Chapter Ninety-Nine: A Gust of Wind to Send Him Soaring into the Blue Sky!

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Shen Boyu was leisurely reclining in a rattan chair, listening to a gentle tune while puffing on his water pipe, when the steward Chang Biao hurried over and whispered, “Second Master, there’s something fresh happening. Not sure if you want to hear it.”

Shen Boyu shot him a dissatisfied glance, pulling the pipe from his mouth. “At our age, every new thing we hear is like adding another day to our lives—quite a bargain. Just get on with it. Why ask if I want to hear it?”

“I was just afraid of disturbing your mood,” Chang Biao chuckled. “You asked me to keep an eye on that rustic boy, so I’ve been watching him closely. Hey, guess what? Something interesting happened with him today.”

“Got into another fight?” Shen Boyu asked.

“No fight,” Chang Biao replied. “He managed to force someone to drop out of school again.”

The words “drop out” brought a trace of unease across Shen Boyu’s face.

If it weren’t for Chang Biao’s long service and deep understanding of his master’s temperament, he probably wouldn’t have noticed the subtle shift in expression.

Clearly, this matter was still a thorn in his side.

Though he had used a luminous pearl to send the princess and that boy away, how could the honor of the Shen family, trampled and scorned, be easily reclaimed?

The blame lay heavily on Shang Xiulin’s shoulders for his detestable act of uploading that virtual battle video onto the school’s intranet, where all students could watch it for a fee—and every view earned that boy one star coin.

The Shen family didn’t care much about the money, but each view was a fresh humiliation.

Every additional viewer was another person shaming the Shen family.

They had watched the video too, but lacked the courage to watch it a second time.

Honestly, Shen Qingping’s performance wasn’t terrible, but...

That boy was just too cunning.

A sly and fearless person like him was truly hard to handle.

Unless you had absolute power to crush him completely.

“Oh? That’s strange. If there was no fight, how did he force someone to drop out?” Shen Boyu asked with interest.

He assumed the opponent’s method was like Shen Qingping’s—suppressing Tang Fei with superior skill.

But this wasn’t an exam; was there really such a strict standard?

Chang Biao approached with a tablet computer, smiling, and said, “Take a look at this. Once you see it, you’ll get it. That boy is simply despicable.”

Shen Boyu waved his hand, signaling the young girl playing the zither and singing to leave.

Then he took the tablet, pressed play, and watched with great interest.

The video was short; Shen Boyu finished quickly.

He handed the tablet back to Chang Biao with a smile. “That boy is quite something. No burdens, shameless, doing and saying whatever he wants. He’s like a porcupine—normal people wouldn’t know how to handle someone like that.”

“Second Master, are you praising him?”

“Of course I am. Don’t underestimate ‘no burdens’ and ‘shameless.’ In this life, how many can truly live only for themselves? Old Chang, can you live just for yourself?”

“I can’t live only for myself, but I can die for the Shen family,” Chang Biao said with a smile.

Shen Boyu nodded. Others might not believe such words, but he trusted Chang Biao.

“You can’t, and neither can I. Take me, for instance—I guard this whole family, pretending to be upright, playing dumb when I understand, or pretending to understand when I’m dumb. Polite in front of others, ruthless behind their backs. Isn’t it exhausting?”

“Exhausting. But there’s no choice. You can’t let people see everything clearly, but you can’t let them see nothing. If they see clearly, someone will harm you; if too vague, someone will fear you. So you live half-clear, half-vague. And what happens? You become an old monster like me.”

“Second Master, you have great wisdom,” Chang Biao comforted him. “But the world is unpredictable and hearts are treacherous. Sometimes you have to endure a bit and find the most comfortable way to live.”

“Exactly, the world is unpredictable, hearts are treacherous,” Shen Boyu sighed softly. “That boy understands this, so he made his choice.”

“Shameless? Seeking safety?”

“Think about it—if he accepted Lu Yang’s challenge, what would he gain by winning? And what would happen if he lost?”

“If he wins, his fame grows, and challengers multiply. If he loses, all the reputation he built is wiped out, and he becomes a stepping stone for Lu Yang.”

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“So he decisively refused,” Shen Boyu said. “Refusing is one thing, but I didn’t expect him to force Lu Yang into such a predicament without even fighting. That’s no ordinary feat.”

Suddenly, Shen Boyu rose from his chair and looked at Chang Biao. “What do you mean by ‘afraid of disturbing my mood’? Does this have to do with the Shen family?”

After a pause, Shen Boyu shouted angrily, “It’s Shen Anyuan, isn’t it?”

“Second Master, don’t be angry. It’s not worth harming your health over such trivial matters,” Chang Biao tried to soothe him.

“I don’t want to be angry either, but they keep doing stupid things. How can I not be?” Shen Boyu looked utterly disheartened. “Call Shen Anyuan over.”

“Yes, Second Master.” Chang Biao responded and went to make the call.

Soon, Shen Anyuan’s flying car landed in the Shen family compound.

Shen Anyuan hurried inside and looked at Shen Boyu. “Second Master, you called me?”

Seated in his grand chair, Shen Boyu regarded him. “Anyuan, are you busy? Did I interrupt your work?”

