Chapter Thirty-Five: Flowery Fists and Embroidered Legs? (Third Update)

Lately, the Jiang family had been bustling with activity. Both the elder and younger generations were joining forces, fully preparing to operate a series of business contracts. The ventures included real estate development, a riverside water amusement park, trade and dining enterprises, and the Xia family had even proposed establishing a Michelin four-star international restaurant in Cloud City. Altogether, these projects spanned more than a dozen industries. Most of them were joint ventures, with the Jiang family holding a controlling stake and enjoying full leadership.

Such was the goodwill hinted at by many of the city's leading figures. The Jiang family, never lacking in shrewd minds, naturally understood the implications.

Meanwhile, the area outside Jiang Yu’s room had become quiet—several days had passed without a single visitor. But this was for the best; during cultivation, external noise was the greatest taboo, disrupting one’s concentration. The path of cultivation was governed by strict rules, and during seclusion, outside disturbance was forbidden.

Five thousand years ago, there was the example of Daoist Nanhua from the Sacred Land of Nanhua. Before entering seclusion in his cave, he placed seven life-bound immortal swords at the entrance, with the warning: anyone who crossed the sword line during his retreat would die. Not even his wife or children dared to disturb him. Before his retreat, all creatures—birds, beasts, insects—within a hundred-mile radius would be driven away or cut down with a single stroke. The nine Real Persons and twelve Palace Disciples of the Sacred Land guarded his cave, making it impossible for even a fly to approach within five hundred meters.

Another example was the Daoist patriarch and Hermit Immortal, who would seal his cave with a giant cauldron weighing ten thousand pounds before entering seclusion, cutting off all contact with the outside world.

Such stories were common among cultivators. The path itself was one of enlightenment; a single misstep could result in more than just a loss of progress—it could mean the dissipation of one's Dao and even death. Only in a serene and quiet environment could a cultivator truly settle their heart. At critical moments, even the cry of a bird could cause irreparable consequences.

Four days later, Jiang Ziyue called.

She asked Jiang Yu to accompany her to a competition organized by Xia Qinghan. Jiang Yu had already agreed before, so he didn’t give it much thought. He washed up casually and left.

Inside the Audi A6, Jiang Shaoqi and Zheng Xuan sat in the back, chatting and laughing. Having stayed with the Jiang family for a while, their relationship had deepened.

“I heard that Mo Tian, the president of the Taekwondo Club at Seventeen High, will be there too?” Jiang Ziyue asked curiously. Though a young lady, she admired strength and would attend any such event.

Jiang Shaoqi smiled. “Indeed. Mo Tian is one of Xia Qinghan’s admirers. At eighteen, he advanced from a red belt to a black belt and even took fourth place in the National Youth Taekwondo Championship.”

Jiang Ziyue pursed her lips thoughtfully. In Taekwondo, rank was signified by the color of one’s belt: white, yellow, green, blue, red, and black—white being lowest, black highest. Upon attaining a black belt, one could open a school and gain local renown.

Jiang Shaoqi continued, “It’s not just Mo Tian. There’s also Zhou Yongji, the Judo champion from Ninth High, and Liu Xu, the Sanda expert…”

As the names rolled off his tongue, Jiang Ziyue’s expression changed completely. Though these individuals didn’t attend First High, their reputations were well known throughout Cloud City's academies—just as they were familiar with Jiang Shaoqi’s own.

Each had their strengths. Jiang Shaoqi was a genius in academics; Mo Tian and Zhou Yongji were formidable fighters. All had heard of one another’s fame.

“It seems that the rivalry between the Xia family’s two branches is growing fiercer,” Jiang Shaoqi remarked. “The younger generation of the right branch, led by Xia Qinghan, is using this competition as a screen to select promising talents to be nurtured as the right branch’s core force—injecting fresh blood into their ranks.”

“I heard Xia Qinghan is not only stunning and elegant but also a martial arts expert, skilled in Jeet Kune Do, Wing Chun, Muay Thai, Judo, and other forms of mixed combat,” Jiang Ziyue said with a wry smile. “That woman is practically a little demoness.”

The car fell silent. Their generation was brimming with prodigies, and an invisible pressure weighed on each of them, making it hard to breathe.

The venue was set at the fourth floor of the Baida Plaza Mall—a space of over a thousand square meters, fully equipped with all manner of training apparatus. At the center stood a boxing ring more than twenty square meters in size. Baida Plaza was one of the Xia family’s enterprises, and with Xia Qinghan’s status, appropriating the top floor for a boxing gym was a trivial matter.

By the time Jiang Yu and his party arrived, the place was already packed, buzzing with conversation. On the ring, two figures traded blows in a fierce contest, using knees, fists, and elbows—the basics of combat. Occasionally, the dull thud of fists colliding could be heard.

