The Way of Restraint
Chapter 94: Above Heroic Talent Lies Great Talent

"Xu Ziqiang, I'm not here this time to fight over the inheritance. I just want to see how Father is doing. Unlike you people, always scheming and groveling, obsessed with stuffing family wealth into your own pockets," Xu Ying said, clearly unimpressed by her older brother. "The things you did back then—I've just never said them out loud. If I had, Father would’ve died on the spot from rage."

"What nonsense are you spouting?" Xu Ziqiang’s expression turned visibly unnatural—clearly, Xu Ying had something on him. But then he sneered, "That was twenty years ago. It’s all water under the bridge. You don’t have any proof, so now it’s just slander. And don’t forget, in the Xu family, women are ultimately outsiders. A married daughter is like spilled water. Let’s not forget, you ran away with some man all those years ago—you disgraced the entire Xu family."

"I'm not here to argue with you today." Xu Ying was unmoved. "And I have no interest in exchanging pointless words. I’ll leave right after seeing Father. Keep a close eye on those useless younger ones of yours, and don’t use your underhanded tricks again. I won’t be responsible for what happens if you do."

"Your son’s no good to begin with." Another voice joined in—it was Xu Zide, Xu Jiahao’s father.

He hated Su Jie for beating up his son and wished he could have Su Jie arrested.

Xu Zide’s eyes were locked on Su Jie. “This little bastard has no upbringing. Comes to the Xu household and still acts up. Xu Ying, is this the son you raised? Looks like you’ve had a rough time since you ran off with that stray man. Your son turned out useless too. Regretting it now, aren’t you?"

"Ignore them," Xu Ying tugged at Su Jie. "Let’s go. We’ll see your grandfather first."

"Xu Ying, you can go—but this brat stays," said Xu Ziqiang. "Today’s a Xu family gathering. He’s not a Xu, so by our rules, he’s not allowed to attend."

"Stay here. I’ll be back soon." Xu Ying frowned.

“No way. Dad said I’m supposed to protect you,” Su Jie shook his head. “This lot’s as shady as they come. I’m better off staying close.”

Xu Ziqiang signaled, and several security guards stepped forward, trying to pull Su Jie away.

But in that moment, Su Jie made his move—swiftly striking forward.

His finger jabbed directly into a guard’s chest.

The guard dropped like a log, foaming at the mouth and convulsing violently, like he’d had an epileptic seizure.

The human body has many nerve-sensitive points. When struck with precision, they can trigger seizure-like symptoms. Su Jie had learned this from Uncle Mang during massage therapy training rooted in traditional Chinese medicine. Later, he spent a month studying under Master Ma, absorbing deeper knowledge of human nerves and integrating it into his martial arts. His current fighting style was vicious, piercing, and unrelenting.

And that wasn’t even the most terrifying part.

What was more fearsome was Su Jie’s ability to withstand blows.

He trained in iron-body techniques from the start and, through using the crystal sphere to circulate energy throughout his body, had reached mastery. Even national-level professional fighters would struggle to injure him—let alone some rent-a-cop security guards.

These guards did know some martial arts—but they were no match for professional fighters.

Their attacks on Su Jie were like scratching an itch.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Three consecutive strikes—each guard was hit square in the chest.

All three collapsed, twitching on the ground, foaming at the mouth. Some even lost control of their bladder and bowels—their nervous systems so rattled that their cerebral cortexes could no longer manage the pain response, sending them into spasms.

The other guards froze, not daring to advance.

“Unless you want to end up like them, don’t move,” Su Jie said coldly. “Just now, Teacher Huang stopped you not to protect me, but to protect you—from me. Step aside.”

“Get the riot gear, get weapons—kill this brat! He dares to commit violence here!” Xu Zide retreated behind the remaining guards. “Go call for more backup. This kid’s never been taught a lesson. Thinks he can take on a dozen people alone?”

“What the hell’s going on here? The old man’s waiting!” Another person entered the room, frowning at the scene. He glanced at Xu Ying and Su Jie with obvious disgust.

“Mom, who’s that?” Su Jie asked.

“Xu Ziming,” Xu Ying replied. “My half-brother.”

“Ziming, Xu Ying’s trying to bring an outsider into our Xu family gathering,” Xu Zide complained.

“The old man wants to see Xu Ying’s son,” Xu Ziming replied.

“You’re just going to break tradition like that?” Xu Zide still wouldn’t let it go—but he was out of moves. He glared at Xu Ying, eyes filled with malice. “Xu Ying, you better keep a close watch on that brat. If he disturbs the old man, we won’t let him off easy.”

“Don’t worry—my son has far better manners than any of yours.” Xu Ying stayed alert, knowing that Xu Zide was bound to have more schemes in store.

She knew her brothers were utterly useless at revitalizing the family—but masters at scheming, ruthless to the core.

"Your son is just a thug. I give it less than a year before he either lands in prison or ends up dead in the streets. You might as well buy him a coffin now,” Xu Zide spat venomously.

Xu Ying fired back: “My son will surpass anything the Xu family has ever produced. Your boy just eats, drinks, and chases women all day. I give him a few years before he dies on top of one.”

