Chapter 112: Aftermath, Brewing Storm
Silence.
A heavy silence blanketed the street like thick fog rolling through a cemetery at dusk. Not a whisper. Not a breath. Even the wind seemed to pause, as if the world itself held still in disbelief.
Dozens of eyes stared wide, mouths slightly parted, unable to process what had just unfolded before them. Ye Wenjie—once hailed as the rising star of the Ye family—now lay slumped on the ground like a broken puppet, his cultivation shattered, his future erased in a single devastating blow.
Then the crowd erupted.
"No way..." someone murmured, their voice trembling. "He... he crippled him!"
That single sentence was a match tossed into dry kindling.
"Su Tianhao crippled Ye Wenjie!"
"Truly ruthless—I didn't even see him move!"
"Isn't this a declaration of war against the Ye family?!"
Panic, awe, and disbelief swept through the crowd like wildfire through autumn grass. Most backed away instinctively—mortals and low-level cultivators who wanted no part of this. Others lingered, too stunned to move, feet rooted to the cobblestones.
At the center of it all, Su Tianhao stood unmoving and unfazed. His expression was calm, yet his golden eyes exuded a quiet pressure that needed no words: this was not someone to provoke.
Ye Wenjie knelt on the ground, broken and helpless. His once-luxurious robes were soaked with sweat and dust, trembling fingers clutching at his abdomen as if trying to hold together what was already gone.
His two maids rushed to his side, tears streaming freely. Their hearts burned with hatred and resentment—but they didn't dare raise their voices at Su Tianhao. They could only offer what little comfort they had left to give.
"Calm down, Young Master. Su Tianhao will never get away with this," one said through gritted teeth.
The other knelt beside him, her voice soft. "Young Master, it isn't the end. With your knowledge and intellect, you can still—"
"Shut up!"
Ye Wenjie's voice snapped through the air like a whip across bare skin. His eyes were bloodshot, the full weight of what had just happened settling in his chest like a crushing boulder. He shoved their hands from his shoulders.
"Isn't the end? Bullshit!"
The two maids stumbled back like startled rabbits, bodies trembling.
Gao Min stood frozen a few paces behind, legs shaking like leaves in a violent gust.
They could all feel it—their young master was mad.
How could he not be?
His dantian had been destroyed. The talent he had been so proud of was now utterly useless. It wasn't just his cultivation that had been taken—it was his future. Without cultivation, the Patriarch position would never be his. And there was no known remedy for a shattered dantian. To Ye Wenjie, it truly was the end.
As he turned to face Su Tianhao, it was like staring at the man who had murdered his entire family.
"SU! TIAN! HAO!"
He growled, his voice resounding like the cry of a wounded beast echoing through a hollow canyon.
"I swear I will never let this go! You're dead already! I won't stop until you're dead!" His voice rang across the street, face flushed red with hatred and burning frustration.
He was at the edge of madness. With his cultivation gone, he had nothing left to lose.
With bloodshot eyes, he pointed a trembling finger at Su Tianhao. "I swear, as long as I, Ye Wenjie, am alive, you'll definitely suffer a fate worse than—"
SLAP!
A sharp crack split the air like thunder on a clear day.
It was unknown when Su Tianhao moved—but in the blink of an eye, his palm had landed squarely across Ye Wenjie's face, snapping his head to the side with enough force to send blood spraying from the corner of his mouth, scattering like crimson petals caught in a sudden wind.
The crowd flinched as one, hands rising instinctively to shield their own cheeks.
Ye Wenjie staggered, barely keeping upright. His ears rang. Five crimson finger marks bloomed across his cheek like a brand of humiliation burned into his skin.
"You—!" He pointed a trembling finger. "Su Tianhao! I will—"
SLAP!
Another slap, louder than the first. Ye Wenjie's head twisted violently. His face had swollen into a blotched mess of red and purple, fresh blood dripping steadily from the corner of his lips, staining his once-pristine robes.
"You're speaking far too loudly for someone with nothing left," Su Tianhao said quietly, his hand retracting with slow deliberateness. His golden eyes burned with cold fury, every word cutting like tempered steel.
Hiss!
A collective breath swept through the crowd, chills running down their spines.
Ye Wenjie's lips trembled. He wanted to shout, to scream, to curse—but no sound came.
For the first time in his life, he was truly powerless.
Hmph.
Su Tianhao snorted coldly. With a sharp flick of his sleeves, he turned and walked away. No one dared stop him. No one even dared breathe too loudly.
