Chapter Forty-Three: Traces of the Thunder Vein Once More

Su Ye felt a wave of relief wash over him when he heard Jiang Ziyang’s voice. Jiang Ziyang, who could single-handedly uphold the entire Jiang family, possessed cultivation far beyond what this gravely wounded assassin could withstand.

As expected, it was over in less than two moves.

Jiang Ziyang struck through the air with a palm, producing a deep, muffled sound that echoed through the hall. In an instant, a swirling gust knocked the assassin to the ground. The steward and the other martial artists surged forward, quickly subduing the attacker with many hands.

“Liuying!” Jiang Ziyang called out, his face twisted with anxiety, clearly deeply worried about his daughter.

Hurriedly, Su Ye tossed the still-screaming Li Weiqiang aside, letting Jiang Liuying step forward.

“Are you all right, my child? Are you hurt? Let me see!” Jiang Ziyang anxiously scanned her from head to toe, only breathing a heavy sigh of relief when he saw she was unharmed.

Jiang Liuying was a little taken aback. In her memory, her aged father had always maintained a certain distance, almost to the point of indifference. Why was he suddenly so concerned?

She pursed her lips and smiled, “Relax, Dad! Don’t you know who I am? There’s no way anyone could hurt me. I’m fine!”

Meanwhile, Li Weiqiang, lying on the floor, wailed, “Ah, I’m not fine! Save me! I’m really going to die!”

“Good, as long as you’re fine.” Jiang Ziyang, doting, patted Jiang Liuying’s head, casting a glance at Li Weiqiang but saying nothing—anyone who could still scream like that was far from dying.

By now, the hall was crowded with people.

Jiang Ziyang spoke in a deep voice, “All right, the assassin has been captured! Those who are wounded, tend to your injuries. Check if anything is missing from your homes. Everyone, follow Steward Four’s instructions!”

“Yes, Master!” Everyone understood that Jiang Ziyang intended to interrogate the assassin, so none dared linger.

Even Lai Shuqin and Li Weiqiang, still shouting indignantly, were led away by the servants. Soon, fewer than ten people remained in the hall.

“I’ll give you only one chance... Who sent you? What business do you have with the Jiang family?” Jiang Ziyang’s tone turned icy, his deep gaze fixed on the assassin.

“Hmph. You dared harm our Lady Yu. I came for revenge!” the assassin spat out, not resisting, but answering with venom.

Lady Yu?

So, these assassins were from the Yu family?

Jiang Ziyang’s brows furrowed at these words. His eyes fell upon the confiscated razor-sharp dagger, and he lapsed into thought.

Arms folded, Jiang Liuying swept her clear gaze across the room and said crisply, “The Yu family are truly despicable. Lose the challenge, then resort to assassination? Hmph! Too bad you sent a bunch of pigs.”

Su Ye quietly approached Jiang Liuying’s side and said in a low voice, “You’re not from the Yu family! The Yu family and I have blood feuds—everyone in Yang City knows it. Yet you infiltrated before I defeated Yu Zhisha. Would the Yu family have so little faith in her? And you wear masks to hide your identities. The Yu family would want nothing more than to let me know I died at their hands! Did you think we’d be so easily deceived?”

The assassin, feeble as he was, was startled by these words, his body instinctively trembling.

Jiang Liuying, under her breath, pinched Su Ye’s waist and gritted her teeth, “Damn you, Su Ye! Are you saying I’m easy to fool?”

Su Ye grimaced in pain and quickly brushed her hand away.

Jiang Ziyang’s expression remained unchanged as he suddenly spoke in a calm tone, “In all of Yang City, there are few forces both able and daring enough to infiltrate the Jiang residence for murder. Think back three years, and consider this dagger of yours—only the Ou family, who claim descent from Ou Yezi, have the skill to forge such a blade.”

The assassin’s face changed, his lips tightly pressed together in silence.

“You people are far too impatient! Not a single one of your disciples entered the challenge at First High—so this was your backup plan!” Jiang Ziyang paused, then waved his hand. “Take him away. If he has any last words, let him say them!”

Last words?

The assassin’s body shuddered, and at last, unable to restrain himself, he struggled violently and cried, “So what if you’ve beaten Yu Zhisha? Hmph! You’ll all die soon. You’re not worthy of any thundervein!”

