Ye Qiu was utterly shocked.
It wasn’t the sudden appearance of text in the wordless book that stunned him—it was the sharpness of its pages.
His body, tempered to rival bronze skin and iron bones, could deflect bullets. Yet a thin page had cut him.
What was going on?
At that moment, the wordless book shifted again. Beyond the four ancient characters Nine Needles Against Heaven on the cover, intricate patterns emerged—vein-like, weaving densely across the surface.
The pages thinned further, delicate as cicada wings.
Ye Qiu studied the patterns, running his fingers over them. He concluded this wasn’t cowhide paper but some unknown beast hide.
What creature’s skin was this sharp?
He marveled.
Flipping it open, mysterious runes gradually surfaced on the once-blank pages.
The runes flowed, forming archaic seal script that appeared before his eyes.
The text was obscure, challenging to decipher.
After a while, Ye Qiu pieced it together, his face alight with awe.
It was a Taoist acupuncture secret manual.
Titled: Nine Needles Against Heaven!
As the name suggested, it detailed nine needles.
First needle expels evil; second banishes curses; third summons souls; fourth calms the mind; fifth steadies the spirit; sixth cleanses marrow; seventh alters fate; eighth revives the dead; ninth defies the heavens!
It even included detailed cultivation methods.
Ye Qiu read through the techniques once. Suddenly, the text vanished, leaving the book blank again.
What?
He closed his eyes, recalling it all. Relieved, he’d memorized the Nine Needles Against Heaven completely.
Then he examined the pages again.
Swipe—
Running a page across his fingertip, it sliced another cut, blood flowing freely.
Instead of pain, Ye Qiu felt exhilaration.
“The sharpness rivals a divine weapon. What if I turned it into a hidden weapon?”
The idea thrilled him.
He owned the Emperor Sword Chixiao, but at three feet long, it was cumbersome to carry.
These pages were different.
Thin as cicada wings, feather-light—if crafted into hidden weapons, they’d be portable and catch enemies off-guard.
“A real treasure.”
As his excitement peaked, the book crumbled into powder in his hands.
This…
Ye Qiu was dumbfounded by the abrupt change.
Looking down, the powder flowed across the floor like water, forming seven characters:
“Shu Mountain’s old land awaits your return!”
What did that mean?
Puzzled, it first seemed like a lovesick woman pining for her lover’s return.
But on reflection, it felt off.
Five seconds later, an eerie gust scattered the powder, erasing the book’s last trace.
It was as if the manual had never existed.
Ye Qiu stood still, silent for a long time.
He had a hunch—the Nine Needles Against Heaven didn’t appear by chance. It felt fated.
“Am I tied to this somehow?”
“‘Shu Mountain’s old land awaits your return’—what’s that about?”
He pondered but couldn’t unravel it.
“Forget it. If I can’t figure it out, I won’t.”
Ye Qiu shook it off and headed out of the study.
Gaining the Nine Needles Against Heaven was no small haul.
As he emerged, Elder Qian’s furious shout echoed from the hall:
“You wretched fools!”
“I’ve warned you countless times—live upright, steer clear of vices like gambling and debauchery. But you ignored me and racked up tens of millions in debt!”
“You’re trying to kill me with rage!”
No doubt, Elder Qian was berating Cao Chunmei and Qian Rong.
Sure enough, Ye Qiu entered to find them kneeling in the hall’s center.
Elder Qian sat high in the main seat.
Qian Weidong, Qian Jinglan, and close family flanked the sides, too scared to breathe under his wrath.
Elder Qian roared, “Though Qian Bowen was the mastermind in plotting against me, you two were accomplices—your crimes unforgivable.”
“But as my daughter-in-law and granddaughter, I won’t turn you over to the police.”
“You just can’t stay in this house anymore.”
Hearing they’d be expelled, Cao Chunmei and Qian Rong wailed for mercy.
“Father, please don’t cast us out. Rong’er and I have nowhere to go!”
“Grandpa, I beg you—let us stay! The loan sharks will kill us otherwise!”
Elder Qian thundered, “You reap what you sow.”
“Grandpa, please!”
Qian Rong kowtowed frantically, her forehead banging the floor—bang, bang, bang—until blood trickled down.
Qian Jinglan’s heart softened. “Father…”
She barely spoke before Elder Qian slammed his cane, silencing her.
He ordered Qian Weidong, “Sell my prized originals to pay their debts.”
Qian Weidong gaped.
He hadn’t expected Elder Qian to sacrifice his decades-long collection for them.
Guo Yuting spoke up, “Father, those originals are your treasures, gathered over years. Selling them would be a shame.”
“How about this—Weidong and I will cover it.”
“We’ve got a few million saved, and Weidong’s company can pull over ten million in cash. Selling our villa should close the gap.”
Ye Qiu was surprised.
He’d pegged his second aunt as a drama-loving bystander, not someone to step up with such righteousness.
Elder Qian said, “I know Weidong’s company. Over ten million’s no small sum—pulling it out would strain things, and the company’d suffer. Sell my originals instead!”
“Grandpa, no need. I’ll cover it,” Ye Qiu interjected.
“You?” Elder Qian paused, then asked, “Ye Qiu, tens of millions isn’t pocket change. You’ve got that kind of money?”
Ye Qiu smiled faintly, “To me, money’s just a number.”
