.

Seeing his aims achieved, Elder Shen nodded with a smile, “I have already arranged a Six-Yao Qimen formation around the villa. This Daoist array of pure yang is just what’s needed to combat the virulent toxin. Using poison to attack poison, results are assured.”

Jiang Yu closed his eyes, his spiritual sense radiating outward, instantly detecting the presence of the formation. After a long moment, he opened his eyes and spoke softly, “Utter nonsense.”

Only then did the assembled company notice the presence of a youth in the hall, as if he had appeared out of nowhere.