“Indeed, what happened back then did great harm to our Xu family,” Xu Jiren nodded in agreement.

“You men are truly pathetic,” a woman sneered. “Since when does the strength of the Xu family rely on a woman’s marriage alliance? Of course, I don’t like Xu Ying and think she should disappear, but I’m also a Xu woman. If the time comes when I need to make sacrifices, I’d do the same as her. But I wouldn’t be as foolish—I’d still take what’s mine.”

“Well said,” a few other women chimed in, clearly united: “Let me tell you, nowadays men and women are equal. When the old man kicks the bucket, we’re not letting a single cent slip past us.”

“You’re all pretty bold,” Xu Jiahong’s gaze was sharp, his thoughts unreadable. “But everything depends on the old man’s will. If he leaves everything to Xu Ying to manage and distribute, we won’t even get the scraps.”

“No way that’s happening,” Xu Jiahao said carelessly. “The old man is a die-hard s9xist. If he leaves her anything at all, that’s already a huge favor. But speaking of which, what do we do now? Big Brother, this needs your decision. It’d be best if Xu Ying left voluntarily and never came back. That way, the old man would be disappointed in her and might change his will. The only reason he values her is her usefulness—take that away, and he’s got no reason to give her anything.”

“Jiahao, you’re not so useless after all,” Xu Jiren mused. “I thought you were just a playboy who drinks, gambles, and chases influencers. But this plan to cut her off at the root isn’t bad. So how do we make her leave? She’s still our elder. If we go too far, it’ll bring shame to the family, and if the old man finds out, we’re all screwed. Worse, she might flip the narrative and put us on the back foot.”

“Hold on…” Xu Jiahong said, “Didn’t that b!tch Xu Ying bring along a little b*stard? What if we mess with the kid and get him to do something outrageous—cause a big scene? Today’s the ancestor worship and tomb site selection, everyone in the clan is here. If he screws up, no one will save him.”

“Not impossible,” Xu Jiren nodded. “But Jiahong, isn’t it a bit vicious to use such a plan on a kid?”

“Can’t be a real man without a bit of poison. Besides, Big Brother, don’t act so righteous. You’ve pulled off nastier schemes than this.” Xu Jiahong couldn’t stand Xu Jiren’s fake virtue—clean on the surface, dirty underneath.

“Well, he doesn’t carry the Xu name, but technically he’s of our generation,” Xu Jiren ignored the jab and started giving orders. “Bring the brat over. Let’s have a look.”

“I heard Xu Ying’s husband is just a security guard, and not well off,” said a woman with garishly painted lips. “Wave some money at the kid and he’d probably sell his whole family.”

While they were talking, Xu Jiren tapped his watch, and the camo-clad man from before came in again.

Xu Jiren whispered a few instructions. The man nodded and left.

“By the way, have you all visited Teacher Huang yet?” Xu Jiren suddenly remembered something. “We all studied martial arts under him as kids, formally apprenticed too. Now that you’ve returned to the ancestral home, you should bring him gifts to show respect. Otherwise, if the old man finds out, he’ll blow a fuse, say you were poorly raised and disrespectful. Today’s an important day—ancestor worship and feng shui consultation—so we can’t afford any slip-ups in decorum.”

“D*mn, I forgot!” one person’s face changed.

“No worries, just have someone handle it. There’s still time,” said Xu Jiren.

Meanwhile, Su Jie had finished his meal and, after a short walk, went over to chat with Huang Dingyi in the neighboring courtyard.

This time, their conversation wasn’t about mobile apps but martial arts.

Huang Dingyi was intrigued by Su Jie’s Hoe Strike technique. After watching him perform it twice, he couldn’t help but marvel: “It’s true what they say—Shaolin is the source of all martial arts. The strongest Shaolin technique is Heart Intent Fist. I once saw someone who had mastered it; they could kill like mowing grass. Though it seems simple, with just one rising-and-falling move repeated, it contains immense inner strength, intention, and Chan meditation. But sadly, 99% of people brush it off and switch to flashier techniques.”

“Exactly. I didn’t get it at first either and thought it was useless. But once I understood it, the more I practiced, the more amazing it felt,” Su Jie said. “All techniques can be integrated into it, generating endless variations.”

“Of course. That’s why Shaolin treated it as an untransmittable secret,” Huang Dingyi said. “Frankly, Shaolin’s techniques have all been deconstructed by now. Most of it is available online—there are no more secrets. After the Thirteen Staff Monks rescued the Tang Emperor, Shaolin was rewarded and prospered, training warriors through every dynasty. In the Yuan Dynasty, Master Xue Ting Fuyu became the imperial tutor to Kublai Khan and openly promoted martial arts. Later, Masters Jue Yuan and Bai Yufeng compiled all martial arts manuals, creating the Five Animal Styles—early internal arts. Southern styles like Hung Gar came from Southern Shaolin. Wing Chun was developed by Abbess Ng Mui based on Shaolin’s Snake and Crane techniques. So at the end of the day, we’re all from the same lineage.”