Just as his figure was about to disappear from view, Ye Wenjie's voice rang out—eerily calm, barely above a whisper:
"The Ye family won't let you off..."
Su Tianhao paused mid-step.
"Let them come," he said, without turning back. His voice carried across the silent street like a blade drawn in the dark.
And with those words hanging in the air, he walked away—his silhouette swallowed by the distance, leaving only silence and a sea of stunned faces behind.
---
The crowd dispersed slowly, one by one—but their faces remained etched with disbelief. Shock lingered in the air like smoke after lightning, thick and impossible to dismiss.
And soon enough, news of what had happened spread through Oakwood City like wildfire through dry grassland.
From teahouses to market stalls, training grounds to noble courtyards, the same tale echoed again and again—Su Tianhao had accused Ye Wenjie of orchestrating an assassination attempt. No evidence presented. He had acted anyway, crippling Ye Wenjie in front of dozens of witnesses without a moment's hesitation.
The public reaction was swift and unanimous: shock, laced with deep unease.
"Su Tianhao went too far..."
"Even if Ye Wenjie is guilty, he survived the attempt. It wasn't Su Tianhao's place to judge."
"The Ye family won't let this pass. Retaliation is certain."
"Reckless. No matter how strong he is, he's kicked a hornet's nest."
Whispers turned to speculation. Speculation to concern. Concern to a palpable dread that settled over the city like gathering storm clouds.
---
Deep within the Ye family estate, in an elegant courtyard of flourishing flower gardens and lush greenery, a middle-aged man sat beneath a massive peach tree. His features were weathered, his long black hair streaked with grey. His eyes were closed, expression peaceful, seemingly content to enjoy the morning breeze.
Ye Shiming—Ye Wenjie's father, and First Elder of the Ye family.
Suddenly, the sound of hurried footsteps shattered the tranquility like a stone through glass.
Ye Shiming's eyes snapped open, a deep frown forming immediately. Before him stood a young man with sharp hawk-like eyes—Ye Wenjie's follower, the same one who had tracked Su Tianhao's movements and led Ye Wenjie to the confrontation at the Crimson Vine Tavern. His expression was ugly, barely containing fear.
"Speak," Ye Shiming said, eyes hardening in recognition. "If you don't have a valid reason for interrupting my peace, be prepared to face the consequences."
"I wouldn't dare!" The hawk-eyed youth gulped. His lips parted—but the words wouldn't come.
"Are you here to waste my time?" Ye Shiming's frown deepened dangerously. "Speak!"
"Y-Yes!" The youth stuttered. "T-The Young Master has been... crippled."
BOOM!
The words landed like a meteor striking still water—shattering the calm, sending violent ripples through everything.
Ye Shiming's peaceful expression crumbled instantly, replaced by utter disbelief and volcanic fury. The air around him shifted. Peach blossoms trembled on their branches as if sensing the storm about to break.
"What did you just say?" he asked, his voice dropping to something low and terrifying, each syllable laced with suffocating killing intent.
The hawk-eyed youth dropped immediately to his knees, sweat pouring down his face. "Y-Young Master Wenjie... he was crippled... by Su Tian—"
BOOM!
Before the name could fully leave his mouth, Ye Shiming erupted from his seat like a volcano detonating. His aura exploded outward in violent shockwaves. The chair beneath him crumbled to dust. The ancient peach tree shook violently, shedding a cascade of leaves and blossoms that rained down like falling blades.
The shockwave struck the hawk-eyed youth before he could react, flinging him backwards like a ragdoll caught in a hurricane. He slammed into the earth several meters away, coughing up blood, pain surging through every limb.
He pushed himself up slowly, blood trailing from the corner of his mouth, face ghostly pale. He looked back toward the tree.
Ye Shiming was already gone.
The youth could only manage a bitter, pained smile. Ye Shiming was the First Elder of the Ye family and a 4th level Martial Master. As a mere Martial Disciple, he had no right to complain about collateral damage.
But one thing was crystal clear—something terrifying was about to descend on Oakwood City.
Ye Wenjie wasn't just a son. He was Ye Shiming's pride, his legacy—the child born to him late in life, the hope upon which his entire future had been built.
"I fear Oakwood City won't be peaceful in the days to come," the youth muttered grimly, wiping blood from his chin.
---
Meanwhile, Su Tianhao was completely oblivious to the storm he had just stirred.
Even if he had known, he wouldn't have cared.
He had just arrived home, perfectly in time for a well-deserved bath.