“No, no,” Shen Anyuan smiled. “Whenever Second Uncle calls, I’m always available. Ready to come when summoned.”

“That’s good.” Shen Boyu nodded. “I wanted to show you something interesting. Heard there’s a video that’s gone viral recently.”

He glanced at Chang Biao. “Old Chang, show Anyuan.”

“Yes, Second Master.” Chang Biao handed over the video.

After watching, Shen Anyuan returned the screen to Chang Biao and looked sincerely at Shen Boyu. “Second Uncle, I’m the one behind this. Lu Yang is my man.”

“Tell me, what was your original plan?” Shen Boyu asked.

“The Empire’s top military academy has a tradition of challenging strong opponents, especially the martial arts department. Lu Yang is a top-tier Qi wielder, close to Tang Fei’s level, but his kung fu hides deadly moves. If Tang Fei is unprepared, Lu Yang could kill him in one strike.”

“But Tang Fei refused your challenge?” Shen Boyu grinned, amused, as if watching a show.

“Shameless scoundrel,” Shen Anyuan cursed.

He had considered every possibility and prepared thoroughly.

If Tang Fei accepted, Lu Yang’s killer skills could defeat or even kill him in the official challenge.

If Tang Fei refused, his reputation as the ‘Light of the Old Land’ would collapse.

And if Tang Fei refused today, Lu Ming would be sent tomorrow.

If tomorrow was refused, then the day after, and so on.

Day after day, year after year.

If you keep refusing, people’s opinion of you changes—they think you cowardly, spineless, and you lose all respect at school.

Moreover, martial artists fear having their resolve broken.

If someone challenges you every day, that becomes your inner demon.

Without slaying the inner demon, how can you advance in skill and rank?

He never expected Tang Fei to handle it this way.

Using the rules themselves to defeat Lu Yang.

“I didn’t even make a move, yet you fall?”

“What if Lu Yang isn’t his match?”

“Even if he failed, it doesn’t matter. Students spar, but he wouldn’t kill Lu Yang, would he?”

Shen Anyuan’s expression darkened. “Besides, if he killed him, so be it. Lu Yang is nothing but a peripheral of the Shen family. Raised for so many years, it’s time he stood up and served us.”

“Aren’t you afraid he’ll betray the Shen family?”

“Betray? His current success is all thanks to the Shen family’s support. Without us, where would he get those secret martial arts manuals or afford those expensive tonics?”

“Having eaten from our hand, it’s not easy to spit it out. He’d rather die than speak ill of the Shen family.”

“So, you’re out for revenge? Planning to use the challenge as a pretext to kill him?” Shen Boyu smiled calmly.

“Yes,” Shen Anyuan didn’t deny it. “I do want to kill him.”

“Isn’t that a bit too hasty?”

“Hasty?” Shen Anyuan looked at Shen Boyu gravely. “Second Uncle, Qingping has already been sent with the last batch of death row prisoners to Ghost Mountain, where he’s fighting beasts and could die any moment.”

“That Tang Fei, every extra day he lives tortures me, keeping me awake all night.”

“I want to avenge Qingping. I wish he were dead now. I want to eat his flesh raw and drink his blood.”

Shen Boyu sighed softly. “This incident, did it start because of Qingping?”

“Yes, but they shouldn’t have humiliated Qingping like that.”

“What you hate most isn’t Tang Fei, it’s Shang Xiulin. But since you can’t go after Shang Xiulin, you’ve shifted your hatred onto Tang Fei, right?”

“Second Uncle…”

“Tell me, is it true?”

“Yes,” Shen Anyuan admitted quietly.

He could deceive others, but not Shen Boyu, nor himself.

He hated Tang Fei, but hated Shang Xiulin more—hated him for putting his son on a public platform, subjecting him to mockery and abuse.

That was his son, fighting for his life on Ghost Mountain, always at risk of losing his head to savages.

Yet those lowlifes used the internet to attack and humiliate him across every channel.

No father could tolerate that.

So, he wanted to kill Tang Fei.

If Tang Fei died at the hands of a challenger, would his hatred lessen?

Would those who praised Tang Fei as the ‘Light of the Old Land’ quiet down?

Or would a defeated Tang Fei become an object of scorn and ridicule?

After all, most people admire strength: the strong are right, and the wealthy are noble.

Does money wipe away all past sins?

“Strike at the snake’s vital point,” Shen Boyu scolded, disappointed yet firm. “If you’re going to do this, do it thoroughly. Encircle him from all sides, a net so tight there’s no escape. His only path will be death.”

“Don’t act without confidence. It’s better to endure than to act rashly. Everyone makes mistakes, and any mistake is a chance for you to strike.”

“You made the same mistake as your son.”

Shen Anyuan knelt respectfully, voice low: “Second Uncle, I’m sorry.”

“What good is sorry? In my life, that’s the phrase I fear most—because once said, it means you’ve wronged me and expect forgiveness.”

“Enough, enough. It’s come to this; no use saying more,” Shen Boyu sighed deeply. “If we can’t do it, let others try.”

“Blow a gust of wind to send him soaring.”

“Yes, Second Uncle.”

By the way… can you blow a gust of wind for me too? Old Liu wants to soar as well.

(The End of this Chapter)

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