The opulent silence of the Leng family estate was shattered long after Leng Xue's departure. Leng Jian paced the vast sitting room like a caged tiger, the splintered remains of his favorite cane clutched in his white-knuckled grip. The image of his daughter's defiant, icy calm—a mirror of his own, yet turned against him—fueled a rage so profound it felt like a physical heat in his veins.
"A nobody! She dismisses generations of lineage for some… some *capable* street rat!" he seethed, the word tasting like ash in his mouth.
Wei Fang, having recovered from her initial shock, now saw an opportunity. "Jian, be reasonable. Xue'er is headstrong, but she is not a fool. This man, whoever he is, must have *something* to offer. Perhaps he is a tech genius, a founder of some promising startup we haven't heard of. We should investigate properly, not just send thugs." Her mind was already calculating potential stock options and board seats.
"Investigate?!" Leng Jian whirled on her, his eyes blazing. "This is not a merger! This is an insult! He has sullied my daughter's reputation without so much as presenting himself at my door! This requires a message, not a financial audit! A message written in broken bones!"
He stormed over to an antique desk and yanked open a drawer, pulling out a sleek, encrypted phone. He scrolled through his contacts, his finger hovering over a number listed only as "Grey Wolf." These were men he used for… industrial disputes. They were crude, effective, and asked no questions as long as the payment was substantial.
The line connected after two rings. A gruff, wary voice answered. "Yeah?"
"I have a job," Leng Jian's voice was low and venomous. "A young man. I want his legs broken. I want him delivered a warning to stay away from what doesn't belong to him. Permanently."
There was a pause on the other end. The Grey Wolf leader was still nursing his own shattered wrist and the terror of his encounter in the alley. "Description?" he asked, his tone noticeably more cautious than usual.
"I don't have one yet," Leng Jian snapped. "But you will. I am having him investigated. You will receive a file. His name, his address, his photograph. I want it done the moment you have the information. Make an example of him."
He ended the call without waiting for a reply and immediately dialed another number—a private investigator known for his discretion and efficiency.
"I need you to find a man," Leng Jian growled into the phone. "He is involved with my daughter, Leng Xue. I want everything. Name, occupation, address, financial records, family history, every dirty secret you can dig up. Spare no expense. Report only to me."
He slammed the phone down, his chest heaving. The web was being woven, a web of mortal vengeance aimed at a target that viewed such things as little more than gnats buzzing at a dragon's scale.
***
Across the city, the atmosphere was a world apart. In the small, warmly lit apartment above the dusty antique shop, the air was filled with the fragrant steam of home-cooked dishes. Wang Lihua had, against her better financial judgment, prepared an extravagant meal. There was a whole steamed fish, its flesh tender and flavored with ginger and scallions, a rich braised pork belly that glistened under the light, stir-fried vegetables vibrant and crisp, and a delicate egg drop soup. It was a feast far beyond her usual budget, a tangible expression of her gratitude and her grandfather's insistence.
The old man, Grandpa Wang, was beaming, his frailty seeming to recede in the warmth of the occasion. His color was better, his cough less frequent—a testament to the lingering effects of Su Yang's subtle ministrations and the low-grade vitality herb.
"A promotion! Both of you!" he exclaimed, raising a cup of tea with a trembling hand. "We must celebrate! My Lihua, a Senior Analyst! And Young Su, a Department Manager! So young, yet so capable!" His eyes, milky with cataracts, shone with genuine pride.
Su Yang accepted the praise with a slight nod, eating the food with a measured appreciation. The flavors, created with sincere effort, were a different kind of nourishment than the spirit herbs in his ring, but valuable in their own way.
During the meal, as Lihua excused herself to the tiny kitchen to bring out a plate of fresh fruit, Grandpa Wang saw his chance. With a speed that belied his usual frailty, he fumbled under his chair and produced a small, clay flask of cheap rice wine. He uncorked it and took two quick, furtive gulps, sighing in satisfaction as the liquid fire warmed his chest.
He was just corking it again, a guilty smile on his face, when Lihua returned, holding a plate of sliced watermelon.
Her eyes narrowed instantly. "*Grandpa!*" The word was a whip-crack of disappointment. "You promised! The doctor said no alcohol! It interacts with your medicine!"
The old man jumped, nearly dropping the flask. He looked like a child caught with his hand in the candy jar. "Aiyah, Lihua… just a sip… for celebration…" he mumbled, his words already beginning to slur slightly.
"No 'just a sip'!" she scolded, snatching the flask away. "You never stop at one sip! You're going to make yourself sick again!"
The cheap wine, combined with his excitement and the scolding, pushed the old man from tipsy to maudlin. He looked from his stern granddaughter to the calm, powerful young man beside her. A foolish, alcohol-fueled idea bloomed in his mind.
He pointed a wavering finger at Lihua. "You see? You see how she is? Always scolding! Always ordering me around! A fierce little tigress!" He then turned his bleary gaze to Su Yang, leaning in conspiratorially.
"Young man… you are a good man. Strong. Capable." He dropped his voice to a loud, stage whisper that Lihua could hear perfectly. "You should… you should take her away. Yes! Take this tigress to your own den! Confine her there! Keep her! Then this old man can finally drink his wine in peace!"
The room fell into a stunned silence.
The hidden meaning behind the drunken request was as subtle as a brick. *Take her. Have her. Marry her.*
Su Yang, who had faced down Immortal Kings and primordial beasts, found himself momentarily nonplussed. His lips pressed into a stiff, neutral line, the only outward sign of his internal surprise.
For Wang Lihua, it was a cataclysm of embarrassment and fury. Her face flushed a deep, mortified crimson, heating up so fast she felt dizzy. Her head throbbed, the blood pounding in her temples as if her skull might indeed swell and erupt like a volcano.
"GRANDPA!" she shrieked, her voice reaching an octave she didn't know she possessed. She looked as if she wanted to simultaneously vanish into the floor and strangle the old man with his own scarf. She couldn't even bring herself to look at Su Yang, her entire being consumed by a wave of sheer, unadulterated humiliation.
The old man, startled by her reaction, seemed to realize he had gone too far. He shrunk back in his chair, suddenly looking every bit his age and then some. "I… I just meant… she needs a good man…" he mumbled feebly before a fit of coughing overtook him, this one genuine and rattling.
The celebratory atmosphere was utterly, irrevocably shattered. The rest of the evening passed in a painfully awkward haze. Su Yang made his excuses shortly after, leaving behind a flustered, furious Lihua and a chastened, coughing old man.
As he stepped out into the cool night air, Su Yang contemplated the intricate, often absurd, web of mortal concerns he was now entangled in. On one side, a powerful family patriarch was dispatching investigators and thugs to break his legs over a daughter who was his celestial consort. On the other, a well-meaning old man was trying to marry off his granddaughter to him over a forbidden flask of rice wine.
He, the Yin-Yang Envoy, heir to the Primordial Emperor, stood at the center of it all. The path to becoming a True God, it seemed, was paved with corporate politics, familial drama, and the baffling complexities of human relationships. The cultivation was the easy part.