“True martial arts require people to live and train together, day in and day out. With time, the best techniques naturally emerge,” Su Jie said. “Just like in modern scientific research.”

“I’m really curious—you’re only seventeen. How did you train your skills? Unless you were practicing from the womb, how can you be so advanced?” Huang Dingyi still looked doubtful. “I’ve been to Minglun Martial Arts Academy. Their training is indeed better than other schools, but not enough to produce someone like you.”

“Teacher Huang, have you heard of the Typhon Training Camp?” Su Jie asked cautiously. He could tell that Huang Dingyi wasn’t some ornamental instructor—he’d clearly seen real combat.

“You’re from Typhon?” Huang Dingyi’s eyes widened. “No way. Everyone in there is a monster. When Old Xu and I went abroad in our younger days, we ran into some thugs—one of them from Typhon nearly killed me…”

Just as he was about to continue, the camo-clad man walked up, spotted Su Jie, and said, “You must be Ms. Xu Ying’s son?”

“Yes, what is it?” Su Jie asked.

“Your cousins would like to see you. Just to get acquainted,” the man said politely, then turned to Huang Dingyi and bowed. “Master Huang.”

Clearly, Huang had also taught him.

But Huang Dingyi ignored him, still preoccupied with thoughts of the Typhon Camp.

“All right, I’ll go,” Su Jie nodded and turned to Huang. “Teacher, I’ll be back shortly.”

“Go on,” Huang waved.

Long after Su Jie had left, Huang finally came back to his senses. “That kid’s movements… they really do carry a trace of Typhon’s style. Could he really be connected to them? No—I need to find out…”

Meanwhile, Su Jie had been taken to a courtyard in the center of the compound.

He entered a room full of men and women, all looking at him like he was some kind of circus act.

“You little bas—” Xu Jiahong started, then froze.

He recognized the teenager. Not long ago, this very boy had toyed with him and even beat his man Ading without breaking a sweat.

“Hmm?” Su Jie glanced over and met his gaze. “So it’s you.”

“What? You know each other?” Xu Jiren looked puzzled.

“Nope. Never seen him before,” Xu Jiahong replied, his face shifting through a dozen expressions, teeth clenched.

“All right,” Xu Jiren interrupted. “I’ll talk to him.”

He turned to Su Jie. “How old are you? Still in school or graduated?”

Su Jie frowned. He had already guessed these younger Xu family members were hostile toward him and his mother.

Inheritance fights in big families often turned bloody. Even in rural areas, blood brothers fought over a few acres or a cow—some never spoke again. So with a clan this size? No surprise.

But Su Jie remained composed. “Seventeen. Senior year of high school. College entrance exams next year. Hello, cousins.”

“Who’s your cousin?” sneered the garishly made-up woman. “Don’t act like we’re related, b*stard.”

“We’re not relatives,” Xu Jiahao raised an eyebrow. “Who knows where you crawled out from? We called you here to see if you’re some con artist trying to scam your way into our family. Even if you are Xu Ying’s son, you’re here for the inheritance, right? Hate to break it to you—you don’t even carry the Xu name. You’re an outsider. Stop dreaming. Just leave with Xu Ying now, or who knows what might happen. This isn’t a place you can handle.”

Su Jie simply shook his head and turned to leave.

He didn’t want to argue with this gang of spoiled brats.

“Stop right there!” Xu Jiahong snapped. “Where do you think you’re going? You haven’t even said your piece!”

Last time he’d been humiliated by Su Jie. Now that he had backup on his home turf, he wasn’t going to miss his chance.

“What more do you want?” Su Jie asked. “If there’s nothing else, I’m leaving.”

“You think the Xu family’s a place you can just walk in and out of?” Xu Jiahao stepped forward. “Maybe you stole something and are trying to run? Grandpa said Xu Ying used to steal stuff when she was a kid. Then she embezzled from the company and got kicked out. You’re her son—don’t tell me you picked up her thieving habits? Ah Hua, take him to the side room and search him. And get him a change of clothes. What’s this stink? When’s the last time you washed?”

“HAHAHAHA…” several women burst out laughing.

“Xu Jiahao, you’re still pulling these stunts, huh?” one woman cackled. “Heard last time you made a waiter in a bar wear panties on his head and dance for spilling your drink.”

“Didn’t you practically assault the bridesmaid at Xiao Wu’s wedding?” another added.

Even Xu Jiren chuckled. He knew Jiahao was a certified playboy who loved tormenting people, but he also had a knack for hiding deeper intentions behind his antics. This little prank on Su Jie might seem childish, but the goal was to provoke him into overreacting—then they’d twist it into something bigger.

And if it got out of hand? Just call it a “joke” and laugh it off.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep