In the backyard, Lu Qingqing was on all fours, barking like a dog. Her light-blue dress had twisted into a wrinkled mess beneath her frantic movements.
Not far away, Lu Yingying sat in front of the firewood hut, eyes red and swollen, her rounded belly rising gently with each breath. She looked as though she had cried herself empty—yet the sight of Lu Qingqing’s antics coaxed a fragile, tear-stained smile from her.
Outside the courtyard gate, Lu Yiyi peeked through a narrow gap with Lu Sheng, her voice tinged with pity. “Ever since finding out that the scholar from the Yang family married a wife, Yingying has been washing her face with tears.”
She exhaled softly, shaking her head. “I’m afraid Yingying will go mad if this continues. She’s always been naïve, always believing in the best of others. She finally found someone she thought she could entrust her life to… but who would have expected this?”
Lu Yiyi had been studying in another city and returned home for vacation; upon learning of Yingying’s plight, she had immediately volunteered to console her.
Through the narrow crack, Lu Sheng observed Yingying’s trembling form and the curve of her belly. “How long has she been carrying the child?”
“Over six months,” Lu Yiyi answered quietly.
Lu Sheng’s thoughts tightened. He recalled his promise with Chen Yunxi—to wait a year before their engagement—yet they had fulfilled that promise early and become engaged after just half a year. The timing aligned perfectly.
His expression darkened. “I’ll handle this matter.”
Lu Yiyi grabbed his sleeve anxiously. “What do you plan to do, Brother Sheng? Going to their family won’t change anything…”
“You don’t need to worry about it,” Lu Sheng said flatly before turning to leave.
By noon, Crimson Whale Sect’s network had already traced the Yang family of the scholar who had impregnated Lu Yingying. That afternoon, a detailed dossier was delivered to Lu Sheng’s desk in his study.
He skimmed through the report. The Yang family was a typical middle-class household—three generations of provincial-level examination scholars, tax exemptions, acres of accumulated land, growing wealth, and rising influence in Mountain-Edge City. Their only true peculiarity was the scholar himself.
But that was all.
A family like the Yangs lived in an awkward space—too distant from the true upper circles to be privy to sensitive matters, yet far above the common folk and openly disdainful of them. Too wealthy for the poor, too insignificant for the elite.
In his bedroom at Lu Manor, Lu Sheng penned a short memo addressed to Jade Lotus and tied it to a carrier pigeon. With his current status, he no longer needed to dirty his hands with such trivial affairs.
By evening, while he was out sightseeing with the younger members of the family, the sect’s reply arrived.
Yang Family’s old master had vomited blood from anger, refusing to submit. He claimed he would rely on the rule of law in Mountain-Edge City and see whether villains would truly be allowed to act without restraint.
Lu Sheng crushed the memo into a tight ball, his expression twisting into a cold sneer. “He prefers death to submission? Three generations of provincial scholars indeed. He’s got backbone. But if backbone were of any use, why would martial arts rule this world?”
A nearby sect disciple, one of his closer attendants, spoke in a low voice. “That is, after all, Young Miss Yingying’s husband’s family… we didn’t dare act recklessly. Lord Jade Lotus is still waiting for the Sect Master’s instructions.”
Lu Sheng waved dismissively. “What instructions does he need? If they refuse to submit, then beat them. Beat them until they do. Backbone without value is just stupidity.” He let out a brief, cold laugh. “It seems my words no longer carry weight in Mountain-Edge City…”
The disciple swallowed, then asked cautiously, “Sect Master, what if they still refuse to submit? Your subordinate has heard of the Yangs. They’re famously stubborn—convinced they’re righteous, incorruptible, unyielding…”
Lu Sheng scoffed. “Won’t they submit after a few deaths? And if even that doesn’t work, wipe them out. Mountain-Edge City is full of small families. Whether the Yangs exist or not changes nothing.”
