Chapter 111: Su Tianhao's Rage, Crippled Ye Wenjie
A faint hush fell over the street.
One by one, passersby slowed their steps, drawn by the tension in the air. In moments, a small crowd had formed along the edges of the road. Murmurs rippled through them—quiet, curious, cautious.
"What's going on?"
"Isn't that Ye Wenjie? And... Su Tianhao?!"
Eyes darted between the two young men standing in the middle of the wide stone road—one calm and terrifyingly composed, the other trying hard not to crumble under invisible pressure.
Ye Wenjie's effortless smile had vanished. A thin film of sweat clung to his brow despite the cool morning breeze. He stood rigid, trying to keep his breathing steady, but his clenched fists betrayed him.
Behind him, his two personal maids—who had been walking with elegance moments ago—now looked pale and tense, backs stiff as they exchanged nervous glances.
They didn't fully understand what Su Tianhao was referring to. But they knew their young master well enough. Ever since his humiliating defeat, Ye Wenjie had spoken of Su Tianhao with unrelenting obsession—his hatred so intense it had worried even them. They couldn't be certain what he had done this time. But they had no doubt he had provoked this.
The more outspoken of the two stepped forward, eyes sharp as she glared at Su Tianhao.
"Why are you accusing the young master of something he clearly knows nothing about?"
The second followed, her voice softer but laced with defiance—eyes shimmering with manufactured tears, her expression pitiful as a wronged child. "That's right! We were just walking along, minding our own business. Why are you slandering our young master like this?"
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"Could it be... Su Tianhao's been falsely accusing Young Master Wenjie all along?"
Hmph.
Su Tianhao's cold snort cut through the rising whispers like a blade through silk, silencing the street in an instant.
He stepped forward slowly, hands behind his back, golden eyes fixed on Ye Wenjie.
"You've been awfully quiet, Young Master Wenjie," he said, his smile faint and unhurried. "You seemed quite shocked to see me earlier. Did something happen while I was away?"
Ye Wenjie forced a chuckle. "Shocked? I just didn't expect to see your face again so soon."
"So soon?" Su Tianhao echoed lightly. "Strange choice of words. Did you think I'd be gone longer?"
"You're twisting my words."
"Am I?" Su Tianhao raised a brow, his tone perfectly innocent. "Then tell me—why were you so sure I wouldn't come back?"
Ye Wenjie flinched. "Don't put words in my mouth—"
"And yet the moment you saw me, the first thing out of your mouth was: 'How are you still alive?'" Su Tianhao's eyes sharpened, voice like steel wrapped in silk. "Why would you say that... unless you expected me to be dead?"
The crowd drew a sharp collective breath. The implication landed like a stone dropped into still water—and the ripples spread immediately.
The two maids exchanged pale glances. Gao Min stood frozen behind them, his expression unsightly. He wanted nothing more than to flee, but his legs refused to cooperate. He couldn't run—not with Ye Wenjie standing there, and certainly not with Su Tianhao's golden eyes watching like a hawk. He was a fly caught in a web spun not by Su Tianhao, but by Ye Wenjie's own deceit.
Color drained from Ye Wenjie's face. His thoughts scrambled in every direction, searching desperately for an escape from the tightening noose—but no words came.
The pressure Su Tianhao exuded was suffocating, and he hadn't even released his aura. It wasn't cultivation alone—it was presence. A complete control of the moment that swallowed Ye Wenjie whole.
Standing before him no longer felt like facing a fellow Martial Disciple.
It felt like standing before a predator in human skin.
"Expected me to be dead," Su Tianhao repeated, his voice slow and deliberate. "What kind of person would expect something like that? Surely not someone innocent. Not someone uninvolved."
Ye Wenjie's composure cracked. "You're just trying to frame me for sending an assassin after you—!"
"Assassination?" Su Tianhao's lips curled. "I didn't mention anything about assassination just now. So how do you know about it... unless you had something to do with it?"
His voice trailed with deliberate precision. His golden eyes narrowed like twin blades.
Ye Wenjie's heart lurched. But he was no ordinary person—he had always thrived on cunning. He took a slow breath, eyes closing, chest rising and falling with practiced rhythm.
When his eyes opened again, the fear was gone. His expression had become completely unreadable.
The abrupt shift startled the onlookers. But Su Tianhao was not surprised.
'Truly a snake through and through,' he thought coldly.
"I have told you—I don't know what you're talking about," Ye Wenjie said, his voice smooth and precise, carrying a righteous undertone calculated to work the crowd. "You have no evidence of my involvement. Don't go accusing people without solid proof."
