Chapter 3: Humiliation
Chapter 3: Humiliation
Ruo Xue had been dead for over half a month, and Shiyang Town had mostly returned to calm.
The Cheng family’s main work was mining black gold stone, delivering it monthly to Yunyang City.
Mining black gold stone was a continuous process, handled by Shiyang Town’s strongest men. The Cheng family paid them well and assigned experts to oversee operations.
Cheng Yun once stood as a Cheng family expert, equal in reputation to family head Cheng Feng. But after sustaining an incurable injury, his power faded and his status crumbled.
Cheng Lingyu never learned what truly happened to his father years ago. Each time he asked, Cheng Yun would only shake his head silently.
Lately, Cheng Lingyu noticed faint relief on his father’s face—pride in his son’s growing cultivation skills.
Understanding this unspoken pride, Cheng Lingyu’s resolve to strengthen himself burned hotter.
Cheng Yun had endured three crushing blows: his wife’s death during childbirth, his own irreversible injury, and his only son being labeled useless. These burdens aged him a decade overnight.
Now, witnessing his son’s progress, a sliver of hope pierced Cheng Yun’s despair. How could he not rejoice?
Cheng Lingyu trained relentlessly. Each night, he’d fall instantly into deep sleep, glimpsing a faint spark in endless darkness.
As his cultivation grew stronger, the spark brightened like a newborn star.
Every awakening brought surges of power far exceeding normal training speeds—threefold, fivefold, more.
Both father and son recognized this anomaly. Though clueless about its origin, they knew it granted unmatched advantage.
“I’ve scoured library records,” Cheng Lingyu said. “Ordinary folk recover through sleep, but cultivators sacrifice rest for training. Are we missing something vital?”
“Common sleep means nothing to cultivators,” Cheng Yun replied. “Only transcendent deep sleep—pure mind, optimized body—truly matters.”
“I’ve slept soundly since that time in the mountain sinkhole,” Cheng Lingyu mused. “Three days unconscious after Ruo Xue died… Could something have changed me there?”
Cheng Yun’s weathered face tightened with memory. “Your mother endured half a month in that sinkhole while pregnant with you. She… shouldn’t have died birthing you. Not with her strength.”
“The sinkhole’s doing?”
“Many examined it. Found nothing. Those ancient tablets—‘Extreme’ for ultimate yang, ‘Forbidden’ for taboo—mark it as extreme forbidden ground. Secrets linger there, I’m certain.”
Their discussion yielded more questions than answers. One truth emerged: Cheng Lingyu’s rapid deep sleep fueled his explosive growth.
That afternoon, Cheng Lingyu left the backyard to visit Ruo Xue’s grave. Cheng Zhaojun blocked his path.
“Seventh Brother! Still breathing? You nearly choked Third Brother with rage.”
Cheng Lingyu’s eyes flashed. “Move.”
Cheng Zhaojun laughed. “Why fuss? Plenty of fish in the sea.”
As Cheng Lingyu pushed past, the taunt followed: “Pretty Ruo Xue chose death over Third Brother! His rage still echoes through town.”
Cheng Lingyu’s body trembled, his heart aching with unbearable pain as hatred twisted his features.
Cheng Zhaojun stepped in front of him, blocking his path. “Even if you never won Ruo Xue’s hand,” he mocked, “winning her heart was still something. Not like Third Brother—no heart, no bride, just shame. Pathetic.”
“Shut your mouth!”
Cheng Lingyu’s shout shook with fury.
Cheng Zhaojun laughed. “Does it hurt? Blame your own weakness. The strong crush the weak here. Who else should I bully? Remember your place—you’re in no position to speak to me like this.”
He gripped Cheng Lingyu’s cheek, fingers digging in like a man disciplining a child.
Cheng Lingyu slapped his hand away, eyes blazing.
“Enough.”
“What’ll you do?” Cheng Zhaojun sneered. “I like tormenting you. Does it sting?”
Cheng Lingyu’s jaw locked. Every muscle screamed to attack, but he held still.
