Chapter Eighty-Two: All Who Come Shall Kneel

Hui Shi Garden of the Song family could be divided into many smaller sections, each a separate courtyard. Among them, Qingfeng Garden was reserved for ordinary guests, while Shengding Garden belonged to the inner residence, accommodating family members and those who were either close friends or of significant importance—a touch of the sentiment, “If you blossom, the breeze will come of its own accord.” The two gardens were separated only by a small river, with a broad stone bridge as the sole pathway between them.

When Jiang An and his family arrived by car at the bridge, another four-wheeled electric vehicle, identical to theirs, was coming from the direction of the inner residence. A young man with a small braid tied at the back of his head sat inside. The moment he saw Jiang An and his party, he immediately began to mock them.

His harsh words made Song Qiuke’s cheeks flush red with anger. She scolded, “Cousin, you’ve gone too far! Second Sister is a member of the Song family; she has every right to stay in Shengding Garden. Move aside at once!”

The braided youth looked Jiang An’s family up and down, ordered his driver not to move, and said with a smirk, “I refuse. What will you do about it? Cry? Hey, you—be a man and don’t let the girls speak for you!”

It could not have been clearer that his jibes were directed straight at Jiang An.

“Daddy, what’s wrong? That uncle is so mean!” Little Xixi, nestled in Song Qiuke’s arms, seemed to recall something unpleasant and waved her tiny hands as she asked.

Jiang An’s face remained calm and impassive. “If you’ve got the guts, get out of the car,” he said coolly.

“Oh? Do you think you can hit me? Do you know what happens to those who assault a direct male descendant of the Song family?” The braided youth laughed boisterously and stepped out, walking to the front of his car, still grinning. “Come on, let’s see if you’ve got the guts. Otherwise, you’re just a coward!”

“Brother-in-law, don’t! No fighting is allowed in Hui Shi Garden. If you hit him, you’ll bring serious trouble!” Song Qiuke, aware of the consequences, hurried to dissuade him.

Song Wanshuang stood by, her expression dark, saying nothing.

“I’m a civilized man. Why would I hit him—especially since Cousin here will be kneeling to apologize to us shortly,” Jiang An replied with a slight smile, remaining in place.

“What the hell, he’s crazy!” The braided youth was taken aback, but then scowled in amusement. “I’d like to see how you’ll make me kneel. If you can’t, you’ll be the one on your knees!”

Jiang An ignored him, instead lifting Xixi into his arms and gently saying, “Xixi, how about Daddy shows you some magic? Hold out your hand.”

“Okay!” Xixi obediently stretched out her fair, delicate little hand.

“Point at that fierce uncle. Then, say ‘one, two, three, kneel!’ and that uncle will do as you say.”

“Really?” Xixi’s eyes sparkled at the prospect of a game.

“Of course it’s true. Xixi knows magic.”

“Yes, Xixi is going to do magic!” Taking it seriously, Xixi pointed her finger at the braided youth, mimicked a few gestures she’d seen in cartoons, and declared, “Hey! One, two, three, crack!”

The child mispronounced “kneel,” saying “crack” instead.

The braided youth was baffled, about to flare up at being made a joke of in front of a child, when suddenly, at Xixi’s clear command, there was a thud—he dropped to his knees, stiff as a board.

Everyone nearby stared in disbelief. Had they just witnessed a prolonged provocation only to end in him kneeling before the others?

“Sister, brother-in-law, what’s happening?” Song Qiuke turned, dumbfounded.

Xixi, momentarily stunned, glanced at her own hand, then clapped and exclaimed, “Daddy, Xixi really can do magic! Look, look!”

Jiang An only smiled, saying nothing.

The braided youth’s driver, half bodyguard, sensed something was wrong. He rushed out to help, but no matter how he pulled, the youth remained kneeling. Was he paralyzed? The driver, evidently trained in martial arts, tried various techniques to revive him, but all to no avail. Desperate, he shot Jiang An a look, then suddenly produced a whistle from his pocket and blew it sharply.

Astonishingly, as the whistle sounded, heavy footsteps echoed, and a dozen or so burly, cold-faced men in grey surged forth from all directions.

“Who blew the whistle?” the leader demanded coldly.

“This man attacked a direct male descendant. Arrest him and hand him over to the Elders’ Council!” the driver shouted.

The leader glanced at the still-kneeling braided youth, whose face was frozen in a half-angry, half-shocked expression—a ludicrous sight. Like the driver, he tried to revive the youth with various techniques, but nothing worked. What puzzled him most was that none of the youth’s pressure points were blocked.

“Come with us!” he ordered, turning toward Jiang An and his group.

“We can’t go to the Elders’ Council! Which of you saw us raise a hand?” Song Qiuke instinctively blocked their way, protesting.

