Chapter Ten: Qian Is Incredible

“Ow, ow, ow, Wang, could you be a bit gentler?” Song Yue lay on the bed, crying out in pain, while Sister Wang applied medicine with a deeply concerned expression.

“Who in Hangzhou your age could possibly hurt you? Was it some older grandmaster?” she asked angrily, her heart aching. She felt terribly guilty that Song Yue had been injured under her watch.

Song Yue sighed, wincing as he explained, “It’s not what you think. Someone set me up. I was as cautious as can be, but I still fell into their trap. But don’t worry, Wang—I didn’t lose much. If anything, I learned a few tricks, and I’ll be on guard in the future. Besides, I managed to hack fifty thousand from them.”

At this, a hint of pride shone in Song Yue’s eyes.

Wang was speechless.

Fifty thousand?

Was that really enough to catch your eye? Was fifty thousand worth you being hurt like this?

When did the children of the Song family become so cheap?

Her heart ached, and she couldn’t help but feel some resentment towards Song Mingfeng and Qin Qingzhu. They’d left their child in Hangzhou at such a young age. True, he lacked nothing in material needs, but Song Yue never seemed to have much money of his own. Even the few thousand he’d secretly saved as pocket money, she was aware of—and she herself thought little of it.

Now, having been set up and hurt like this over fifty thousand, her anger flared. She wanted to avenge Song Yue, but she didn’t even know who was behind it.

“It’s alright, Wang,” Song Yue said cheerfully, trying to reassure her. “I know my own body—it’ll only be a few days before I’m back to normal. Don’t worry, don’t get angry, or you’ll get wrinkles from frowning! Once I’m recovered and have figured out how to deal with them, I’ll go get my own payback!”

Just then, the doorbell rang. Wang answered, and seeing through the video feed that it was the young man who’d been here before, she frowned, ready to send him away. But after a moment’s thought, she informed Song Yue who was at the door.

“Let him in,” Song Yue said after a brief pause.

Led in by Wang’s unfriendly gaze, Meng Xudong looked somewhat awkwardly at Song Yue, who lay on the bed, weak and barely breathing.

Wang left the room.

Meng Xudong looked at Song Yue and said, “Brother, I’m sorry. I really didn’t know they’d play dirty. Zhang Zixing—he’s a former World Martial Arts Championship gold medalist, but he’s extremely cunning. I just know him; we’re not close, and we’re not in the same circles.”

Song Yue replied weakly, “What’s the use of telling me this now? I’m practically crippled… Ah, it hurts!”

Meng Xudong pulled out a card from his pocket, placed it on the bedside table, and said sincerely, “Even though this has nothing to do with me, I don’t want you to resent me. I’m not exactly the most upright person, but I am a martial artist.”

Catching a glimpse of the card on the table, Song Yue stopped moaning, opened his eyes, and looked at Meng Xudong. “What’s this supposed to mean?”

“I just want to make friends,” Meng Xudong said earnestly. “It’s not much—just three hundred thousand. Buy yourself some good supplements. I promise you, I’ll never set foot in the Cultivation Academy again.”

Song Yue frowned slightly, eyed Meng Xudong, then smacked his lips and asked, “Come on, what else do you want, Little Meng? Be honest.”

Little Meng? I’m not younger than you!

Meng Xudong’s face darkened, but he replied, “I’d like to meet the Master.”

The pain surged again, and Song Yue inhaled sharply, glancing regretfully at the card, but in the end, he shook his head. “Little Meng, I appreciate the gesture. When I make friends, it’s all about whether we click. If we do, we’re brothers; if not, there’s nothing more to say. Take your money back. As for the Master, I can’t help you with that!”

Damn, he’d dug pretty deep. Although Song Yue hadn’t deliberately hidden his connection to the Master, only a handful of people actually knew about it. Especially since the Master had never publicly acknowledged Song Yue as his disciple.

Meng Xudong’s visit, bringing three hundred thousand under the guise of comfort, was really a ploy to use Song Yue as a bridge to the Master.

But Song Yue, though thrifty and always counting his coins, was not interested in this kind of money. If he really wanted to make money, he could easily rake in a fortune fighting underground matches or entering martial arts championships. But Master forbade it, and he himself had no desire for it.

Meng Xudong seemed to have anticipated rejection, for he didn’t look particularly disappointed. He smiled, “You misunderstand. This money is simply a token of concern, nothing more.”

“If there’s nothing else, I’ll be on my way. We’ll meet again.”

