Chapter 54: The Hell-Suppressing Platform
President Fang’s anger erupted like a storm. This time, it wasn’t just a simmering irritation—his fury surged like a tidal wave, powerful and unstoppable.
To be fair, though Luo Qing had deceived him before, President Fang had taken it in stride. After all, he was no stranger to the treacherous waters of the martial world. The ways of Jianghu were never straightforward—there were those who aided you, and those who betrayed you. He had endured many such schemes, each one a bitter lesson carved into his bones.
But this—
This was different.
Yesterday, Elder Zi had personally visited to apologize, taking the initiative to offer compensation as a sign of submission. That was an unspoken agreement to settle matters with dignity. President Fang, magnanimous as he was, had chosen to accept. The sum wasn’t insignificant, but it was rightfully his! He had suffered losses, endured sickness, and even broken a leg—all thanks to Luo Qing’s machinations. That money was his due, as solid as iron.
And yet—
A mere day later, they had the audacity to go back on their word?
This wasn’t just a slight. This was a deliberate act of humiliation!
To disregard the unspoken laws of the martial world, to play him for a fool—
Veins bulged on President Fang’s forehead as he clenched his teeth. “Assistant Yan! Call Elder Zi immediately and demand an explanation! Does she think I, Fang Da Hai, am made of clay?!”
Assistant Yan nodded, already reaching for his phone when President Fang suddenly barked, “Wait!”
Assistant Yan halted. “Boss, is there another instruction?”
President Fang tapped the table rhythmically, his lips curling into a cold sneer. “Forget it. No need to waste words on that woman. She and Luo Qing are from the same sect—naturally, they look out for each other.”
Assistant Yan’s expression remained impassive, though inwardly, he wondered if President Fang had meant to say ‘birds of a feather flock together’ instead of whatever strange phrase he had just uttered.
“What’s our next move, then?” Assistant Yan inquired cautiously.
President Fang sighed. “We have to approach Teacher Chen again. It’s a pity. Just last night, I sent him gifts and shared a meal with him. Now, asking for a favor right away makes it seem like we only extended courtesy because we needed something.”
Assistant Yan hesitated, then ventured, “Boss, perhaps you’re overthinking it? From what I’ve observed, Teacher Chen prefers straightforward dealings. If you need something, he will simply name a price. I doubt he’ll refuse.”
“You don’t understand.” President Fang shook his head. “I don’t want my relationship with Teacher Chen to be one of mere transactions. I want to befriend him. But alas, this matter is beyond others’ capabilities—we have no choice but to seek his aid.”
Narrowing his eyes, he pondered, then asked, “Yan, can you think of a way to make Teacher Chen owe me a favor instead?”
Assistant Yan, sensing his boss’s intent, cautiously suggested, “Perhaps by catering to his interests?”
“Hmm… A sound strategy. The best way to build relationships is to appeal to their desires. But the problem is, we barely know Teacher Chen. We don’t even know what he likes.”
(He likes money.)
The thought flashed through Assistant Yan’s mind, but he wisely kept it to himself. He had seen it clearly before—when discussing exorcism rituals, Teacher Chen had seemed disinterested. But the moment they mentioned paying a full month’s rent, his face had brightened like the dawn. When they raised the offer to cover six months of property fees, he had agreed without hesitation.
Yes. Teacher Chen was a man who loved wealth.
But who didn’t?
It wasn’t as if they could just show up with a sack of gold.
Assistant Yan racked his brain for a better approach. Then, inspiration struck.
“Boss, I recall something. When Teacher Chen rented your property, the agent handling the deal was an old acquaintance of his. I was there when they signed the contract, and from their conversation, it seemed they were university classmates.”
President Fang’s eyes gleamed. “Oh?”
Assistant Yan continued smoothly, “Perhaps I could approach the agent and strike up a conversation?”
“Good. Do it. But be subtle—don’t dig too deep, just find out what Teacher Chen values. Whether he has a particular fondness for something or anyone he holds dear.”
“Understood.”
—
Meanwhile, at Cloud Lodge Courtyard, Chen Yan had been busy all morning.
The Spirit-Gathering Formation had been damaged when Gu Qing Yi had struck it. To repair it, Chen Yan had contacted the unscrupulous stone merchant to order replacement engraved greenstone slabs.
When the call went through, the merchant had been overjoyed—he had assumed the deal had fallen through when he couldn’t reach Chen Yan for days. Originally, Chen Yan had ordered a hundred white jade plaques, but after the Seven-Day Great Calamity, he had shut off his phone. The merchant had thought he had lost the business altogether.
But now, not only was the deal back on, but additional materials were needed. Even better—there was no need to cut new stone. When preparing the last batch, the merchant had wisely kept extra slabs in stock in case of errors during the rune carvings. Those unused pieces were still sitting in his warehouse, waiting for a buyer.
Everything was falling into place.
Chen Yan cracked his knuckles and exhaled slowly. He had barely recovered from the tribulation, and trouble was already knocking at his door again.
