Urban Seduction: Housewives Club

Chapter 1690 - 0020: The Eight-Level Gale 1

Three years ago, after the incident involving the three major families, a new rule was established: every member of the three families had to train rigorously. The only time they were allowed to rest and relax was during the last three days of each month.

The women in the family trained hard, but—well, they were still women. Who doesnʼt love a good shopping trip? Even Wang Yue, who was a bit of a training fanatic, was no exception. So it came as no surprise that none of them showed up at the training grounds today.

Wang Yue didnʼt blame them for not telling him. After all, everyone looked forward to those three days off. Who couldʼve guessed heʼd forget something like that?

As for why they didnʼt invite him along—well, that was his own fault.

They used to love hanging out with him, especially Wang Yaru, who used to cling to him like glue. But earlier that year, Wang Yue—thinking he was all grown up now—decided it wasnʼt appropriate to keep spending all his time with a bunch of women. So he told them he wouldnʼt be joining them anymore.

Wang Yaru cried about it. Then Wang Yue got scolded by Wang Yue (the other one) for making her cry.

From then on, he was ”free”—left to spend his rest days alone.

At the time, he thought it was awesome. Now, looking back, he realized how dumb heʼd been. A group of beautiful women wanted to hang out with him, and he said no?

Even if they were family and off-limits, he couldʼve at least met some of their friends. After all, before the incident three years ago, they had plenty of free time—and plenty of friends.

And letʼs be real: hot girls usually hang out with other hot girls. Only the insecure ones surround themselves with less attractive friends to boost their own image.

Of course, there are exceptions—genuine friendships that cross the beauty spectrum. But those are rare.

Wang Yue usually came to the training ground just to kill time. Since today was a rest day, he wasnʼt about to sit around at home. He was still a young guy—he liked to have fun too.

But today, he had something else in mind: a trip to the Lingyun Pavilion.

The Lingyun Pavilion was a powerful and mysterious commercial organization. Rumor had it they had branches in nearly every city in the human territories, backed by multiple martial sacred grounds.

They sold everything a martial artist could want—gear, resources, even techniques and cultivation methods. But they were picky. Only martial artists could enter, and even then, access was tiered based on your clan or sect.

For example, members of the Jinling Wang family were classified as ”Earth-grade” customers. You could buy most things, but if you wanted techniques or cultivation methods, you were capped at Earth-grade mid-tier.

Thatʼs how rigid society had become. To normal people, martial artists were elite. But among martial artists, there were still clear ranks—and climbing higher was nearly impossible.

Wang Yueʼs goal today was a technique.

Techniques werenʼt as crucial as cultivation methods, but they determined how effectively you could use your power. The higher the technique, the better it channeled your qi.

The Wang familyʼs core technique, Jade-Shattering Palm, was only Earth-grade high-tier. Not bad in Jinling, but not enough for Wang Yue.

Still, finding something better at the Lingyun Pavilion was a long shot. High-tier techniques were rare and usually sent to top-tier cities. Jinling, being only a first-tier city, rarely saw anything above Earth-grade.

In fact, over the years, none of the three major families had ever managed to buy a technique above Earth-grade high-tier. Thatʼs why they treated even mid-tier techniques like treasures.

But Wang Yue remembered something: a technique with no rank.

It had no name, no weapon requirement—just one simple move. But when it first appeared, it caused a huge stir.

It came from a secret realm, discovered by a legendary cultivator who had transcended the mortal realm. Even he couldnʼt unlock its full power, so he released it to the world, hoping someone worthy would find it.

Every major faction bought a copy. No one became the ”chosen one,” but they did notice something: the stronger your cultivation and the purer your qi, the more powerful the move became.

So people concluded: the techniqueʼs power scaled with your level and qi purity. It was multiplicative.

But hereʼs the thing—cultivation methods differ in speed and ceiling, but the purity of qi they produce isnʼt that different. Even heaven-grade methods only produce qi thatʼs slightly purer than earth-grade ones.

So even top-tier cultivators could only make the move as strong as an Earth-grade low-tier technique. And since it was just one move, its value dropped below even Yellow-grade techniques.

But Wang Yue was different.

After his first dual cultivation with Xue Yan, his qi became several times purer. And after more sessions with her and Chen Rong, it had doubled again.

If the rumors were true, this technique was practically made for him—and the women he cultivated with.

The Wang family had bought a copy back in the day. His grandfather tried it once, then tossed it aside. Now, no one knew where it was.

And since no one wanted it anymore, the price had dropped to basically nothing. Better to just buy a new copy than dig through old storage.

Wang Yue strolled into the estateʼs garage, picked the smallest floater at random, and drove off solo—no maids, no entourage.

These machines were the love-children of tech and cultivation: a beast-core from a slain spirit-beast sat where an engine used to be, fed through nested gravity arrays that lifted the chassis a foot off the pavement.

Performance? Worse than a twenty-year-old Honda and costlier than a Beverly Hills mansion. Swap the core once and youʼve basically paid for enough gas to run a pickup from here to the heat-death of the universe.

But thatʼs not the point. The point is everyone **knows** you can afford to burn money for style.

As the only living male heir of the Wang family—still one of Jinlingʼs Big Three—Wang Yueʼs face is on every gossip feed in the city. Even if he showed up in a rickshaw, no one would mistake him for a commoner, so the whole ”hidden-dragon-among-peasants” fantasy is dead on arrival.

Might as well lean into it. Flashy car equals open lanes. Civilians see the crest on the hood and instinctively pull over; thatʼs the unspoken social contract between mortals and martial artists.

He isnʼt cruel, isnʼt some playground bully, but he was born on the top floor of the privilege high-rise. Expecting him to channel the struggles of the street before lifeʼs kicked him in the teeth a few times? Not happening.