Chapter Nineteen: The Old Master's Speculation

Xiao Family Old Residence

Today, Xiao Fusheng broke with his usual routine—not fishing at the back lake, but tending the vegetable garden in the rear yard. Nearly seventy, his hair snowy white, Xiao Fusheng methodically watered the vegetables with a sprinkler, again and again. Born into a prominent family, he never adopted the habits of the older generation—those Qing dynasty relics who bred falcons and teased songbirds. Instead, he preferred cultivating ordinary vegetables: cabbages and radishes, nothing exotic.

As for why Xiao Fusheng was so persistent, perhaps only the ancestor would understand. It likely stemmed from the privations of the 1950s—the hunger that marked those years. To those who’ve never endured such hardship, it’s hard to fathom the stubbornness of the older generation.

Under Xiao Fusheng’s meticulous care, the garden vegetables thrived, their vibrant green leaves shimmering. Only after finishing his chores did the old man exit the garden, unhurried. Wang Qiyi hurried forward to assist him. Xiao Fusheng chuckled, chiding, “I’m not so old that I can’t walk on my own,” yet accepted Wang Qiyi’s support.

“Tell me about the surveillance on that troublemaker these past days.”

Wang Qiyi nodded respectfully, a far cry from his former demeanor when watching Xiao Cheng. He recounted the details of monitoring Xiao Cheng over the last few days, but in truth, nothing noteworthy had occurred. Xiao Cheng remained inside the villa, never venturing out, nor behaving out of line.

“Oh? So you’re saying the brat has stayed home all this time, not causing trouble?”

For most people, staying home for a few days is unremarkable. But Xiao Cheng—calmly remaining at home for an entire week—was anything but normal. Since when had Xiao Cheng ever been quiet? Moreover, by calculation, he hadn’t been involved with any woman for over twenty days. Had he changed his nature? Or was something else captivating his interest?

Xiao Fusheng was puzzled, though his face betrayed nothing. He nodded slightly and asked indifferently, “How is his relationship with Yujia lately?”

“Last night, I saw Fang Yujia coming out after her bath; the young master was waiting by the door. I don’t know what they said, but Fang Yujia left blushing.”

Wang Qiyi told it objectively, avoiding embellishment, though he instinctively withheld some details. In fact, Xiao Cheng had not been waiting at the door, merely happened upon Fang Yujia as she emerged. There was no need to be too explicit—such candor could give him away. The old man was sharp.

Xiao Fusheng’s expression soured. He knew Fang Yujia’s temperament well; she rarely showed such girlish behavior. Had the brat done something to her? Otherwise, why would he stay in so long, not seeking out women?

If Xiao Cheng knew the old man’s suspicions, he would feel deeply wronged: refraining from mischief with women, yet still considered guilty. Heaven knows, he hadn’t done anything inappropriate to his sister-in-law.

Xiao Fusheng cursed inwardly, “What a troublemaker!”

If things were as he suspected, it would be a grave offense—under clan law, punishable by castration. He simply couldn’t understand why his mother arranged for Fang Yujia to care for Xiao Cheng; everyone knew Xiao Cheng’s reckless nature.

He then recalled what Xiao Guowei had told him a few days earlier—Xiao Cheng had even beaten the fourth son. This was intolerable; the brat was becoming more unruly and needed discipline. But this could wait. Next month was his mother’s birthday; until then, he mustn’t upset her. After the celebration, he would settle all accounts with Xiao Cheng.

His suspicions about Xiao Cheng and Fang Yujia he kept to himself, not sharing them with Wang Qiyi.

Xiao Fusheng continued, “Anything else?”

Wang Qiyi nodded. “Last night, the young master discovered me and asked me to tell you not to bother him anymore.”

“He discovered you? Is that possible?” Xiao Fusheng was incredulous. He knew Wang Qiyi’s abilities well; he’d never been caught before.

Wang Qiyi recounted the events of the previous night, watching Xiao Fusheng closely, hoping for an explanation.

