Being a Late Bloomer in the Cultivation World

As the horsewhip lashed toward his face, the large, brocade-clad man, Qiao Tai, looked startled, his eyes bulging wide.

He apparently hadn’t expected that Wei Tu—who had always been mild-tempered and agreeable in the Shan Mansion—would suddenly strike with such viciousness.

’A misjudgment!’

Anxiety surged in Qiao Tai’s heart. He swallowed hard, shoving his fear of Wei Tu to the back of his mind. Tilting his body, he reached out with his right hand to snatch the tip of Wei Tu’s whip.

He was a Martial Artist himself. While he didn’t think he was a match for Wei Tu, he was confident he could catch the whip’s tip and dodge this strike.

However, in the next instant, the tip of the whip seemed to blur into a phantom before his eyes. It completely bypassed his outstretched right hand and landed squarely on his right cheek.

Instantly, Qiao Tai felt a searing pain on his right cheek, followed by the stinging itch of blood trickling from the wound.

The sound followed a moment later—the sharp crack of the horsewhip slicing through the air.

But to Qiao Tai’s horror, he only heard the sound with his left ear. His right ear, in that single instant, had gone deaf.

’No, it’s been destroyed. The aftershock from that whip strike must have ruptured my eardrum...’

Qiao Tai touched his itching earlobe and saw blood smeared on his fingertips. He was horrified, but he knew at once what had happened.

"Brother Qiao, do you still wish to block my way?" Wei Tu glanced at Qiao Tai, his tone turning cold.

That single whip strike had already inflicted a minor injury on Qiao Tai, but even now, he showed no intention of stepping aside, still blocking the doorway resolutely.

Seeing this, Wei Tu understood at once.

Shan Fang and her husband were counting on the fact that he wouldn’t use his official position and Martial Arts strength to get truly rough with them.

After all, blood is thicker than water. He was indebted to his master, Shan Wuju. No matter how unfilial Shan Fang and her husband were, he couldn’t leverage his own power to "oppress" the couple.

This was the source of Shan Fang and her husband’s confidence, the reason they dared to block him, an Eighth-Grade Military Officer.

Because he was not only an Eighth-Grade Military Officer, but also the disciple Shan Wuju had raised like a son.

Qiao Tai clutched his wound and remained silent, not answering Wei Tu.

"The master’s time... he only has a few more hours."

Just then, Mrs. Gao of the Shan Family, who was standing behind Wei Tu, stepped forward to remind him in a low voice.

Hearing this, Wei Tu’s expression darkened.

He knew what Mrs. Gao of the Shan Family meant. Or rather, he had already guessed what Shan Fang and her husband were thinking the moment Qiao Tai blocked the door.

Shan Fang and her husband were preventing anyone else from seeing Shan Wuju on his deathbed...

For one, they could slander other relatives in front of Shan Wuju, getting him to "rewrite" his will.

A man on the verge of death is often not of sound mind and is easily deceived.

For another, even if Shan Wuju didn’t rewrite his will and wasn’t deceived, if they were the last people to see him alive, they could forge a new one themselves and claim it came from his own mouth.

"Since you insist, Brother Qiao, don’t blame me for what I’m about to do."

Wei Tu’s mind raced. After a few moments of thought, he finally made his decision. He fixed his gaze on Qiao Tai and said coldly.

He didn’t want to make a scene before his master, Shan Wuju, passed away. That was why, after striking Qiao Tai with the whip, he had hoped the man would know when to back down and unblock the door on his own.

Moreover, while giving Qiao Tai time to think... he was also waiting for Shan Yanguo’s arrival...

Although Shan Yanguo had left the Prefecture City at the same time as him, his Equestrian Skill was far better than Shan Yanguo’s, so he had gotten ahead and arrived at the Shan Mansion in Sanyuan Town first.

As the eldest son of the Shan Family, Shan Yanguo could make decisions that he, an "outsider," could not, acting with Shan Wuju’s authority.

’And Brother Yanguo... if he wanted to notify me, he could have just sent a servant. Why did he have to make the trip himself, giving Shan Fang and her husband this opportunity...’

Thinking of this, Wei Tu couldn’t help but shake his head.

He suspected Shan Yanguo probably hadn’t expected Shan Fang and her husband to be so shameless, driving away Mrs. Gao of the Shan Family who was at the bedside, and then blocking the door to the living quarters.

As Wei Tu finished speaking, a chill shot through Qiao Tai’s heart.

That earlier whip strike from Wei Tu had already deafened his right ear, making him a "cripple"...

If Wei Tu got serious now, even if he managed to keep his life today, he would undoubtedly end up crippled in some other part of his body.

The more Qiao Tai thought about it, the more terrified he became.

Aside from his "familial" relationship with Wei Tu, he was merely a son-in-law who had married into the Shan Family. He held a low status both inside and outside the Shan Mansion.

An Eighth-Grade Military Officer like Wei Tu could kill him in the street and, at most, be stripped of his office and forced to pay compensation. He wouldn’t see the inside of a prison cell.

At this thought, Qiao Tai’s stubbornness evaporated. He swallowed hard, shuffled his feet, and cleared a path for Wei Tu into the house.

’If I’m crippled,’ he thought, ’knowing Shan Fang’s personality, she won’t treat me well. She’ll probably just find someone new.’

At this, the cold glint in Wei Tu’s eyes softened slightly. He turned and nodded to Mrs. Gao of the Shan Family, motioning for her to follow him inside.

When he saw Mrs. Gao of the Shan Family walk into the living quarters, Qiao Tai wanted to block her, but after a moment’s hesitation, he didn’t dare take that step.

Once inside the living quarters, Wei Tu lifted the partition curtain and saw Shan Wuju lying on the sickbed. His complexion was ashen, his expression vacant, and the unpleasant smell of old age hung about him.

His gaze shifted to Shan Fang, who was sitting by the bedside.

Shan Fang was sitting primly on a stool. Feeling Wei Tu’s gaze upon her, she tensed, and her face turned a shade paler.

From the sounds outside, she had already pieced together the conflict between Wei Tu and Qiao Tai, and understood Wei Tu’s overbearing approach.

’Should I take it out? Or not?’ Shan Fang’s mind was in turmoil.

Her right hand, hidden inside her sleeve, was tightly clutching a sheet of paper covered in script.

With each passing moment, the paper was growing damper from the sweat in her palm.

She was worried that if she didn’t take the paper out soon, the fresh script would be soaked by the sweat of her palm and the ink would run.

Then, it would be useless.

Just as Shan Fang was lost in thought, she heard Wei Tu’s voice.

"How is Master doing?"

The question was asked in a gentle tone, a complete reversal of his overbearing manner outside.

Shan Fang was taken aback.

She understood at once: Wei Tu didn’t want to make a scene before her father died, which would cause him to pass away filled with regret.

"He’s... holding on..." Shan Fang forced a smile.

But after she spoke, she felt that wasn’t quite right, so she added, "Father... an hour ago, he could still barely speak. Now he can’t say a word. It’s like he’s become senile."

"I think he’ll pass away soon."

Shan Fang sighed.

As she spoke, the tension on her face eased into a calm expression tinged with sorrow.

At that moment, she herself wasn’t sure if her grief was genuine or just an act for Wei Tu’s benefit.