He turned to leave, pausing at the door without looking back. “Be careful with Zhang Zixing. He’s petty and not someone easy to deal with.”

Song Yue snorted, “As if I’m easy to deal with. Besides, I’m just as petty.”

Meng Xudong said nothing more and left.

After he’d gone, Wang came in, frowning at the card on the bedside table.

“Find a chance to return it to him,” Song Yue said. “I don’t want his money. It burns my hands.”

Wang’s face softened with a smile, and she nodded.

That afternoon, Wen Rou called. Hearing Song Yue was injured, she insisted on coming to see him.

Not long after, Wen Rou and Qian Qianxue arrived together.

Wang greeted the two young women warmly, inviting them to stay for dinner, and happily went off to prepare. At last, her pig had cabbages brought to his door—a truly good thing! Far more pleasing than that sly Meng Xudong.

“Brother, how did you get hurt?” Wen Rou’s eyes reddened the moment she saw Song Yue in bed, her face pale as she trembled.

Qian Qianxue caught the scent of medicine in the room, frowned slightly, and asked, “Is it serious?”

“Yes, I’m on the verge of death…” Song Yue replied weakly. “I need pretty girls to comfort me.”

At this, Qian Qianxue pushed Wen Rou forward. “Go on, you comfort him!”

Wen Rou was speechless.

Song Yue suddenly sat up in bed, startling both girls so much they nearly screamed.

“Lie down! You’ll tear your stitches!” Wen Rou exclaimed anxiously.

“Relax, I was just teasing you. How could a mighty Martial Sage like me be troubled by a little injury?” Song Yue glanced at them. “I was sparring, and got caught off guard…”

He paused, then turned to Qian Qianxue. “Sister Qianxue, let me ask you something. Among cultivators, is there a way to make someone suddenly suffer a headache?”

Qian Qianxue blinked, then replied, “You mean a spiritual attack?”

“Spiritual attack?” Song Yue frowned. “What level does a cultivator need to be to use that on someone from over ten meters away?”

“I can do it myself,” Qian Qianxue answered. “To be exact, once you reach the seventh level of Qi Cultivation and become a high-level practitioner, you can use such techniques—provided your focus is on cultivating spiritual power.”

“Is there any way to defend against it?” Song Yue asked. He knew high-level cultivators were formidable, but he hadn’t really dealt with such people before.

He’d sparred with Qian Qianxue once, but they’d both used martial techniques, and he’d deliberately held back, feeling constrained and ultimately at a slight disadvantage. He’d found it uninteresting and never sparred with her again.

“For defense, you can either wear a protective artifact to ward off spiritual probing and attacks, or rely on your own strength. Cultivators have their own methods, but as for martial artists… I’m not sure,” Qian Qianxue said honestly.

Wen Rou immediately took a jade pendant from around her neck, blushing as she handed it to Song Yue. “Brother, this is the peace talisman I’ve worn since childhood. It’s a magical artifact and can block spiritual attacks.”

Song Yue waved his hand. “No, no, I can’t take something so personal from you.”

Wen Rou bit her lip, glanced at Qian Qianxue, and said softly, “I’m sure your injury has something to do with me. Even if you don’t say it, I can guess. And with that kind of technique, you’ll have a hard time defending yourself for now. Even if you’re constantly on your guard, it won’t help much against a spiritual attack.”

Qian Qianxue nodded, “Exactly. They can attack you whenever they please. Without a protective artifact, you could suffer a real loss if it happens again.”

Song Yue insisted, “Even so, I can’t accept a girl’s personal belonging. Wen Rou, keep it for now. I won’t need it for a while. If I really do, I’ll borrow it from you.”

Wen Rou looked at him, thought for a moment, and nodded gently. “If you ever need it, promise you’ll let me know.”

Song Yue smiled and nodded.

“By the way, Song Yue, I spoke with the teacher leading the trial. At first he didn’t agree, but after I explained, he’s willing to meet with you to discuss it,” said Qian Qianxue.

“What is it?” Song Yue was puzzled, then remembered and looked at Qian Qianxue in disbelief. “Wait, you actually talked to your teacher?”

“Of course! Since we invited you to protect us, it’s only right to offer compensation,” Qian Qianxue replied matter-of-factly.

Song Yue was speechless, then gave her a thumbs-up. “Boss Qian, you’re amazing!”

Boss Qian?

Qian Qianxue’s eyes widened, her jade-like forehead slowly filling with black lines.

At that moment, Wang pushed the door open and smiled, “Dinner’s ready. Come eat!”

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