The disciple’s heart lurched, but he bowed quickly and accepted the order.
…………
BAM!!
The gates of the Yang Family manor burst open as though struck by a battering ram. Housemen rushed forward, ready to fight—only to freeze when they recognized the intruders’ clothing.
Shang Qinglong strode in at the front. Tall and broad-shouldered, his bare torso gleamed under the daylight, and the two massive iron hammers at his waist clinked with every step. He wore a smug, almost bored expression. Jade Lotus had chosen him precisely because he was seasoned in handling matters like this.
Yang Family’s old master, already eighty-two and frail from age, shuffled into the courtyard. Living that long in such turbulent times was a rarity, yet now his thin frame trembled with fury and fear. At the sight of Crimson Whale Sect disciples filing in, his voice caught in his throat.
“You! You—you—you!!” he sputtered.
Middle-aged men soon rushed out from deeper within the manor. Several wore the dignified attire of imperial provincial examination graduates, their expressions righteous and stern as they confronted the intruders.
“What are you doing?! Is this rebellion?!”
“Get out at once! How dare you trespass!”
Shang Qinglong lazily drew a toothpick from his mouth, flicking a glance at them. “Hand over Yang Yundu. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Whoever caused this mess should take responsibility.”
An authoritative middle-aged man stepped forward, looking every bit the official he claimed to be. “Report this! File a case immediately! Bring Lieutenant Qing here to see who dares storm a civilian household in broad daylight!” he barked, undaunted by the armed men surrounding them.
Shang Qinglong laughed. “File a report? Who in Mountain-Edge City would dare meddle in Crimson Whale Sect’s affairs? Go ask around what happened to all those who tried.”
He clapped his hands once, irritated. “Enough nonsense. Give us your answer. Your Yang Yundu impregnated a young lady at the height of her life, then had the audacity to take another wife. How do you intend to settle this?”
Old Master Yang trembled visibly, his finger quivering as he pointed at Shang Qinglong. “Scoundrel!! That vixen seduced our Yundu! If not for her scheming, how would this have happened? She has tarnished his name and character—how dare she now accuse the victim!?”
Shang Qinglong’s face hardened instantly. “So you don’t intend to comply?”
“Comply? And how exactly do you want us to comply?” The middle-aged man caught Old Master Yang by the arm, stepped forward, and glared coldly at Shang Qinglong.
Shang Qinglong laughed softly. “Simple. Yang Yundu divorces his current wife and officially takes Young Miss Lu Yingying as his legitimate spouse. Then your Yang Family puts up a public notice admitting your mistake…”
“Impossible!! You’ve gone too far!!” the middle-aged man roared.
Shang Qinglong’s grin widened. “So you want to do this the hard way. I admire the backbone!” His smile vanished in an instant as he bellowed, “WHACK THEM! Hit them hard! If anyone dies, I’ll take responsibility!!”
A few mere provincial graduates daring to posture in front of a Crimson Whale elite—pure foolishness.
Crimson Whale Sect disciples surged forward like wolves. Though they could not match supernatural experts, overwhelming ordinary men was child’s play. Even the housemen armed with swords crumpled within a single exchange.
In moments, the Yang Family’s defenders lay defeated—bound on the ground, groaning. Those who struggled fiercely were beaten until their bodies were drenched in blood, barely clinging to consciousness. The wiser ones suffered only bruises, kneeling with their wrists tied behind them.
Shang Qinglong strode up to Old Master Yang and spat disdainfully at the floor before him. “Pui! Go find out what kind of backing Crimson Whale Sect has before you run your mouth. How dare you disgrace Young Miss of Lu Manor? You think you’ve got nine lives?”
“You—you—you—you!!” The elderly man trembled violently, the fury overwhelming his frail body. Moments later, he collapsed, unconscious.
“Dad!”
“Grandpa!!”
Even with their arms bound, the younger generation scrambled to support him, panic flooding their faces.
