Chapter 32: Mother's Wrath, Father's Shield
Just as the elders' meeting was winding down, tension still hanging thick in the air from Wu Yuan's revelations—
"WU YUAN! YOU BRAT! GET OUT HERE RIGHT NOW!"
A thunderous, feminine voice rang through the main hall's stone pillars like a lightning bolt crashing down in the middle of a funeral.
Everyone froze.
Elders glanced at each other, stunned. Even the ever-calm Wu Lin's brows twitched.
"Who dares shout so disrespectfully in front of the Wu Clan's main hall?!" one elder barked, already halfway out of his seat.
But before anyone could summon the guards or unleash a rebuke, realization dawned.
That voice… they all knew it.
A few elders immediately turned their heads, some standing up half-straight, not out of offense—but caution.
Wu Yuan, already sensing disaster long before the door burst open, hurriedly gave a deep bow to the clan head and elders.
"Father. Clan Head. Elders. I'll be taking my leave for now!"
He didn't wait for a reply.
He was already running.
And not a second too soon.
Because the next moment, a slim, furious woman stormed in, holding a wooden stick in one hand and fire in her eyes.
It was Su Qing. Wu Yuan's mother.
—
Without so much as bowing or sparing a glance to the elaborate room or high-ranking elders, she marched in like a general storming enemy territory.
Her eyes scanned the room like a hawk. Empty.
She snapped to Wu Lingtian, hands on her hips.
"Brother-in-law! Where is that brat?! Where did he run off to?!"
There was no honorific. No careful phrasing. Not even a hint of formality.
But Wu Lingtian only smiled wryly, rubbing his temple.
She was older than him—not just by age, but in seniority of marriage, and in the Wu Clan, that mattered. More importantly, she was Su Qing. Trying to lecture her on decorum was like trying to scold a thunderstorm.
He glanced out toward the distant corridor, where Wu Yuan had vanished like wind.
"He was here a moment ago, Sister-in-law," Wu Lingtian said diplomatically. "But I suppose he… remembered something urgent."
One of the elders chuckled quietly under his breath. Another muttered, "Urgent, my foot. That boy ran faster than a Spirit-Step rabbit."
Wu Lin, Wu Yuan's father, remained silent as always—but the faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Su Qing looked ready to swing her stick at him next.
"Urgent? Hah! After all the things I heard he's done today? Accepting duel after duel like some martial maniac?!"
She waved her stick like a sword.
"Does he think he's some war god, challenging Level Six cultivators?! He's eight! Eight!! I'm going to break that arrogant back of his!"
The entire hall tried their best not to laugh, their heads lowered respectfully but shoulders twitching.
Wu Tianhai coughed into his sleeve. "Lady Su Qing… perhaps… a talk might be more constructive than the stick?"
Su Qing turned and gave him a piercing look.
"Oh? Elder Tianhai, when your son skips meals, lies to his mother, hides injuries, and then challenges enemies two realms above himself—you'd talk?"
Wu Tianhai wisely said nothing.
The only sound in the hall was the soft wind fluttering the banners on the walls… and the echo of Wu Yuan's footsteps disappearing far, far away.
Su Qing huffed, stomped once, and turned around.
"Fine. I'll go find him myself."
And with that, she left, muttering under her breath.
"…even got the clan head defending him now. That brat's becoming too slick for his own good…"
Only after she left did the room exhale in unison.
After Su Qing stormed out, the echo of her footsteps fading into the distance, a long silence settled over the hall.
Wu Lin stood up slowly, cupping his hands.
"My apologies, everyone. Qing'er was… understandably upset."
His words were calm, but his expression showed a rare flicker of embarrassment.
Before any elder could respond, Wu Lingtian chuckled and waved his hand dismissively.
"No need to apologize, Brother-in-law," he said with a half-smile. "That's not something to be ashamed of—it's something to treasure."