“Rules are rules. We are the enforcers of those rules,” the leader replied in a voice devoid of emotion.

“You—!”

“If you won’t come willingly, you’ll be taken by force. Bring them all to the Elders’ Council,” he commanded, and his men prepared to use force.

“Enough noise. You all kneel as well,” Jiang An said impatiently. As soon as the words left his lips, they became law. The driver and every enforcer immediately felt the same compulsion as the braided youth and dropped to their knees in unison, as if in worship.

What was happening?

The scene was so extraordinary that a crowd quickly gathered. Just then, a group forced their way through, led by an elder—Song Qing.

“What’s going on here?” Song Qing called out.

Seeing that one of the family stewards had arrived, Song Qiuke’s expression changed, and she hurried to explain, “Elder Qing, here’s what happened…”

“Chengde!” Song Qing caught sight of the kneeling youth, Song Chengde, and though a thrill flashed in his heart, he put on an anxious front and shouted, “It’s clear what’s happened: willful assault and humiliation of a Song family male, and violent resistance against the enforcers! No more discussion. Seize them all and take them to the Elders’ Council for punishment!”

“Yes, sir!” At Song Qing’s order, a second group of enforcers pushed through the crowd, drawing their guns and aiming at Jiang An and his family.

“No, that’s not it—it’s not like that, it’s—” Song Qiuke shouted in panic, but her voice was drowned by the uproar.

“An explanation? Yes, there must be one,” Jiang An murmured. He had meant to give the Song family some face, but they refused to accept it. Even a clay figurine can feel anger—how much more an immortal? Whoever was behind this wanted to stir up trouble. Fine, let it be as they wish. Let no one blame him for being ruthless.

“All of you, kneel!” The twenty-some enforcers advanced in a crescent, but at a thought from Jiang An, the Heavenly Gate Art was unleashed. Without exception, they all dropped to their knees.

This was too much. Anyone who approached seemed compelled to kneel, as if under some sorcery.

The onlookers instinctively stepped back, leaving Song Qing exposed. Though somewhat embarrassed, he showed no fear. Instead, he laughed loudly, “Well, villain, do you really think the Song family is powerless? Does a grandmaster dare run wild here? Then don’t blame us if—ah!”

As he spoke, Jiang An waved his hand gently. A fierce wind swept up Song Qing and dumped him into the river for a bath.

“Anyone else unconvinced? Step forward,” Jiang An said, his gaze sweeping the crowd. The aura he emitted soared sky-high, like a towering mountain, so oppressive that none could breathe.

A grandmaster! Only a grandmaster could emanate such presence!

The crowd was aghast, no one daring to meet his eyes.

“Impressive nerve, making trouble in the Song family. Let me face you!” A powerful voice resounded, as another formidable presence arose in defiance. A figure shot toward them at blinding speed.

A Song family grandmaster?

Jiang An smiled, and said softly to Song Wanshuang, “My dear, since others will not make room for us, I have no choice but to turn hostile. I hope you won’t mind.”

Song Wanshuang’s expression was bleak, her heart chilled, but what could she say? Forcing a smile, she replied, “I am not of the Song family. I am of the Jiang family.”

One sentence said it all.

Jiang An nodded, his gaze growing sharp. It seemed another grandmaster would fall to his hand today.

“Stop!” As the clash was about to erupt, a black shadow flashed from the inner residence, swiftly positioning itself between Jiang An and the onrushing Song grandmaster. The figure halted—a portly elder with half-black, half-white hair.

“The Chief Steward!”

“It’s the Song family’s Chief Steward, a famed grandmaster: Yin-Yang Hand, Song Qi!”

“Yes, and the one who challenged him just now is Mysterious Hand, Song Yuan!”

“The family’s foundation is truly profound—two grandmasters appear without effort!”

“Terrifying!”

The onlookers murmured, some well-informed enough to identify the newcomers.

“Seventh Master, may I handle this now?” Song Qi, the portly elder, addressed the other formidable Song grandmaster, Song Yuan.

Song Yuan studied Jiang An deeply, then nodded to Song Qi. “Uncle Qi, as Chief Steward, this is your domain. I’ll withdraw. Just make sure not to disgrace the Song family in front of our guests.”

With that, Song Yuan turned and left.

Song Qi then bowed to Song Wanshuang and Jiang An. “Second Miss, Mr. Jiang, please contain your anger. As Chief Steward, I promise you will have an explanation.”

As he spoke, his gaze lingered on Jiang An. Others might not know this man’s true power, but he did. If this god of slaughter were provoked, even if the Song family ultimately prevailed, the price would be terrible.

Very well, he’d be given a chance.

Hearing this, Jiang An withdrew his aura, awaiting Song Qi’s handling of the matter.