Chapter 2: Appraisal That Settles the World

The rain had eased, leaving puddles in the alleyway that reflected Shen Jingzhe’s sharp, cold silhouette. The air was thick with the smell of wet earth and rust, mingling with the dull thud of the last drops hitting the stone slabs. He didn’t move. He stood in the shadow of the eaves, his gaze piercing the thin mist to lock onto the fading red taillights of that black sedan. In his mind, the Ink Soul cheat ability churned like a living thing, marking every trace of Lin Wanqing’s false piety and the rotting roots of her family tree. Red warning runes flickered at the edge of his vision, as if some ancient totem was waking up.

Inside the car, Lin Wanqing gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. She glanced back through the rearview mirror, and on that exquisite face, fear and murderous intent warred for control, barely masked. The low growl of the engine echoed through the damp cold air, vibrating in the chest. She lowered her voice, her tone vicious but edged with a tremor.

Lin Wanqing’s voice was ice: “Driver, speed up. Contact the guards tonight. I want him gone. Disappeared. Clean.”

The driver stomped the accelerator. The tires screeched as they crunched through the puddles, the engine’s roar tearing through the morning’s quiet. The corner of Shen Jingzhe’s mouth twitched into a faint curve. It wasn’t mockery; it was the calm look of a hunter who had found his prey’s trail. He raised a hand, fingers tracing nothing in the air, as if brushing against invisible runes. Where his fingertips passed, a flicker of golden light danced for a split second before dissipating into the cool morning wind.

Shen Jingzhe muttered silently to himself: “Lin Wanqing, this debt? I’m going to collect it with interest.”

The next morning, the antique street was bathed in perfect sunlight. Dust motes danced in the shafts of light, like golden particles rotating slowly in a quiet, timeless void. Shen Jingzhe had changed into plain cloth clothes. He stood tall and straight, like a sword just drawn from its sheath, blending into the bustling crowd. He walked through the noise with an easy, unhurried pace, his robes swaying gently in the breeze. His fingertips trembled slightly as the Ink Soul within him automatically sensed the stray energies in the air. It smelled of old wood, the metallic tang of copper rust, and a faint, elusive pulse of high-purity Martial Origin energy. The pulse came from an old stall on the corner of the street. Shen Jingzhe didn’t stop walking, but his sharp eyes caught that fleeting flash of brilliance. It was a streak of spirit light buried under years of neglect, completely out of place in the murky streets.

Shen Jingzhe mumbled to himself: “Interesting. In such a small place, so many buried truths.”

Across the street, a low-profile car pulled over. The door opened, and a pair of exquisite high heels hit the pavement with a crisp, arrogant *click*. Lin Wanqing emerged, flanked by two massive bodyguards. Their muscles bulged under their clothes, their eyes fierce, like two silent statues. Around her neck hung a jade pendant, green and dripping with vitality. It caught the sunlight and refracted a tempting glow, instantly drawing the greedy, envious gazes of the passersby. Some whispered, some stopped to peer. Lin Wanqing savored the attention, her chin raised, radiating an arrogance that dared the world to step in. The surrounding chatter seemed to lower its volume to accommodate her presence.

Lin Wanqing caressed the jade pendant, looking at her perfect reflection in a mirror, a smug smile curving her lips: “This ‘Jade Radiance’ is a direct inheritance of the Lin Family. Anyone who knows their stuff looks at it and their legs give out.”

Shen Jingzhe’s gaze swept over the pendant. In his retina, the Ink Soul Authentication System sprang to life instantly. Data streams exploded in his brain, stripping away the green surface layer layer by layer to expose the rough crystal lattice structure inside. The once elegant jade patterns transformed under the system’s analysis into cold, red warnings. Countless tiny cracks sparkled in the data model like a spiderweb, ugly and fake.

Shen Jingzhe sneered inwardly: “A high-end counterfeit. Nephrite material. Internal energy value is 0.3. Less than one-tenth of ordinary jade. It’s just a regular stone that’s been high-pressure dyed and filled with glue. And you’re flaunting it like a top-tier heirloom? Ridiculous.”

Lin Wanqing seemed to feel that cold gaze. She turned her head, her eyes shooting daggers at Shen Jingzhe. She wasn’t going to take it. She decided to turn this humiliation into a public spectacle, to crush the last shred of dignity of this former live-in son-in-law. She marched straight to Shen Jingzhe, her heels clicking sharply against the ground, each step striking a nerve in the onlookers.

Lin Wanqing looked down at him, her voice sugary but dripping with sarcasm: “Shen Jingzhe, what’s wrong? Never seen good jade before? When you were working like an ox for the Lin Family, you didn’t even have the right to touch this, did you?”

Shen Jingzhe stopped. His expression was terrifyingly calm, even tinged with a hint of pity. He didn’t back down; instead, he stepped forward, closing the distance between them. The crowd gathered, curious and tense. The air froze, and you could almost hear their breathing.

Shen Jingzhe spoke lightly: “This jade has been injected with glue. The dyeing craft is sloppy. At best, it’s worth three thousand yuan. You hold it like a lifeline? You’re just telling everyone that the Lin Family’s depth is worth exactly three thousand yuan?”

Lin Wanqing’s face changed instantly. Her pupils shrank. She forced herself to remain calm, raising her voice to maintain the last shred of dignity. The whispering around them grew intense, like a flock of startled birds.

