Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Apprentice Guide

“Master Jiang! It’s been a while!”
Inside the grand Jiang family residence, Su Ye looked at the dignified elder before him and respectfully offered the proper greeting of a junior.
The man standing before him, named Jiang Ziyang, was in his seventies. He cut an imposing figure—his eyes clouded but piercing, his face etched with scars that spoke of a life weathered by countless trials.
In truth, Su Ye held great admiration for him. Jiang Ziyang had known Su Ye’s grandfather since their youth and had forged a marriage pact between their grandchildren.
But over the decades, much had changed; the world was unrecognizable, and years of losing his sons had turned the once-proud Jiang Ziyang into the man he was today, content to live humbly in Yang City.
It was thanks to his protection that Su Ye had survived safely these past few years.
When Jiang Ziyang saw Su Ye, his dull eyes suddenly shone with vigor. After a moment, he nodded approvingly, “Good! Three years, and you’ve finally found your resolve. I’m pleased! I hear you intend to challenge Yu Zhisha, the number one prodigy of Yang City, in the upcoming graduation tournament?”
“Yes,” Su Ye replied in a steady voice.
“Excellent! A true man knows when to act and when to hold back. Since you’re determined, you have my full support. For the next three months, I’ll inform the school—you’ll stay home and focus on your training,” Jiang Ziyang praised, a hint of doting warmth in his eyes.
Jiang Liuying, standing to the side, interjected, “Hey, Dad, I want time off too. Let me stay home and train with him.”
“Nonsense! What’s a girl like you doing with all this training? Learn some self-defense and that’s enough. You’d be better off spending time with Uncle Zhong, learning how to manage the family business,” Jiang Ziyang snapped, his face stern.
Jiang Liuying lowered her head, a rare look of grievance on her face. Usually so willful, she made no retort this time. She knew well that her six elder brothers had all died tragic deaths, though their father had never told her the reason.
She could guess, though—it must have had something to do with martial arts, perhaps even vengeance.
So, from childhood, she had been forbidden from rigorous training. Yet she forced herself to be as tough as any boy—never crying, never complaining—so that her personality became as bold and careless as ever.
“I understand,” she replied, and went upstairs to bed.
With Jiang Ziyang’s full support, Su Ye was naturally overjoyed. Most importantly, now that Jiang Ziyang had returned, the Yu family would have to think twice before moving against the Jiangs.
For now, all he needed to do was focus on training and defeating Yu Zhisha!
He practiced in the family’s martial hall until midnight, pushing himself until he was out of breath. Only then did he return to his room to shower and rest.
No sooner had he lain down than he remembered the question he’d posted earlier on the Guiding Path website.
He wondered how things were going.
He immediately called Jiang Liuying. “Hey, Liuying, bring your laptop downstairs. I’ve got something good for you.”

“Tch, what good thing could you possibly have?” Jiang Liuying’s disdainful voice came through the phone—she sounded as if she were still eating.
“Really, it’s a Green Thunder Marrow-Washing Pill. Want it?” Su Ye teased, then hung up.
Not even thirty seconds later, footsteps sounded outside his door.
The lock clicked, and in burst a lively, pretty figure—laptop in one hand, key in the other.
“Hold on,” Su Ye stared in surprise at the key in her hand. “How do you have my room key?”
“Oh, I copied it last time I ‘borrowed’ yours… But never mind that, do you really have the Green Thunder Marrow-Washing Pill? Did the Ning family give it to you? You didn’t sell yourself, did you?” She grinned mischievously, her big eyes darting about.
Su Ye ground his teeth, tossing a small bottle in his hand. “This is a treasure for unlocking acupoints—if you promise never to cut my internet cable again, and we call it even after what happened last time… Ahem, I’ll give you one.”
“You mean the time you forcibly kissed me?” Instantly, Jiang Liuying’s smile vanished, her tone icy. “Hmph, you dare bring that up!”
“Come on, we’re negotiating here—just like in war, you don’t kill the messenger, right? Two pills—think about it, you could unlock two acupoints!” Su Ye quickly backed away. For three years, with no cultivation to protect him, he’d been tormented by this little devil.
“Let me see the goods first! And don’t worry, I’m trustworthy—just two, not a single one more,” she promised, her smile as bright as a crescent moon, lovely as an angel.
“Fine, only two!” Su Ye handed over the bottle.
Jiang Liuying opened it and immediately her eyes went wide; she drew a deep breath at the rich medicinal scent. Shocked, she looked up at Su Ye, and after a long pause said,
“You didn’t steal this from the Ning family, did you? There are ten pills here—that’s a lot… How about this: kiss me eight more times, and I’ll take the rest?”
“In your dreams! I risked my life to get those—hey, what are you doing? Give that back! You’re just pocketing my pills right in front of me?” Su Ye was at a loss; this girl was too ruthless.
Jiang Liuying promptly tucked the bottle into her cleavage, pressing it between her pajamas. While hiding it, she declared,
“Don’t come any closer. I’m your mother-in-law, aren’t I? What’s wrong with a son-in-law giving me a little something? Do you ever bring gifts for the holidays?”
“You have some nerve—your daughter is still just an egg cell! What about your promise? Just now you said you’d only take two!” Su Ye was fuming. While the ten pills weren’t of much use to him now, they were still better than nothing.
“Promise? Ha! Outdated customs!” Jiang Liuying pointed to the laptop, then dashed for the door. “Enjoy your computer, I’m off!”
Before her words faded, she was gone.
There was nothing Su Ye could do. If Jiang Ziyang hadn’t returned, he might have tried some tricks, but now he didn’t dare.
After locking the door, Su Ye calmed himself and logged into the “Spirit Cultivation Hall” website.

“Hmm? My post has been viewed by tens of thousands—looks like it was well received.”
Su Ye discovered that his analysis of thunder techniques had already been read by many martial artists, with over a hundred followers becoming his fans.
Though many people cultivated and opened acupoints in this era, it was still a modern society—websites like Spirit Cultivation Hall drew the most attention, and the entire site had grown into something of a commercial empire.
“Who’s messaged me?” Su Ye paused, noticing a message from the website: You have fulfilled the requirements to become a Trainee Guide. Please complete your information to begin your journey.
“What great news! Now I can view even more insights from Guides—one day, I’ll visit the capitals and see their handwritten books myself!”
Without delay, Su Ye filled in his information, but hesitated at the nickname field.
What should he use?
After some thought, he recalled the Green Thunder Marrow-Washing Pill that Jiang Liuying had just taken.
“Let’s go with… Green Thunder.”
Now that he was a Trainee Guide, he could answer more questions and access more insights.
But strangely, as he read, he found many of the so-called insights were wrong.
Once, he wouldn’t have noticed. But ever since he glimpsed the Heaven-Shaking Stele in that thunderstorm and the words “Yan Huang,” he realized that martial arts, though myriad, all share the same root.
“Utter nonsense! With this method, you might excel through the first thirty-six acupoints, but from the thirty-seventh onward, your points will shatter and you’ll be stuck.”
“Preposterous! This technique suits only male martial artists—if a woman trains this way, her yang energy will surge, at best growing facial hair and an Adam’s apple, at worst losing all cultivation and having to start over.”
Su Ye didn’t mince words; he wrote out everything he thought.
He worked late into the night before finally sleeping.
Su Ye was neither lazy nor privileged; at dawn he forced himself out of bed despite the temptation to linger.
His three months of rigorous training had truly begun…