The Almighty Martial Arts System - Chapter 220

Jiang Fei failed to notice the odd tone in Ye Yuanyuan’s voice. His displeasure flared upon hearing none of the masterminds had been captured.

This shadowy figure wasn’t just an enemy of the Ye family—they were Jiang Fei’s mortal foe too!

Back at Qiao Yiyi’s concert in Jincheng, assassins sent by this very mastermind had nearly killed him and the pop star. Had Jiang Fei not unleashed the Li Xiaolai’s Flying Dagger technique that night, he’d be long dead.

Even now, rage simmered in him as he recalled the ambush—the two assassins, the searing pain of bullets tearing through his flesh. How could he not hate someone who’d actually tried to murder him?

Moreover, his instincts screamed that the poisoned patients at the medical conference were also linked to that mastermind.

“They’re probably colluding with Western medicine interests,” he mused. “Trying to crush TCM’s last foothold.” Otherwise, why would the Poison King risk coming to Beijing after the Jincheng incident instead of fleeing? Clearly, this wasn’t just personal vendetta—the mastermind had sanctioned it.

Yet the motive baffled him. Poisoning Old Master Ye Zhennan, sabotaging TCM—was it for wealth? Power?

Wealth seemed obvious. The TCM Society governed a pharmaceutical empire beyond public imagination. Ancient lineages like the Cui family rivaled corporations in riches. Combined, their wealth could challenge small nations.

As for power—the Society’s influence was staggering. Hundreds of members had ties to top government officials, half of whom relied on TCM doctors for healthcare. Such clout inevitably bred conflict, as seen in the Society’s decade-long leadership deadlock.

Jiang Fei scoffed at Ye Yuanyuan’s update. “Pathetic efficiency. Letting the mastermind flee abroad is bad enough, but failing to catch his lieutenant domestically? Maybe I should handle this myself—your military and police are useless!”

Ye Yuanyuan’s retort dripped ice. “Fine, you try! We’ve lost operatives chasing that monster! And…” She hesitated.

“And what?” Jiang Fei caught her uncharacteristic tension.

“…Mangguo’s been taken hostage.”

Jiang Fei blinked. “Your rich-girl BFF, Bai Mangguo?” He recalled the spoiled socialite—a diehard Qiao Yiyi fan who’d snubbed him at her birthday party. Not someone he’d mourn.

“Who else?” Ye Yuanyuan sighed.

“How? She should be in Jincheng! Why’s she involved?”

“The mastermind’s tied to that effeminate Jin Ran. Mangguo got ensnared helping him—blinded by ‘love.'” Ye Yuanyuan’s voice sharpened. “When I catch that pretty-boy traitor…”

Whether Jin Ran was complicit or manipulated like Mangguo mattered little now. He’d pay.

“Any leads on her location?” Jiang Fei pressed.

“East suburbs. Exact position unknown.”

Memories of gunshot wounds and poisoned patients flashed through Jiang Fei’s mind. “When you track them, take me along.”

Ye Yuanyuan balked. “You actually want revenge-blood?”

“Partly.” Jiang Fei’s eyes narrowed. “But there’s more here. As future TCM Society head, I need to know my enemies.”

“No.” Ye Yuanyuan was firm. “That lieutenant isn’t human—he’s a monster. We lost men armed with guns. You’d be slaughtered.”

Jiang Fei’s pulse quickened. A real martial arts expert?

Perfect.

Previously, with just Triple Cloud Leap and flawed Taiji Fist, he’d felt leagues below true masters. But now, armed with Dugu Nine Swords? Give him a blade, and few in the modern world could best him.

“The stronger the foe, the better the test,” he declared.

“…You’re serious?”

“Deadly.”

Recognizing his resolve, Ye Yuanyuan relented. “Fine. I’ll alert you before the raid.”

As they ended the call, Jiang Fei suddenly asked, “Where can I buy a proper jian sword in Beijing?”

In today’s China, even kitchen knives were regulated—but the wealthy still accessed luxuries like fencing clubs. Olympic-style gear cost over 100,000 yuan, a “gentleman’s sport” surpassing golf in exclusivity.

Ye Yuanyuan sounded puzzled. “You want a sport foil?”

“No Western fencing junk.” Jiang Fei scoffed. “I mean real Chinese longswords—the kind that kill.”

Olympic fencing, with its padded suits and safety helmets? Child’s play compared to true swordsmanship.

“You know sword arts too?” Ye Yuanyuan gaped.

“Just tell me where to train.”

Had anyone else dismissed her so brusquely, retribution would’ve followed. But for Jiang Fei, she bit her tongue. “Try the Central National Arts Institute. It’s members-only, but I’ll have Wu Ke escort you—that airport guy. He’s a sword fanatic.”

Jiang Fei disliked Wu Ke, but the offer had merit. Commissioning a custom sword was easy; finding worthy opponents wasn’t. True swordsmanship demanded specialized venues.

Still, he wondered: “Does Dugu Nine Swords even have rivals? One Shattering Blade Stance, and what swordsman could stand?”