He looked around at the gathered elders and continued softly, "It's just a sign that Sister-in-law truly cares. No matter how strong Wu Yuan becomes, in her eyes, he will always be that sickly little boy who needed her for every little thing. That's a mother's heart."
The mood in the room shifted.
What had been a lingering tension just moments ago—heated debates, uncertain stances, power plays between elders—suddenly turned quiet. Reflective.
Because they all knew who Wu Lingtian was thinking of.
A child who would never know that kind of care.
A son whose mother had died before his first birthday.
Wu Lingtian didn't name him.
He didn't have to.
The heavy silence that followed was more than words.
Even Wu Tianhai, who was usually quick to break awkward moments with some gruff pragmatism, remained silent.
Wu Lin's gaze flickered toward his younger brother, and though his face remained composed, there was a softness in his eyes.
After a few long seconds, Wu Lingtian exhaled and straightened.
"Well. This meeting is adjourned."
He looked toward the remaining elders and added firmly, "Until tomorrow's duel concludes, I want all of you to remain alert. Nothing must happen to Wu Yuan—not in the dark, not in plain sight."
"If we lose him now," he said, his tone grave, "we don't just lose a child with talent. We lose the future of our Wu Clan."
One by one, the elders nodded solemnly.
The storm had not passed. It had merely paused.
And in the quiet, they all felt it:
The true battle had just begun.
After the meeting dispersed, the elders returned to their respective duties, conversations hushed with new weight. Wu Lin, however, didn't follow. Without a word, he quietly turned and began walking toward the inner courtyards.
He knew exactly where he needed to go.
Meanwhile, in the Wu Clan's eastern courtyard—
Wu Yuan had barely made it past the pavilion gate when the shadow loomed behind him.
"Wu. Yuan!" came Su Qing's voice, sharp and thunderous.
He flinched.
Before he could turn around, she was already upon him—stick in hand, eyes blazing.
Su Qing expected her stick to land cleanly—after all, she barely used any strength. How could a mere eight-year-old at the Fourth Level of Body Tempering avoid it?
But to her utter shock, Wu Yuan twisted aside with blurring speed, the stick slicing through empty air.
That speed…! Su Qing's eyes widened.
Unknown to her, Wu Yuan wasn't just a Level 4 cultivator. He was already at Level 11 Body Tempering, a stage no one even heard in Verdant Mountain. Even more astonishing—he had been tempering his body with lightning-type materials, known for their explosiveness and speed.
To Su Qing, it was like watching a rabbit outpace a hawk.
"You dare dodge me!?"
Her astonishment turned into wrath.
Wu Yuan knew he had made a tactical error.
"Mother, wait, listen—!"
"No more clever mouth!" she snapped, and before he could run again, she accelerated and caught him by the collar with one swift motion.
"Caught!"
"Ack—! Waitwaitwaitwait!"
But there was no waiting.
Smack!
Thump!
Whack!
"Fighting two Level Fives? Declaring a Level Six duel? And don't even tell me you planned it, you little fox!"
"Ow! I did plan it—ow! Strategically! There were reasons!"
Su Qing was relentless this time.
Unlike before, when she had shouted but spared him the stick, this time she really let her hands fly. Spanking, scolding, pinching his ear, shaking him—Wu Yuan found himself helpless before her maternal wrath.
"No more sneaking around pretending you're just some cute little junior!"
"But I am a cute little junior!" Wu Yuan squeaked.
Su Qing paused mid-swat, blinking.
Then, she smacked him again. "You dare joke right now!?"
Just then, Wu Lin stepped into the courtyard—and paused.
Before him was a scene no elder or enemy would believe if told.
His mighty, dangerous, prodigious son—the same boy the entire Wu Clan now whispered about as their rising star—was squatting on the ground, rubbing his sore rear with a deeply aggrieved expression. Beside him, Wu Xiao silently dabbed ointment on his bruised face, having clearly been caught in the crossfire of Su Qing's maternal fury.
