Chapter 139: The Rare Judgment

Uncle Mang and Nie Shuang held considerable authority within the Minglun Martial Arts Academy. Su Jie’s efforts to persuade them were part of his broader attempt to sabotage the Feng family’s plans.

Last time, when he went with Zhang Manman and Zhang Jinchuan to a war-torn region, he managed to persuade the local warlord, Awasi, to release the Xu family’s shipment. It had been a brush with death—he’d gained nothing personally, but the blow to the Feng family’s Haoyu Group had been severe. The experience had also given him a profound sense of renewal, which made it all worthwhile.

This time, his instincts told him that Haoyu’s sudden commotion inside Minglun Martial Arts Academy was part of a major strategic move. Naturally, Su Jie couldn’t just stand by; whether he succeeded or not, he intended to give it everything he had.

Participating in the tournament, winning the championship, and disrupting Haoyu’s plan—that was one part of it. The other part was getting the academy’s administrators and higher-ups to resist Haoyu on a strategic level. Ideally, he hoped they could pull a “Zhang Jinchuan” move and make the Haoyu Group’s scheme backfire spectacularly.

With that in mind, he already had a plan: for this upcoming Pointing Path martial arts team competition, he wanted to recruit Zhang Manman and Zhang Jinchuan again.

The three of them had handled warlords in a war zone before. In the relatively tame environment of home, they’d surely thrive.

Sometimes, an individual alone couldn’t achieve much—but a united team could move mountains.

“You think we don’t already know that old ghost Feng Shoucheng’s scheme?” Uncle Mang chuckled. “Don’t worry. Liu Guanglie knows what’s going on too. Of course, we might still need your help. As for your current situation, I can’t really teach you anything—only study alongside you. But that guy Gu Yang has some good stuff on him. You might want to learn a thing or two from him—if he’s willing to teach.”

“As for the ointments and internal strengthening wine you want to buy, that’s beyond my authority,” Nie Shuang said with a grin. “I can try to introduce you to the old headmaster sometime. He’s the only one who can make that call about whether the Fengs can buy in.”

The old headmaster—Liu Guanglie—was a remarkable man. He’d founded Minglun Martial Arts Academy with his own hands, built multiple enterprises, created the Minglun Daoyin Technique, and developed miraculous tonics like Internal Strength Wine and Heavenly Ointment.

Technically, they weren’t medicines but health supplements.

Su Jie had seen the slow, deliberate movements of the Minglun Daoyin Technique performed by Zhang Jinchuan, and it struck him as both fascinating and mysterious.

If he could meet Liu Guanglie in person, it would surely be a great opportunity.

“Well, I’ll go find Coach Gu Yang now,” Su Jie said. “I’ll be around for the next two months—just reach out anytime.” He knew he couldn’t convince Nie Shuang and Uncle Mang for now.

Everyone had their own ideas.

He left the massage room and went to look for Gu Yang.

Watching Su Jie’s retreating figure, Nie Shuang murmured, “Uncle Mang, that kid’s getting stronger by the day. It’s only been a year—how can anyone progress that fast? Is he one of those once-in-a-generation prodigies?”

“Human potential is immeasurable. Even the greatest scientists can’t define the limits of the human body,” Uncle Mang said. “His psychological strength is incredible—he’s constantly absorbing knowledge and turning it into power.”

“That sounds unscientific,” Nie Shuang remarked.

“Maybe so,” Uncle Mang replied, “but you’ll see. That kid’s full of surprises. Apart from talent, he’s hardworking, disciplined, smart, and knows exactly what to do and what not to do. He’s like a precision machine. Even an ordinary person who lived like that for a year would achieve remarkable results.”

“True enough,” Nie Shuang nodded. “The Feng family seems to be pressing in on all fronts. They really want to swallow Minglun Martial Arts Academy whole. I can’t tell what the old headmaster’s thinking. Liu Zihao’s reckless, sure, but the old man shouldn’t be so shortsighted.”

“There’s a powerful force behind the Feng family—it’s connected to the Typhon Training Camp. The old headmaster’s been tempted,” Uncle Mang said. “He’s spent his life chasing the mysteries of martial arts. The Typhon Camp’s research and technology are irresistible to someone like him. Honestly, even I’d hesitate if given that chance.”

“If we could get access to Typhon’s research data through the Feng family while still staying independent, that would be perfect—a win-win,” Nie Shuang said. “But the old headmaster seems to have a piece on the board—a little nemesis for the Fengs.”

“You mean Zhang Jinchuan, the only true practitioner of the Minglun Daoyin Technique?” Uncle Mang asked. “That boy’s talent is extraordinary—even higher than Su Jie’s. He’s brilliant, resourceful, patient, and goal-oriented. But compared to Su Jie, he lacks a certain grounded depth, that quiet steadiness beneath the surface. Don’t you think?”