Lin Wanqing shrieked back: “You’re lying! This was appraised by top experts as a family heirloom! Who are you, a junk repairer, to show off in front of me?”

Shen Jingzhe didn’t argue. He just raised his hand slightly, pointing to a tiny crack on the edge of the pendant. His movement was light but firm, as if presenting a piece of precision art.

Shen Jingzhe stated calmly: “Look here. Natural old-pit jadeite has ‘cotton’ transitions at the cracks. Yours has clean breaks, no transition layer. It’s a result of artificial cutting and filling with epoxy resin. It’s a fake. The evidence is ironclad.”

The whispering stopped dead. Everyone stared at the jade pendant, then at Shen Jingzhe. Sunlight filtered through the tree branches onto Lin Wanqing, but it couldn’t drive away the pale, deathly look on her face. She felt dizzy. She didn’t dare bet anymore. In her shame and anger, she resorted to violence instinctively.

Lin Wanqing barked at her guards: “Beat him up! Don’t kill him, just cripple him!”

The two bodyguards lunged forward, fists whooshing through the air, their momentum intimidating. Shen Jingzhe didn’t dodge. His body swayed slightly, looking passive, but he was actually tracking their movement patterns. The Ink Soul Authentication System marked the meridian blockages and move vulnerabilities in real-time. His focus sharpened, generating a targeted “Barrier-Breaking Acupuncture Technique” on the fly. An invisible ripple seemed to spread through the air.

Shen Jingzhe moved like lightning, his fingertip flicking.

In that instant, it was so fast it left only afterimages. The bodyguard’s fist stopped an inch from Shen Jingzhe, then their bodies stiffened like stone, falling backward in a straight line. Dust flew as they hit the ground with a dull, heavy thud.

The onlookers gasped.

Bystander A’s eyes went wide: “Was that too fast? How did he do that?”

Bystander B muttered quietly: “He didn’t even blink. Took down two huge guys. Is this former son-in-law actually a High Martial master?”

Lin Wanqing flinched back half a step, her face pale, but she forced herself to stand tall, her fingers trembling as she pointed at Shen Jingzhe. Her lips quivered, trying to maintain the authority behind her perfect mask.

Lin Wanqing threatened, tough on the outside but soft on the inside: “How dare you lay a hand on me! Do you know who I am? The entire Lin Family stands behind me! If you touch one of my fingers today, I will make your life hell!”

Shen Jingzhe brushed non-existent dust off his sleeve. He didn’t even look at her. His tone was indifferent, like he was talking about the weather. A breeze blew in, bringing the scent of tea from a distant teahouse, but he was only focused on the dust before him.

Shen Jingzhe declared the boundary: “I won’t waste my time arguing with your limited perspective. But one warning. If you ever engage in this self-deception again, I won’t mind letting your whole family see what ‘cleaning house’ really means.”

With that, he turned and left, his back straight and cold, leaving the bystanders with an image full of mystery.

The crowd murmured, their astonishment unending.

Bystander A exclaimed: “That skill was off the charts. The Lin Family’s eldest daughter’s face is probably shattered on the ground by now.”

Bystander B shook his head: “No wonder he could endure it before. He must have had trump cards up his sleeve.”

Lin Wanqing stood frozen, her face the color of ash. Jealousy, fear, and humiliation woven into a net, trapping her tightly. She watched Shen Jingzhe disappear around the corner, her nails digging into her palms until blood seeped out, but she couldn’t feel the pain. The sunlight was still glaring, hitting her pale face with a bitter irony.

Back at the workshop, Shen Jingzhe closed the windows and lit an incense stick. Blue smoke curled up, tangling with the dim yellow light. He sat cross-legged, closing his eyes. In his mind, the faint Martial Dao residue from the two bodyguards and the free-floating Origin energy in the air were automatically collected and refined by the Ink Soul system. The scattered energy flowed into him like a flock of birds returning to their nest.

Shen Jingzhe focused inward: “Convert.”

Golden light condensed at his dantian, slowly liquefying into a drop of crystal-clear liquid. This was Martial Dao Condensed Liquid. One drop was worth more than a million in cash. He felt that Origin power merge into his meridians, a soothing, full warmth spreading through his limbs and bones, as if every inch of his muscle was cheering.

Shen Jingzhe whispered: “Is this power... No, this is freedom.”

Late at night, the workshop was silent. Only the clock ticked, each swing striking the pulse of time. Moonlight outside was cold, casting shadows through the paper windows onto the table. Suddenly, the old mobile phone on the table vibrated. The screen showed an unknown number. Shen Jingzhe raised an eyebrow and answered. A slight current of electricity hissed in the earpiece, then a low, hoarse voice with a touch of mockery emerged, like a whisper from the abyss.

The mysterious voice spoke slowly: “Mr. Shen, did the rain on the antique street dampen your talent? This is Mo Qianji. I hear you showed some stunning ‘authentication’ skills in front of the Lin Family’s eldest daughter today. That’s a talent worth my personal attention.”

Shen Jingzhe gripped the phone, his fingers tightening slightly. A spark of sharpness flashed in his dark eyes. In the darkness, that glint twinkled like a lone star, heralding a new storm about to strike.