He knew. Knew he couldn’t beat Cheng Zhaojun yet. Any fight now meant worse humiliation.
Breathe. Endure. Years of patience couldn’t shatter here.
Cheng Zhaojun barked laughter at his silence, smacking Cheng Lingyu’s cheek twice. “Good. Keep that obedience when you see me next.”
He strode off, leaving Cheng Lingyu’s fists clenched till knuckles whitened. Three steps forward—three breaths—then stillness.
Seven years of study taught this: A true man bends without breaking. Recklessness solved nothing.
Yiyun Calligraphy Academy stood quiet as a tomb since Ruo Xue’s death. The Teacher hadn’t taught a class in weeks.
She’d been his only child. After his wife’s passing, they’d clung to each other. Now his black-haired daughter lay buried by his white-haired hands. Regret ate at him like rot.
He’d known her heart. Yet the Cheng family’s pressure made him approve the marriage—the same pressure that drove her to despair.
Half a month of sleepless nights. Half a month drowning in guilt.
Three bore blame for Ruo Xue’s death: Cheng Zhaolong’s cruelty, Cheng Lingyu’s love, the Teacher’s compliance.
No Cheng Zhaolong—no forced wedding. No Teacher’s consent—no ceremony. No star-crossed romance—no reason for her final choice.
Cheng Zhaolong lit the flame, but the other two fed it.
The Teacher sat in his courtyard, aged beyond years, staring at a letter. Slowly, he pulled a chain from his neck—a single ancient coin dangling.
Hathered eyes hardened. “Forgive me, Ruo Xue. I’ll join you and your mother only after vengeance.”
The chain snapped. The coin slid into the envelope’s fold.
Footsteps approached. A young scholar bowed.
“Teacher? You sent for me?”
Teacher looked at the newcomer with bitterness in his eyes.
“Yuan Sheng, I need someone to deliver a letter personally…”
Yuan Sheng answered, “Don’t worry, Teacher. I’ll deliver it myself.”
“This journey is long and dangerous. You might not survive. Think carefully.”
Yuan Sheng paused. “Is the letter that important?”
Teacher said painfully, “It holds Ruo Xue’s lifelong regret.”
Yuan Sheng’s face changed. He became eager.
“Teacher, I’ll deliver this even if I die! Ruo Xue won’t carry regrets!”
Taking the letter, Yuan Sheng left determinedly, his silhouette showing unwavering resolve.
Cheng Lingyu stood before Ruo Xue’s grave, his face filled with endless sorrow.
“Ruo Xue, I’m here.”
The mountain breeze whispered like her voice in the void.
Cheng Lingyu felt heavy. His first love had brought cruel pain.
“Rest well. I’ll kill that beast myself. Within three years, I’ll bring his head here.”
As he turned to leave, Cheng Lingyu saw a familiar figure.
“Teacher… I’m… sorry.”
Teacher said with a weary voice, “I failed Ruo Xue. That marriage shouldn’t have happened.”
Cheng Lingyu stayed silent. He’d blamed Teacher before.
Now Ruo Xue was gone. Nothing mattered anymore.
“I’ll take revenge. That beast won’t escape!”
Cheng Lingyu left alone, looking lonely.
Teacher watched the departing figure by the grave, sighing deeply.
“Silent thoughts linger… Maybe they were never meant to be…”
Cheng Lingyu returned to Cheng Manor to plan his revenge.
The Cheng family had ruled Shiyang Town for a century, crushing all competitors and controlling the black gold stone mine. They had strong ties with major sects and great families.
For generations, the Chengs prospered with many experts.
Cheng Lingyu had many cousins and male relatives. Some talented ones trained with powerful sects.
Cheng Zhaolong, the family head’s son, joined Xuanhuo Sect years ago. Now a true disciple of the True Martial Realm.
Cheng Lingyu reached the Gathering Power phase in Nine Levels of Mortal Martial Arts. He could lift eight hundred pounds – impressive, but far behind Cheng Zhaolong’s True Martial Realm power.