“Mo Tian? He’s actually fighting Zhou Yongji?” Jiang Ziyue exclaimed in surprise.

Zheng Xuan, smiling beside her, replied, “People their age are full of pride; none willing to yield. It’s normal for them to settle things on the ring. For them, the only way to determine superiority is by whose fists are heavier.”

Jiang Yu took a casual look and lost interest. The moves were flashy, good for show and drawing cheers from the fangirls, but in the path of martial arts, such flourishes were a grave fault. In short, all style and no substance.

Shaking his head, Jiang Yu found a seat at random.

Jiang Ziyue soon joined the ranks of the cheering fans, her shouts spurring the fighters on. With a beautiful woman in the crowd, Mo Tian and Zhou Yongji fought even harder, sweat pouring down their bodies.

“Impressive, Mo Tian! I didn’t expect that after two years, you’d already reached the level of fifth dan black belt,” Zhou Yongji laughed heartily, his eyes burning with fighting spirit.

The two fought for over ten minutes, ending in a draw. Out of mutual respect and to save face, they always held back; neither wanted to see the other humiliated in front of the crowd. Today was a competition, not an occasion for enmity. They were both shrewd enough to understand that.

In the crowd, Jiang Shaoqi was holding Zheng Xuan’s hand, whispering to her. Opposite him stood a cold and arrogant figure—Liu Xu—slender and sharp-eyed, exuding an air of wild intensity.

“Jiang Shaoqi, I don’t hold back when I fight. I’m worried that cripple won’t last, and I’ll end up in trouble just for helping you vent,” Liu Xu said, his tone as arrogant as his bearing.

Jiang Shaoqi sneered, “Xu, just pull your punches a bit.”

Liu Xu glanced toward Jiang Yu, considering. They moved in the same social circles, and he owed Jiang Shaoqi a favor. If he refused now, what would others think of him in the future?

Jiang Shaoqi felt pleased, thinking, “Jiang Yu, so what if you know Xia Ning? She can’t always help you. Faced with Liu Xu’s challenge, are you going to have Xia Ning fight in your place?”

Liu Xu nodded. “Alright, I’ll do this, but after today, my debt to you is paid.”

Jiang Shaoqi smiled broadly. “Agreed.”

Jiang Shaoqi simply wanted to use this opportunity to teach Jiang Yu a lesson, make him see the reality: no matter his grades or connections, he would always be that useless member of the Jiang family, the mud under Jiang Shaoqi’s feet.

Liu Xu calmly stepped onto the ring, his gaze sweeping over the crowd.

Mo Tian asked with a smile, “Liu Xu, do you want to fight me?”

Zhou Yongji, too, gave a challenging look, saying nothing but conveying his meaning clearly.

Liu Xu, an expert in Sanda and close-range combat, was second only to Mo Tian and Zhou Yongji in strength.

With all eyes on him, Liu Xu shook his head and looked at Jiang Yu. “I want to challenge you.”

Everyone followed his gaze, finally noticing Jiang Yu, who stood quietly with hands behind his back.

“Kid, do you dare come up here?” Liu Xu said, hands on hips, a slight sneer in his tone.

Jiang Yu tilted his head, amused. “I don’t think we know each other. Challenging me right off the bat—are you doing someone’s bidding?”

He glanced toward Jiang Shaoqi, standing in the crowd.

Liu Xu shook his head. “No need for reasons. In the club, might makes right. There’s no rule saying I can’t challenge you, is there?”

Unexpectedly, Jiang Yu replied, “Sorry, I don’t accept your challenge. I concede.”

The crowd was stunned. Was this kid shameless? Surrendering without a fight—even Mo Tian and Zhou Yongji frowned. Such a person was an insult to the club.

Liu Xu was left speechless. With Jiang Yu conceding, what more could he say?

Jiang Yu’s nonchalant demeanor made him feel as if he’d punched a pillow—no resistance at all.

“Heh, who would have thought there’d be someone so spineless in our midst? Bullied and not a shred of masculine resolve,” Mo Tian laughed, losing interest in Jiang Yu.

After a moment of awkward silence, Liu Xu’s face flushed. “Fine, if you won’t accept my challenge, get on your knees, kowtow, and get out of the club.”

Jiang Yu frowned, looking at Liu Xu on the ring. “So today you’re determined to fight me? I conceded to save your pride. Don’t let yourself be used as a tool—I’m giving you a chance.”

Liu Xu sneered, “Slick words.”

Jiang Yu sighed. “Do you know why I won’t accept your challenge?”

Everyone looked at him curiously, even Liu Xu, who instinctively asked, “Why?”

Jiang Yu grinned and, in a calm voice, declared, “Because none of your flowery moves are worthy of my attention!”

At the same time, Jiang Ziyue’s face changed dramatically and she shouted, “Jiang Yu, are you crazy?”