Urban Seduction: Housewives Club Chapter 2174 - 495: The Bond of Blood 3

Wang Yue harbored no special desire to curry favor with the Kaifeng Wang clan, yet this location was utterly unsuitable for a confidential conversation. He promptly followed Wang Qing into the estate without a second thought.

En route, they exchanged the standard pleasantries. The moment they entered the opulent receiving hall and sat down, Wang Yue dove right in. "Patriarch Wang, I’ve come today because I’m hoping you can do me a favor."

"Anything, brother. Don’t hold back," Wang Qing declared with a hearty hand gesture. "As long as it’s within the Wang family’s power, your ’big brother’ here won’t refuse."

"The Wang family rules over Kaifeng, so your intel network must be unmatched," Wang Yue stated directly. "Does Patriarch Wang know the precise whereabouts of the Yang family?"

Wang Qing’s face changed subtly. He lowered his tone instinctively and jabbed a finger upward at the roof. "Are you referring to that Yang family?"

"Precisely. The Holy Land Yangs," Wang Yue confirmed with a nod.

"I’ve got dealings with them, but I only know they’re around Kaifeng somewhere. The details escape me, so I’m seeking your help. Naturally, I won’t ask you to labor without reward. Locate them, and I’ll reward the Wang family with a top-tier Earth-grade martial technique."

"Ah... I’m afraid I must let you down, brother," Wang Qing replied with a bitter grin. "I’m aware they’re in the area, but truthfully, I have no idea of their exact spot. It’s an utter enigma."

The offer genuinely tempted Wang Qing. A top-tier Earth-grade technique wasn’t commonplace.

Securing such a treasure merely for revealing a location would be an enormous boon. Yet, as he admitted, he truly lacked the knowledge. Despite craving the prize, fulfillment was beyond him.

"Are they truly so elusive?" Wang Yue murmured, feeling let down.

Wang Qing sighed in unison. "Apologies, brother. Direct aid is beyond me. Still, you could inquire among the other major clans. No matter their ’Holy Land’ status, they can’t survive in isolation. Someone in town must trade with them discreetly. After all, respect stems from strength, not invisibility. Their hideout won’t remain a guarded secret indefinitely."

"I’d prefer to avoid the trouble of approaching various parties," Wang Yue answered. "As an outsider in Kaifeng, I entrust this to you, Patriarch Wang. No matter the source, once verified, the Earth-grade technique is yours."

This matched precisely what Wang Qing hoped for. Uncovering an address required merely tapping the proper contact; the expense to him paled against a top-tier technique’s worth.

He’d mentioned other families only to dodge seeming overly eager, but with Wang Yue fine with him as intermediary, refusal was off the table.

Having settled that Wang Qing would alert him upon obtaining news, Wang Yue turned down a dinner invitation and returned to the city solo.

Though an ancient capital, Kaifeng—like all cities—saw its historic structures erased in the Great Cataclysm of spiritual revival. Remaining "ancient ruins" were mere contemporary recreations.

Tourist sites held no appeal for Wang Yue, but with the inquiry delegated to Wang Qing, idleness loomed. Lingering in his hotel wasn’t an option all day.

Thus, he shifted forms once more—this time into "Wang Tiezhu," an utterly commonplace face lost in any throng—and roamed without purpose.

He meandered markets, ear tuned to vendors’ and shoppers’ barters. He paused to observe elders chess-playing beneath leafy canopies. For midday meal, he grabbed a seat at a curbside eatery, savoring regional snacks laced with noon blaze and urban grit.

The outing began from ennui, yet plunging into the "mortal realm," he slid into that transcendent mindset from Chen Yingying’s lesson.

Swiftly, epiphanies bloomed across diverse principles. This, he surmised, echoed the ancient sages’ "tempering the heart in the red dust."

Come afternoon, mid-wander, a sharp instinct struck—a fateful tug, like an unseen cord yanking his spirit.

Guided by the sensation, Wang Yue glanced aside. At a close street bend stood a modest hardware and miscellany store. A compact van idled outside, with three figures offloading boxes.

Two men sported "Dafa Wholesale Co."-stamped coveralls—obvious couriers. The third, a young woman, appeared tied to the store.

Clad in worn grayish-blue jeans and a dark baseball cap, she hauled boxes with remarkable swiftness, her gender barely discernible afar.

Mid-August scorched fiercely. In thick denim amid strenuous toil, sweat soaked the girl. Loose hair strands clung to her moistened face below the cap.

She seemed plain at first—devoid of heiress poise, yet radiating sturdy diligence. In a beauty-fixated era, such traits seldom shone.

Wang Yue’s gaze, however, pierced far deeper. Instantly, he discerned the astonishing allure concealed—maybe deliberately muted—under dirt and loose garb.

Still, her looks rivaling Jinling’s "Twelve Beauties" weren’t why he halted. It was the vibe she exuded.

He recalled encountering Zhou Pinpin and Zhou Tingting aboard the Tianhai-bound vessel—a instant blood bond, familial tie.

Post-dual cultivation with his mother, that perception had intensified markedly. This girl stirred not mere kinship, but a profound, intimate lineage link.

This puzzled him deeply. No Wang or Su kin were known in the Central Plains. Sole tie was aunt Su Mengchen, wed into the Yangs.

Guided by instinct, Wang Yue lingered.

The van completed delivery and departed, prompting Wang Yue toward the store.

"Welcome! Need help finding anything?" Spotting a patron, the girl advanced promptly. Speaking, she swiped sweat with her gloved hand’s back, smearing fresh streaks on her grimy cheeks.

That unpretentious act tugged at Wang Yue’s chest. Intentional or routine, she masked her radiance clearly.

What maiden shuns prettiness? Yet without strength to shield such splendor, it curses. It revealed a prideful soul; her features could’ve secured a lavish keeper effortlessly.

Crossing the threshold, his sight snagged on a card affixed to the glass. His pulse raced anew.

The sign stated: Cancan Hardware & Sundries. Manager: Yang Cancan.

"Are you the owner?" Wang Yue queried, verifying his hunch.

The girl beamed. "Yes, indeed. This is my place. I’m Yang Cancan. Big orders? We offer delivery."

Verified. Yang surname too. Was fate so tight-knit?

Might she be his aunt’s child? Early twenties fit; early marriage aligned timelines flawlessly.

Concealing musings, Wang Yue responded offhand, "I’m renovating home. Just browsing for useful tools."