After listening, Xiao Fusheng’s brow furrowed tightly, astonished. How could Xiao Cheng possess such skill? Sneaking into the villa was one thing—there were many ways to avoid detection—but to approach Wang Qiyi without a sound, nearly killing him, what kind of ability was that?

Even he, a master at the peak of innate strength, would hardly find it so easy.

Impossible. Xiao Cheng couldn’t possibly have such power.

If anyone knew Xiao Cheng best, it was Xiao Fusheng. He’d watched him grow up, knew his temperament intimately, and understood his cultivation level precisely. How could he have reached such an extraordinary level in so short a time?

If not through cultivation, how did he get so close to Wang Qiyi? Unless he possessed a technique or item to conceal his presence. At this thought, Xiao Fusheng’s expression eased.

“I understand. You may go,” Xiao Fusheng said, his face returning to its calm, inscrutable look as he waved Wang Qiyi away.

Wang Qiyi had observed the old man’s reactions—initial surprise, then acceptance—suggesting he had guessed the reason Xiao Cheng could approach undetected. Though curious, Wang Qiyi knew it wasn’t his place to ask.

After Wang Qiyi left, Xiao Fusheng sat upon a stone, his face reflecting loneliness and self-mockery.

He guessed that the ancestor—his own mother—had gifted Xiao Cheng a certain jade, a family heirloom passed down since the Zhengde era. That jade was an extraordinary artifact, capable of concealing one’s aura and aiding cultivation—a treasure without equal.

Since Xiao Cheng’s cultivation was low, only the jade could explain how he approached a third-tier innate master unnoticed.

His mother had never been willing to give him the jade, yet she bestowed it on the family’s most useless member, Xiao Cheng. A tinge of jealousy crept into his heart. Was he, her own son, less important than her great-grandson?

He could never fathom his mother’s mindset—why she so indulged Xiao Cheng. If Xiao Cheng were the family’s sole heir, he might understand, but he didn’t believe it. Even when her other grandsons were around, she favored Xiao Cheng above all, never showing kindness to the others. Even after Xiao Cheng committed every vice—robbery, debauchery—her attitude never changed.

Why was it so?

………………

For several days, Xiao Cheng hadn’t left the villa, devoting himself to cultivation, not wasting a single moment.

Having just advanced to the fifth tier, he needed to stabilize his power and lay the foundation for the sixth. The leap from fifth to sixth was a formidable hurdle—not as straightforward as the earlier tiers, which required only accumulation of inner energy. Advancement to the sixth demanded a catalyst.

Such catalysts were mysterious—a small event could trigger it, or perhaps something extraordinary. It was not something one could control. In his past life, his ascent had been smooth, fueled by a burning resentment.

Since he couldn’t advance immediately, Xiao Cheng decided not to stay idle in the villa. In truth, it was never the best place for cultivation. The Immortal Sutra allowed him to absorb the essence of plants; training in a forest would be far more effective.

Yet he chose not to, since the foundation stage didn’t require much spiritual energy, and he didn’t want to advance too quickly. He needed to solidify his physical base to ensure a long future on the path of cultivation.

Around eight in the evening, as nightlife in Shanghai was just beginning, Xiao Cheng drove his yellow Lamborghini to a certain bun shop.

The shop had a peculiar name: The Never-Buried Bun Shop. The name alone was unsettling, so it had few customers. Every patron who entered never came out, as if vanishing.

But Xiao Cheng knew: the bun shop was merely a front, the entrance to a black market. One could enter here but not exit—the exit was elsewhere. This black market was the largest in Shanghai; almost anything imaginable could be bought here. If it couldn’t be found, one could place a request—so long as the price was right, nothing was truly unattainable.

Today, Xiao Cheng came to procure materials to forge a weapon.

Since his rebirth, he hadn’t possessed a suitable weapon, leaving him feeling empty. The weapon he intended to craft was unique, requiring materials not easily found.

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