At dawn, Jiang Feng slowly opened his eyes, exhaling a breath of stale air as he rose from the bathtub. The water had cooled, and the dark red medicinal liquid, now absorbed, had faded, losing its potency. Though aided by herbs, one night’s work showed little effect on his cultivation—unsurprising, given his body’s poor foundation.
Jiang Feng wasn’t rushed. He knew his limits; for now, this was merely strengthening his body. With enough wealth, breaking through to the third layer of Body Tempering in a month or two was feasible. But beyond that, as cultivation advanced, herb consumption would multiply, demanding astronomical sums even an ordinary person couldn’t fathom. This worried him slightly. The Jiang family was wealthy, and his monthly allowance substantial, but it fell far short of his needs.
“Guess I need to make money,” he muttered with a wry smile, shaking his head. He drained the tub, refilled it with fresh water, and soaked briefly.
After ten minutes, he dressed, left the courtyard, and jogged along a cobblestone path. Talent mattered in cultivation, but perseverance was key. Body Tempering was tedious, and without great resolve, most lingered in this stage, leading mediocre lives. Jiang Feng, though living among the Jiang family’s villas, was the least favored spendthrift, relegated to the complex’s edge. Unless he stirred trouble, no one bothered him—a fact he didn’t mind.
Running nearly five kilometers until his body hit its limit, he walked back briskly. Not far along, a red Ferrari screeched to a stop beside him. The window rolled down, revealing Jiang Hao’s sneering face. “Young Master Jiang, so diligent! Need a ride?”
The stench of alcohol on Jiang Hao’s breath made Jiang Feng grimace.
Clearly, Jiang Hao had partied all night—why else would he be up so early?
“No thanks,” Jiang Feng declined.
Jiang Hao chuckled, “We’re brothers—don’t be shy. Hop in, I won’t charge you for gas.”
He knew Grandpa had frozen Jiang Feng’s cards—a light punishment, but for a spendthrift like him, losing money was half a death sentence. Jiang Hao wouldn’t miss a chance to mock.
“I said no,” Jiang Feng snapped, walking off.
Jiang Hao watched him go, a cold glint in his eyes. “Think you’re somebody, Jiang Feng? One day, you won’t even know how you died.”
Back home, Jiang Feng ate breakfast.
Ma Lianhao burst in, panting, “Young Master, results are in!”
He handed over an appraisal report. Though unsure of Jiang Feng’s intent, he’d handled the task flawlessly. Jiang Feng scanned it, frowning.
“Something odd?” Ma Lianhao leaned in.
“Not just odd—very strange,” Jiang Feng said coldly.
“I don’t get it,” Ma Lianhao said, puzzled, pointing at the report. “Lipids, dust, cellulose, organic matter, trace elements, angelica, cyperus, motherwort, epimedium… what’s this mess?”
“Horse eye gunk,” Jiang Feng said flatly.
Ma Lianhao stepped back, stunned. “Young Master, your taste needs work. Horse eye gunk? Really?”
The gunk itself was worthless, but its components were intriguing. “Know what epimedium is?” Jiang Feng asked.
“Heh, I didn’t, but I looked it up for you. It’s for… boosting stamina,” Ma Lianhao said slyly, winking. “Young Master, you don’t…?”
“Get lost!” Jiang Feng snapped.
Ma Lianhao laughed, nodding exaggeratedly. “I get it, we’re men, I totally get it.”
Jiang Feng didn’t bother explaining. Epimedium boosted human vitality, sure, but on animals, it was a powerful aphrodisiac. Finding it in horse eye gunk meant the horse had been fed something laced with it, explaining its sudden frenzy. His eyes darkened. He’d suspected the horse’s outburst was unnatural, but this confirmed tampering. Whoever did it knew his habits and preferences perfectly, orchestrating a precise trap.
He’d suspected foul play because Yanjing’s climate meant mares’ mating season ran from March to July. Late August was past that—natural agitation was impossible. Someone had meddled.
After a moment’s thought, he asked, “What do you know about the Huadian Racecourse incident a week ago?”
Ma Lianhao sobered, seeing Jiang Feng’s gravity. “Not much, mostly hearsay.”
He regretted missing it—he’d been with Jiang Feng that day but got called away, missing Jiang Feng’s dashing horseback moment.
“Find out who was at Huatian that day,” Jiang Feng said grimly.
“No way, too many people!” Ma Lianhao groaned.
“Just the key players,” Jiang Feng clarified.
The Jiang family wasn’t Yanjing’s top clan but was elite. Most young elites would hesitate to cross him, narrowing suspects to a few with motive and means.
Ma Lianhao agreed eagerly. Jiang Feng, pleased, said, “Hold on, I’ll write a prescription to tune up your health.”
Ma Lianhao paled, scrambling for an excuse to bolt.
Jiang Feng laughed—apparently, even Ma Lianhao reacted like Sister Hua had.
The next two days passed quietly. Besides Jiang Dai’er’s daily visits, Jiang Hao and Jiang Ping left him alone. But Jiang Feng knew he’d thoroughly offended Jiang Jingyun’s family—they wouldn’t let it slide easily.
Each night, he brewed medicine to temper his body, improving noticeably. Though far from his ideal state, the progress satisfied him.
Two days later, school started. Jiang Dai’er arrived early, urging him to head to campus together.
Chuckling at her concern, Jiang Feng agreed. He had the driver drop him at Yanjing University’s gate, instructing him to take Jiang Dai’er to the affiliated high school for enrollment.
Stepping out, Jiang Feng realized his mistake. A Yanjing University student entering his sophomore year, he’d rarely attended, always driving straight in. Walking, he was lost—the campus was vast, and he didn’t know the way to the administrative building for enrollment.
Hesitating, he decided to ask for directions. He didn’t care much for academics—skipping exams all freshman year—but didn’t want to disappoint Jiang Dai’er.
“Excuse me, where’s the Business Administration building?” he asked a female student.
She glanced at him, blushed, and shook her head. “Sorry, I don’t know.”
He smiled and asked others. Four or five claimed ignorance; some fled before he spoke. Perplexed, he wondered if they weren’t students here.
About to wander in blindly, a screeching brake sounded behind him. A black Lotus sports car stopped, and a coarse shout erupted, “Poor b*stard, watch where you’re going! Move, or I’ll run you over and still have to pay to wash my car!”
Jiang Feng frowned. Even as the Jiang family’s least favored, he’d never lacked money—“poor b*stard” stung. Still, he stepped aside; he’d blocked the way, and their rudeness wasn’t worth a fight.
The driver, seeing him yield, snorted, floored the gas, and roared into campus, turning heads.
Jiang Feng took a breath and walked on.
In the fading Lotus, a serene girl in the passenger seat, mildly displeased with the driver’s attitude, said, “Conghu, didn’t you see who that was?”
Guo Conghu shrugged carelessly. “Who cares?”
She sighed. “It was Jiang Feng.”
Guo Conghu’s eyes widened, annoyed. “That toad chasing swans? No wonder he’s such a coward. If I’d known, I’d have hit him! Why didn’t you say sooner, Miss?”
She shook her head. “He’s a Jiang. You’d dare?”
“So what? I crush anyone I dislike. Even that fake gentleman Qin Junlin—if he crosses me, I’ll beat him senseless!” Guo Conghu’s fierce gaze radiated menace.