Chapter One: An Eruption in Silence

Ye Xiaoxuan could no longer remember how many times he had come to the gate of Village Secretary Chen Jiatang’s house. Half a year ago, his father, Ye Aba, broke a leg when the ancestral hall was being demolished and a crumbling wall collapsed on him. The township compensated with ten thousand yuan, but Ye Aba only received two thousand as “hush money”—the rest had been embezzled by the village secretary!

“Uncle Chen, we’ve already spent over six thousand just on medical bills, and three thousand of that is borrowed money. Didn’t the township already grant ten thousand? I heard it’s already been sent to the village, so please, just give it to us!” Ye Xiaoxuan pleaded pitifully, gazing at Chen Jiatang who was slurping noodles in the courtyard.

Chen Jiatang’s wife, Zhang Cuizhi, called out sarcastically from the kitchen, “If someone gave you the money, go ask them for it! Why do you keep buzzing around our house all day like an annoying fly? I’m sick of you!”

Chen Jiatang’s fourteen-year-old son, Chen Tianhao, threw down his rice bowl and swaggered over, glaring at Ye Xiaoxuan with disdain. “When I say there’s no money, there’s no money! Get lost, you worthless piece of trash!”

Forcing a smile, Ye Xiaoxuan said, “Brother Tianhao—” But before he could finish, Chen Tianhao swung his arm and slapped him hard across the face. “Who’s your brother? Trash like you thinks you’re worthy of calling me brother? I’ll say it one more time—get lost, or I’ll cripple you just like your useless father, and then you’ll spend the rest of your days in bed!”

Ye Xiaoxuan’s expression changed. Clenching his fists, he shouted back, “Say that again? You can humiliate me all you want, but you are not allowed to insult my family! If you do, don’t blame me for what happens next!”

Startled by this unfamiliar fierceness, Chen Tianhao stumbled back two steps.

With a sharp crack, Chen Jiatang snatched up a bamboo pole meant for the mosquito net and struck Ye Xiaoxuan’s hand, his tone icy. “There were so many people working together, but only his leg got smashed—if that’s not useless, what is? He practiced martial arts all his life and only reached the Martial Scholar rank, and now you can’t even get that far. You’re good for nothing, neither learned nor skilled—what else would I call you?”

Ye Xiaoxuan pointed at Chen Jiatang and cursed, “Chen Jiatang, to hell with you and your wife! I’ll say it again—insult me all you want, but never my family! Are you going to give me the money or not? If you don’t, tomorrow I’ll report you to the township!”

Chen Tianhao punched Ye Xiaoxuan in the mouth and spat, “You dare shout in my house, you piece of trash? Go ahead, report us if you can!”

Before Ye Xiaoxuan could react, Chen Tianhao punched him again, this time in the nose. Then, tripping him with a swift move, he sent Ye Xiaoxuan sprawling face-first into the dirt, so dazed and battered he couldn’t get up.

Chen Tianhao sneered and spat at the ground. “You’re nothing but a big oaf, useless at everything you try.”

Lying on the ground, Ye Xiaoxuan clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles went white. The physical pain was nothing compared to the humiliation burning in his heart.

In Scholar’s Township, where Reed Village was located, martial arts were highly revered; nearly every villager knew a few moves. The people were fierce, worshipping strength above all else.

Martial proficiency was ranked from lowest to highest: Martial Scholar, Martial Master, Martial Guard, Martial King, Martial Emperor. Ye Xiaoxuan had failed to master even the basics since childhood. Now eighteen, he hadn’t even reached the level of Martial Scholar—so everyone looked down on him and bullied him at every turn.

But today, he’d been beaten up by a mere sixth grader. At last, something inside Ye Xiaoxuan snapped.

The years of humiliation ignited within him like molten lava. He lunged forward, grabbed Chen Tianhao’s legs, and toppled him to the ground, then unleashed a rain of furious blows on the boy’s face.

“You—!” Chen Jiatang, enraged to see his son beaten, jabbed the bamboo pole straight into Ye Xiaoxuan’s chest, knocking him flat. He then vaulted over the table and kicked Ye Xiaoxuan hard on the forehead.

At that instant, Ye Xiaoxuan’s pupils flared a deep, bloody red—just for a moment—before he crashed several meters away, his head striking the grindstone in the courtyard with a sickening crack. Blood splattered everywhere as he lay motionless.

Zhang Cuizhi ran out from the kitchen, shrieking, “Heavens—have you lost your mind? You’ve killed him!”

Chen Jiatang hadn’t expected to strike so hard and stood frozen in shock.

Chen Tianhao wiped his nose, ran over, and checked Ye Xiaoxuan’s neck. “Don’t panic, he’s still breathing…” he called.

Just then, Ye Xiaoxuan’s right hand shot out, seizing Chen Tianhao by the throat. Staring at Chen Jiatang, he growled, “Bring me every coin my father is owed—without exception!”

Blood soaked through Ye Xiaoxuan’s clothes, his skull gleaming white where the flesh had split, a gaping wound in his chest. His entire body was stained crimson, his face twisted and fearsome. Chen Tianhao, petrified, dared not resist.

Chen Jiatang shouted in panic, “Don’t do anything reckless! Woman, get the money—now!” Zhang Cuizhi hurried into the house.

Blood streaming from his wounds, Ye Xiaoxuan pushed Chen Tianhao aside, stood tall before father and son, and declared in a hoarse, blood-flecked voice, “If I survive this day, no one will ever look down on me or the Ye family again! From now on, neither of you will bully us. I demand that you both kneel before my father and me, and apologize!”