“I feel the same,” Nie Shuang agreed. “When you’re with Su Jie, you feel at ease. He’s not calculating—everything’s out in the open. At first, I thought he was just blunt, but now I see he walks the path of integrity. If you help him, he’ll remember it and repay you. Zhang Jinchuan, though… he’s clever to a fault. You always have to keep your guard up.”

“Exactly,” Uncle Mang said, nodding. “That’s why I’d rather research alongside Su Jie than get tangled with Zhang Jinchuan. As for the Feng family’s third son—he’s a man-eating beast, through and through.”

“The old headmaster’s wisdom runs deeper than ours,” Nie Shuang said. “Whatever we know, he surely knows too. Maybe he’s just playing along for now. At the very least, Haoyu’s involvement has boosted our student intake and widened our reputation. You’ve also gotten more research funding out of it.

“But that Su Jie kid—he’s worth studying. I think all his physical transformations come from his psychological strength. That’s a major topic of global research. You might actually make a breakthrough through him.”

“Agreed,” Uncle Mang said, nodding. “The link between psychological and physical strength is undeniable, but we still don’t know how far it can go. We have no precise data—too few examples.”

Uncle Mang’s research focused on how psychological resilience affected physical ability.

A person who stayed happy and positive tended to be strong and long-lived.

A person steeped in negativity had weaker immunity, fell ill often, and even died young.

That was an iron law.

But what kind of mindset could push human strength to its absolute limit? There was little scientific data on that. Psychological states were intangible—impossible to measure—but undeniably real.

Uncle Mang’s studies relied heavily on traditional Chinese medical experience—case by case, observing, recording, inferring.

“Luo Weiji and Ma Fengnian are both experts in psychology,” Nie Shuang said. “They’ve also set their sights on Su Jie. He’s a perfect test subject—someone they can collect meaningful data from. Ordinary people are useless for that—no research value.”

“Ninety-nine percent of people are lazy, greedy, fearful, impulsive, chasing shortcuts, drifting without plans or self-awareness,” Uncle Mang sighed. “No value at all for study. So far, I’ve only found two who let me research them—Su Jie, and Kang Gu, the deaf-mute. Zhang Jinchuan refused, and Feng Hengyi—forget it.”

“There’s actually another person worth studying,” Nie Shuang said.

“You mean Gu Yang?” Uncle Mang shook his head. “Old Gu’s too stubborn. I can’t get through to him.”

Their talk drifted naturally from Su Jie to Gu Yang.

At that very moment, Su Jie was on his way to find Gu Yang.

He’d heard that Gu Yang hadn’t taken on any students this summer, and the traditional martial arts class had been handed over to another instructor.

Supposedly, there had been too many complaints—students claimed they weren’t learning anything.

“People these days are so impatient,” Su Jie thought. “Coach Gu Yang’s methods are simple but powerful. Back when I learned his ‘hoe-and-dig’ exercises, that was the foundation of everything I’ve achieved since.”

He walked toward the teachers’ dormitory.

Gu Yang lived alone there.

He had no family—no one at all.

Bang!

As Su Jie reached the door, he heard a muffled explosion inside, like a hot water bottle bursting, water spilling everywhere.

“Someone’s fighting in there.”

His instincts flared. The door was locked. He pressed his palm to it—then shoved hard.

Crack!

The bolt snapped under the force of his “Hoe Head” technique. In a flash, he slipped inside.

“Who’s there?”

A voice—and a flash of steel.

A dagger stabbed straight toward Su Jie’s chest—fast, precise, lethal. The thrust was serpentine, twisting unpredictably, impossible to block or dodge by sight.

That dagger’s even deadlier than Gray Wolf’s or Hungry Wolf’s! Su Jie’s brain calculated instantly. A month ago, I’d never have stopped that strike. This isn’t Coach Gu Yang—the guy’s got the aura of a soldier.

Before his eyes could even register the attacker’s face, his body was already moving. His torso bent backward ninety degrees, the dagger slicing through the air where his chest had been.

His leg shot out like a spear, aiming for the attacker’s knee, then he rolled aside like a giant python twisting through a swamp—dodging the follow-up strike.

Swish! Swish! Swish!

Both missed—the kick and the dagger. The assailant’s movements were lightning-fast, ghostlike, striking and withdrawing in an instant.

Su Jie dropped low, crawling out the doorway. The room was dangerous—too many unknowns. Better to retreat, assess, and strike from a position of advantage.

That was a lesson he’d learned in the war zones.