The crowd stirred—not fully convinced, but not fully dismissing him either. The logic held, even if the man didn't.
Eyes turned to Su Tianhao.
Ye Wenjie smiled inwardly. He had shifted the weight of expectation back onto his opponent. He turned to his companions.
"Let's go."
"Did I say you could leave?"
Su Tianhao's voice fell behind him like a whisper from the abyss.
Ye Wenjie froze. Chills crawled down his spine. His fists tightened at his sides.
'Su Tianhao... I swear neither of us will ever live peacefully under the same sky,' he vowed inwardly—but outwardly, he masked everything behind a controlled frown.
"Su Tianhao, what's the meaning of this?" he asked, his voice sharp with displeasure.
"You think I would let you walk away freely after finding out you sent an assassin after me?" Su Tianhao said, his tone cold and even. "Wouldn't that just be letting a venomous snake slither back into the grass to strike again?"
Ye Wenjie's eyes flickered. "Even if I sent an assassin after you—which I didn't—you have no evidence. And you're clearly alive and unharmed, so stop trying to frame someone for something that didn't happen."
The crowd reacted immediately.
"That's right—Ye Wenjie is suspicious, but his words aren't without reason. Su Tianhao is clearly safe and sound."
"Until there's solid evidence, Su Tianhao can't do anything."
"Hahahaha!"
Su Tianhao's laughter rang out sharp and sudden—cutting through the murmurs. But beneath it, unmistakably, was anger.
"Ye Wenjie, do you seriously think I'm a fool?" He stepped forward. His aura wasn't released—but the temperature seemed to drop several degrees anyway, the air thickening with something unspoken.
Ye Wenjie took one instinctive step back, knuckles whitening.
"Su Tianhao, don't go too far. If you try to hurt me, the Ye family won't let you off," he said, his voice threaded with warning.
Su Tianhao raised an eyebrow—utterly unmoved.
Desperation crept into Ye Wenjie's eyes. "Don't forget what you are—an ordinary orphan picked up from the streets! The Su family already has the He family to deal with. They wouldn't go to war with my Ye family for someone like you!"
The street went silent.
"What did you say?"
Su Tianhao's voice was barely above a whisper—but it carried the weight of a mountain. His golden eyes blazed with a killing intent so refined and heavy it pressed against the air itself, condensed through weeks of combat, slaughter, and Yuexin's sword insights seared into his very soul.
Ye Wenjie stood frozen. His back was drenched in cold sweat. It was no longer the look of someone facing a rival.
It was the look of a man who had just realized he had stepped on the tail of a sleeping dragon.
The label of orphan had always been a scar on Su Tianhao's soul—one that haunted his childhood, shaped his rage, and forged his resolve. But the moment he learned the truth of his bloodline, that scar became his identity. His pride. A testament to everything his parents had sacrificed for his survival.
And Ye Wenjie had just mocked it.
BOOM!
Su Tianhao moved. No warning. No words. His azure robes whipped violently behind him like war banners summoned by fury.
Ye Wenjie's breath caught in his throat.
Whoosh!
In the blink of an eye, Su Tianhao stood before him—fist drawn back, killing intent coiling around it like a serpent poised to strike.
He wasn't aiming to wound.
Ye Wenjie saw it too clearly. He had crippled others before. Now he stood on the receiving end.
Pride shattered instantly. He abandoned all pretense.
"Plea—"
He never finished.
BOOM!
Su Tianhao's fist landed clean, direct, and absolute. The sound split the air like a mountain cracking open.
CRACK!
A sharp rupture rang out from Ye Wenjie's dantian.
Whoosh!
Spiritual energy gushed from his body like a dam splitting under divine wrath—his foundation erased, his path as a cultivator obliterated in a single heartbeat.
"AAAAHHHHHHH!!!"
Ye Wenjie screamed. No elegance. No composure. Just raw, broken agony echoing down the street like the cry of a dying beast.
His knees buckled. He crumpled.
In mere seconds, he had been reduced to a shell of what he once was.
A mortal.
A cripple.
To a cultivator, it was a fate far worse than death.
The crowd stood frozen. Not a voice rose. Not a step moved. Even the wind seemed to still.
Su Tianhao's figure stood tall and silent, golden eyes burning with cold fire.
He hadn't merely struck Ye Wenjie.
He had sent a message—to Oakwood City, to its clans, and to fate itself.
He was done being hunted.
From this moment forward, he would be the one doing the hunting.