And standing tall in the middle of it all was Su Qing, stick still in hand, scolding Wu Yuan like he was five years old and had just stolen buns from the kitchen.
She turned sharply as she noticed Wu Lin's arrival. Not even a flicker of embarrassment crossed her face.
"And what about you, Lin?" she snapped, narrowing her eyes. "What were you doing in the clan hall today? Why didn't you speak up for Yuan'er? Why did you let the others put him on the spot like that?"
Wu Lin blinked. "How did you even know what happened in—"
Then his gaze shifted slowly to Wu Yuan.
The boy was smirking at him, that same rare, smug smirk he sometimes wore before a finishing move in battle. His expression clearly said:
You think I'm going down alone? No, Father. It's your turn now.
But Wu Yuan had forgotten one thing—his father wasn't so easily caught in a trap.
Just as Su Qing opened her mouth, stick rising again, Wu Lin stepped forward and raised his hand gently.
"Qing'er," he said in a steady voice, "it's not because I wanted to put Yuan'er on the spot… but because I had to."
Su Qing froze mid-step, eyes narrowing. "Had to? Explain. Quickly."
Wu Lin nodded solemnly, glancing at Wu Yuan for a brief moment before locking eyes with her. "Qing'er, I think everyone is missing one thing. Even you."
He paused, then added slowly, deliberately, "Yuan'er is only eight years old. Just eight. And he's already able to defeat Level 5 Body Tempering cultivators. You remember… it's barely been two months since he awakened his talent. That kind of growth—it's unheard of in the entire Verdant Mountain. No one can ignore that for long."
Su Qing's lips tightened, the stick lowering just a little.
Wu Lin continued, his tone steady but heavy with intent, "That's the very reason I didn't openly support him in the main hall. The moment someone thinks he's favored or protected, they'll start digging—into his training, his methods. Especially the elders. They'll wonder if I'm hiding something… if I've discovered some secret cultivation method or treasure and am using it solely for my own son."
He took a breath and looked Su Qing in the eyes.
"Then the accusations will start. 'Why is the great elder of the clan keeping something so powerful for himself?' 'Why isn't it being shared to benefit the whole clan?'" Wu Lin's voice lowered. "And if they begin thinking that… they won't see Yuan'er's talent. They'll see me as selfish. A threat to clan unity. That's why I had to step back."
Su Qing's eyes flickered, her grip on the stick loosening ever so slightly.
"I needed them to see that Yuan'er's strength is his own. That it isn't something gifted by me or hidden by me. That his growth isn't something they can replicate just by demanding a technique or a resource. What he has—his talent, his instincts, his cultivation—it's something rare. Something no elder or manual can grant."
He finished quietly, "Only then will they respect him... and stop trying to control him."
He stepped closer, voice dropping with weight. "I wanted to ensure that the entire Wu Clan stands with him, not against him. That they see him as one of their own, not as someone... different. So I had to test him publicly. And he passed—brilliantly. Now the clan is proud of him. They feel he's theirs. That's what I wanted."
Su Qing stood silently for a moment, her expression unreadable.
She looked at Wu Yuan, who had stopped rubbing his sore rear and was now staring at his father, caught off guard. Even he hadn't seen it like that.
Finally, Su Qing sighed. "You always know how to talk your way out, don't you?"
Wu Lin smiled faintly.
But…" she added, raising her stick again slightly, "if I find out this was just a clever excuse, you will be joining the horses in the stable tonight. And don't think I won't bring you dinner myself. Cold."
Wu Lin coughed. "Duly noted."
Wu Yuan muttered, "Even Father has to dodge lightning sometimes…"
Su Qing turned to him. "And you—next time you do something reckless like that, I'll make sure you can't sit for a week, understand?"
Wu Yuan quickly nodded. "Understood, Mother."
Beside Wu Yuan, Wu Xiao continued applying ointment silently, pretending very hard not to be part of the scenery.
And so, for now, Wu Yuan was safe—shielded by a father's strategy… and sore from a mother's wrath.