Shang Qinglong’s mood soured; the fun was over. With a curt gesture, he ordered his men to drag out Yang Yundu and his wife from the underground cellar where they had been hiding like frightened rats.
At the sight of Yang Yundu, Shang Qinglong raised a brow in surprise. “No wonder you managed to seduce Young Miss Yingying. You really do have a pretty-boy face. Even your father here is almost charmed.”
Yang Yundu’s face was delicately handsome—almost feminine. Even as he was dragged from the cellar, he did not panic. Instead, a soft, sorrowful helplessness clouded his expression.
“Are you Yingying’s friends? I’ve failed her…” He cupped his fists toward Shang Qinglong, sighing faintly. “But I cannot go against my father’s orders…”
Because he was merely a scholar with no martial ability, the disciple who seized him had not bothered binding him.
Shang Qinglong maintained a courteous tone—just in case the situation shifted and this man became the Sect Master’s relative. “Young Master Yang, divorce or not divorce? Give me your answer so I can report back.”
Yang Yundu looked at his family—tied up, battered, some barely breathing. The sight struck him like a blow. Tears welled and streamed down his cheeks as the weight of responsibility settled heavily on him.
Shang Qinglong clicked his tongue, growing impatient. “Alright, enough acting. Yang Yundu, we know exactly what kind of person you are. You’re unmatched when it comes to putting on a façade. Don’t think we haven’t uncovered the filth you pulled in the past.” He leaned in slightly, voice dropping. “If you’d ruined anyone else, we wouldn’t care. But you laid hands on our Young Miss Yingying. So spare us the drama and accept your fate before we have to use force.”
A glint of venom flashed through Yang Yundu’s eyes. “What are you talking about? I don’t understand a word of this.”
Shang Qinglong sneered. “Pretending to be a refined, elegant young master to trick girls and steal their virgin blood. Tell me, Yang Yundu—how far have you cultivated your Commanding Nine Provinces Fist?”
“You!!?” Yang Yundu’s face drained of color. Shock and terror contorted his features. That was his deepest secret—how could this brute possibly know?
Ignoring the horrified stares of his family, he stepped forward abruptly. “How did you know!?”
Shang Qinglong snorted. “That’s why I said it doesn’t matter if you were a flower-culler. Now that you’ve fallen into my hands, I—Shang Qinglong of Crimson Whale Sect—will make you tend flowers in Lu Manor!”
“In your dreams!” Realizing the danger, Yang Yundu suddenly sprang upward, his body shooting toward the tall courtyard wall with astonishing speed.
“Hit!”
Laughing loudly, Shang Qinglong launched himself into the air as well, palm striking out with even greater swiftness.
At that same instant, a figure vaulted over the wall from the outside—an elderly man, short, white-bearded, and deceptively quick.
One in front, one behind—their attacks converged on Yang Yundu at the same moment.
BAM!!
Yang Yundu twisted midair, arms sweeping out—one forward, one back—to intercept both strikes. Then, like a swallow cutting through the wind, he flipped away again, attempting escape.
PUU!!
Several enormous nets shot upward, unfurling across the sky and dropping over him. From outside the courtyard, dozens of crossbowmen took aim through the mesh.
Yang Yundu froze.
He had only recently stepped into Intent Proficiency. A single reckless move could destroy years of painstaking, secret cultivation. He dared not gamble.
Shang Qinglong landed with a thud, cursing. “Good lad. Lucky for you, your father here prepared for every trick you could pull. You almost slipped away.”
Yang Yundu hit the ground moments later, tangled completely in the nets, helpless.
Shang Qinglong walked over and gave him a merciless kick. “This net’s woven from a thousand strands of oiled rope. Even a shark couldn’t break out of it. And you think you can?” He waved his hand. “Take him away!”
The men bound Yang Yundu tightly and marched him toward Lu Manor, while the Yang Family watched, helpless and pale, with no idea what they could possibly do.
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