But that was the way of the martial world—chaotic, unpredictable, and full of unseen currents.
And Chen Yan? He thrived in such a world.
The stone merchant, upon receiving Chen Yan’s call, thumped his chest in reassurance—within two days, the delivery would be complete, including the hundred white jade plaques from the previous order.
That morning, within the courtyard, Chen Yan oversaw Old Turtle as he diligently cleared the shattered Spirit-Gathering Formation stones.
Alas, poor Gui Geng, reduced to a laborer, toiled under the morning sun. These very stones had once siphoned energy from the mountain, forcing him to run back and forth in suffering. In his heart, he cursed Chen Yan countless times as a “shameless scoundrel.”
After ordering Gui Geng to tidy up, Chen Yan took a brief respite. As he turned his head, he caught sight of Little Madam Gu, who had, at some unknown moment, set up a chair in the middle of the grassy yard.
Her petite figure sprawled languidly upon it, body loose, limbs slack—eyes half-closed, as if lost in slumber, or perhaps cultivating some enigmatic technique.
Two hours passed.
She did not move an inch.
What a waste, Chen Yan thought with a silent sigh.
Such a beautiful young lady, yet reclining like some idler from a tavern.
Curiosity piqued, he stepped forward and gave the chair a light nudge with his foot.
“…,” Gu Qing Yi opened her eyes, gazing at him serenely.
“What are you doing here? You haven’t moved all morning.”
She pondered for a moment, then replied softly, “I am basking in the sun.”
Chen Yan raised an eyebrow at her words, instinctively tilting his head to glance at the sky.
Though the sky was clear, winter had set in. The sun above, though bright, emitted only the faintest of warmth—barely worth mentioning.
A northwest wind howled through the courtyard. In such weather, a normal person sitting outside for half a day would surely catch a chill.
“The temperature today barely reaches three degrees,” Chen Yan frowned. “What’s so enjoyable about the sun?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
Gu Qing Yi spared him a glance before turning her gaze back to the heavens. With startling sincerity, she murmured, “The sunlight here… it is warm.”
Chen Yan had meant to tease her, but something in her eyes gave him pause.
She looked up at the meager sunlight, yet within her gaze shimmered a rare trace of—
Enjoyment?
Chen Yan hesitated, unsure if his eyes had deceived him.
Looking at this refined yet somewhat bewitching girl, he suddenly found himself glimpsing an emotion so fragile that it stirred an inexplicable pang of sympathy within him—though he could not place why.
After a moment of contemplation, he turned and walked back into the villa. When he returned, he carried two steaming cups of milk tea.
“President Fang sent some fine tea leaves as a gift yesterday. And there was fresh milk in the fridge. I thought I’d experiment.”
He handed one of the cups to Gu Qing Yi. “Try my special blend of Green Milk Tea.”
She accepted it, hesitated, then took a small sip.
Instantly, her alluring eyes narrowed in pleasure.
She liked sweet things.
Chen Yan noted this fact in his mind with certainty.
He had deliberately added an extra half-spoon of sugar.
With a smile, he pulled over a chair and positioned himself a short distance from her, mimicking her posture as he sank into it.
A sip of milk tea. A gust of cold wind.
Was this not sheer torment?
He turned his head to look at Gu Qing Yi again, only to find her expression one of complete contentment.
“In the Domain Realm, can’t you bask in the sun?” he asked lightly.
“We can,” she murmured, eyes barely open. “Spring in Peach Blossom Mountain is warm with gentle breezes. They say the sunsets at Two Dragons Bay are breathtaking. And in summer, people of Luo River Plain dive into the Celestial River to escape the heat…
But I have never seen these places myself.”
“You’ve never seen them?” Chen Yan asked curiously.
Gu Qing Yi shook her head. “I am of the Gu Family. Our ancestral cultivation method follows the Path of Warfare—we do not specialize in sorcery, only in combat. Since childhood, I have trained in the Battle Method, and when I came of age at fifteen, I was sent to Hell-Suppressing Platform.”
Chen Yan’s expression darkened. “Hell-Suppressing Platform? That name alone sounds dreadful.”
Gu Qing Yi’s eyes grew cold. “Indeed, it is not a place of comfort.”
She gazed at the sun with a distant look, lost in memories, her voice soft and detached:
“There, the sky is eternally gray—
Neither sun nor moon ever pierce the haze.
No day. No night.
Only relentless gales, as sharp as steel blades, carving into flesh…
A cultivator standing in the open must constantly channel their energy in defense. If not, the wind will strip flesh from bone.
I have seen it happen.
A man, stripped of his cultivation, cast into the storm—
A living being reduced to bare bones in mere moments.
The air is always damp and cold. No matter how much water you drink, your mouth tastes of bitterness.
There is never a single breath of warmth…
Ah, no—
That is not quite true.”
She suddenly paused, the corners of her lips curving into a twisted, almost delirious smile.
“When blood sprays against your face—
That warmth, at least, can be felt.”
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