Su Ye watched silently as the assassin was dragged away, fury boiling in his heart.

He had finally uncovered the whereabouts of the thundervein, but had never expected the Ou family of Yang City to be involved! This family, always known for arms dealing—how had they become one of those who had stolen his thundervein?

In recent years, the Ou family had enjoyed a stellar reputation.

First the ever-watchful Yu family, and now suddenly the Ou family emerges! With two such formidable clans arrayed against them, how could the Jiang family possibly resist? This was, at its core, Su Ye’s own affair—yet he was powerless to act.

It was a guilt that cut like a knife.

“The Ou family, masters of weapon forging? Fine!” Su Ye had previously believed only the Yu family harbored ill intent, but when he saw that Yu Zhisha bore only a single thundervein, he realized matters were far from simple.

The rest of the proceedings Su Ye left alone. He was utterly exhausted from the day’s events, barely managing a few bites of dinner before returning to his room to bathe and sleep.

As he bathed, he gazed quietly at his reflection in the mirror. Since recovering his cultivation and reforging his body, he was far stronger than before. Even the youthful softness of his face had been transformed by a touch of maturity.

He knew he had grown, but hadn’t expected the price to be so high—and it was far from paid. How much more would he have to sacrifice?

He did not know. But no matter how rough the road ahead, he would never give up.

After bathing, he logged into the “Spiritual Cultivation Hall.” In these three months of arduous practice, he had rarely visited. Only now did he discover his profile had been visited over a million times, with a flood of red-highlighted messages. The acupoint-guidance thread he’d posted had become the hottest topic in the “Apprentice Guides” section.

“So many people?” Su Ye could hardly believe it. It seemed his insights had proven invaluable.

He marveled in secret. The “Yanhuang” technique hidden within the heavenly thunder was truly all-encompassing. He had merely followed its directions to analyze the before-and-after effects of acupoint opening—yet the results were astonishing.

The top comment alone had over a million likes.

“Is Qinglei really just an apprentice guide? Even a five-star guide wouldn’t have this level of insight!”

“Offering a large reward for the real identity of Qinglei Guide! I wish to visit Master Qinglei in person! Please upvote so the master sees me!”

“Master Qinglei, there’s a guides’ gathering on the seventh of this month at Bihui Mingdu in the magic metropolis! I’m Long Zhensheng, a three-star guide, awaiting your arrival!”

Su Ye scrolled for over an hour and still hadn’t finished reading the comments. He simply gave up—most were seeking advice on cultivation bottlenecks.

Little did these people know that the revered “Master Qinglei” they so admired was just a high school student who hadn’t even opened thirty acupoints.

At this thought, a new idea sparked in Su Ye’s mind. His own cultivation followed the rending path of heavenly thunder—by the time he completed it, his acupoints and meridians would likely be as formidable as thunder itself.

But this method suited only him; it was not for others.

“Why not, as the Yanhuang technique suggests, write a set of acupoint-guiding methods suited for Huaxia martial artists? Yes, all current methods are too rigid or too conservative. To achieve greater heights, they’re already on the wrong path from the very first acupoint!”

With that, Su Ye closed his eyes and meditated. A complete method for opening acupoints gradually took shape in his mind.

It was a wholly natural inspiration, as if he understood every acupoint within the human body.

Sensing something profound, Su Ye abandoned his computer, striding into the study. He turned on the lights, lit incense, and ground ink...

Taking up a brush, he swept it swiftly across the rice paper, pouring out all his thoughts.

Each stroke seemed to carry immense weight, as if it might pierce the thin paper:

“In present-day Huaxia, most cultivate the ‘Thousand Severance Heart Method’ and ‘Acupoint Foundation.’ Yet the former is too bitter, the latter mere borrowed wisdom! Acupoint opening is the foundation, yet the most crucial of all! Today, I devise my own acupoint-guiding method for your reference—In ancient times, there were true sages, who lifted the heavens, grasped the yin and yang, breathed in essence, guarded their spirit, united every muscle, thereby outlasting the world, beyond all ending—thus is the birth of the Way...”

Boom—

Just as he finished writing this, Su Ye’s body trembled. His mind cleared, and within him, another acupoint burst open.