"Hahaha…" Xu Ziqiang and Xu Ziming looked at her like she was delusional. They couldn’t help but laugh. Xu Ziqiang said, “Xu Ying, don’t kid yourself. The old man just wants to see you for nostalgia’s sake. Once that’s done, you and your son better get out. Don’t even think about taking a blade of grass from the Xu family.”

“Mom, don’t waste words on them,” Su Jie shook his head.

“You’re right. Nothing worth saying to them anyway.” Xu Ying took Su Jie’s hand and left.

As they watched the mother and son walk away, Xu Zide muttered, “That brat is way too cocky. What do you think we should do?”

“I’ve got it handled,” Xu Ziqiang said. “Once they’ve seen the old man, he definitely won’t like them. As long as he turns a blind eye, I can take care of it. Zide, this is your job. After all, your son’s the one who got beat.”

“No problem. If Xu Ying really wants to fight for her share of the inheritance, we’ll use that brat as leverage to make her back off. But we’ll need to discuss how to divide her portion,” Xu Zide said darkly. His end goal was clearly the family fortune.

*****

In the Xu family's antique-style side hall used for council meetings, only a handful of people were allowed to sit: the old patriarch Xu Qiaomu, Master Luo, Master Ma, and Zhang Manman.

Everyone else from the second and third generations had to stand.

Those in the middle generation—Xu Ying’s peers—each had their own agendas. They all understood this was likely the day the old man would make a major decision. The presence of two renowned masters all but guaranteed it. Their opinions carried the weight of final judgment.

Even families more powerful than the Xus would consider themselves blessed to secure the counsel of either of these masters. Whether it be for major asset sales, new ventures, or make-or-break deals—these two could literally decide a family’s fate.

Put simply, a word from either of them could shift billions—or even hundreds of billions—in assets.

“Masters, the second and third generations of our Xu family are mostly here. The fourth generation is still just kids—they’re not ready for responsibility.” Xu Qiaomu seemed invigorated, eyes sharp and piercing like a crouching tiger. Clearly, he’d been a fierce man in his younger years.

“Talent comes in many levels,” Master Luo began. “For a family to soar to new heights overnight, what it needs is heroic talent—extremely rare. Next is virtuous talent, which quietly nurtures the family’s steady rise like climbing stairs—less dramatic, but equally solid. Then there’s elite talent—adept at crisis management, stabilizing the ship. Below that is basic talent—capable of maintaining the family’s holdings while grooming the next generation of virtuous or heroic talent. Then you have mediocre talent, under whose watch the family declines. Below that is foolish talent, which drags the family into chaos. And even worse…”

“What’s worse than that?” Xu Qiaomu asked.

“Debt-collectors,” said Master Luo. “These are people born to bankrupt their families. I’ve seen a few in your second and third generations. Put your estate in their hands, and you’ll end up with nothing. Forget luxury—think prison. You might not even keep your ancestral tomb intact. What do you think, Master Ma?”

“Agreed,” said Master Ma, nodding. “But actually, above heroic talent, there’s a higher level—great talent. Heroic talent means extraordinary skill, daring, and a powerful destiny. Virtuous talent brings wisdom and refinement. Elite talent is decisive and calm under pressure. But great talent…”

“And what makes someone a great talent?” Master Luo asked, straightening up.

“Great talent governs nations and maps the cosmos, holds the world in their mind, commands awe like a towering mountain, sees through the illusions of the world,” Master Ma said. “They are like the dragons in the I Ching—able to command all types of talent beneath them. Qin Shi Huang and Emperor Wu of Han were merely heroic talents. But Confucius, Mencius, Laozi, Zhuangzi, Guiguzi, and the Buddha—they were great talents.”

“Dare I ask, Master Ma, are there any elite or basic talents in my family?” Xu Qiaomu still held a sliver of hope. He didn’t even bother dreaming about great, heroic, or virtuous talents—he knew the Xu family didn’t have any.

“No great, heroic, virtuous, or elite talents,” said Master Ma. “But you do have some basic talents—and a few debt-collectors.”

“Then please point them out to me,” Xu Qiaomu’s eyes gleamed with dangerous intent.

A debt-collector in the family is the death knell for one’s ancestors. Xu Qiaomu believed this with every fiber of his being and had no intention of showing mercy.

Everyone from the second and third generations stood tense, terrified of being named. If Master Ma called you a debt-collector, your future was over—not to mention the hell your parents would catch.

“If I name them, those kids are finished,” said Master Ma. “But fate can be changed. One’s appearance stems from the heart. Even someone irredeemable can change if they sincerely reform. Their face will change accordingly. The question is whether they’ll awaken.”

“Old Ma, enough theory. Xu Qiaomu wants to pick a successor today. In a field of dwarfs, you still have to choose the tallest,” said Master Luo.

“Who’d have thought, after all my years of wisdom, my descendants would turn out so worthless?” Xu Qiaomu sighed. “Masters, if fate can be changed, I’ll spare no effort. The Xu family must not decline after I’m gone. Otherwise, I’ll have no face before my ancestors.”

Hearing all this, many in the younger generation were visibly displeased—but no one dared speak out. To offend either master meant being branded a debt-collector, losing your future, and bringing shame to your family.

At that moment, Xu Ying and Su Jie entered the room.