Black Tiger Hall

"Old Man Zhang?"

Lin Zhao raised an eyebrow, his fingers unconsciously resting on the sword hilt at his waist—he had heard Li Yue mention the former owner of this Blacksmith Shop when he rented the place, but he had never expected the man to dump this mess into his lap.

"No wonder the rent was suspiciously cheap. So he already knew Black Stone Alley was anything but peaceful." Lin Zhao sneered inwardly, his gaze sweeping over the murky street outside.

The outer city of Lanting Holy City had always been a cesspool that hid filth and corruption. There were more gangs than stray dogs by the roadside, while most of the Oirat yamen runners were barely newcomers to the Body Tempering Realm. When they ran into anyone tough, they did not even dare fart. How could they possibly bother with these lousy affairs?

To put it bluntly, the authorities were deliberately turning a blind eye!

The slum dwellers of the outer city made up more than half of Lanting City's population. Only by keeping them busy fighting gangs, fighting hunger, and being bullied by the thugs of Ge Gate among the "Eight Secret Gates" until they could not lift their heads could they be made into obedient subjects.

The gentry of the middle city and the nobles of the inner city sat high above and watched the show. Only then could they securely control Oirat's military resources and wealth and live in peace—Lin Zhao had seen through that long ago in Northern Garrison City.

When he stepped out of the shop and had barely turned the corner, he ran into two groups hacking at each other with machetes. Blood streamed across the ground, dyeing the bluestone slabs red;

A ragged peddler was also surrounded by several hooligans who were robbing him. He did not even dare cry for help.

Who would have thought that trouble would come knocking the moment he rented the shop? His luck was a little too good.

"I am the new tenant of this shop. If you want your usual dues, go find the former owner, Old Man Zhang. I already paid my rent." Lin Zhao folded his arms, his tone calm. He deliberately made his Oirat clumsy, putting on the air of an outsider.

Over the past few days, he had learned some Oirat common speech from Li Yue, just enough to handle a situation like this.

"Outsider?" The scar-faced man sneered and savagely kicked the shop's wooden pillar, shaking splinters loose in a shower.

The lackeys behind him joined in the jeering, smacking their wooden clubs against their palms with sharp pops. "So many outsiders come to the outer city every day. One more or one less makes no difference!"

"Tenant or owner, who gives a damn? The ground of Black Stone Alley belongs to Black Tiger Hall! If you do business here, you pay me the usual dues!" The scar-faced man stroked the curved blade at his waist, his eyes as vicious as a starving wolf. "Hand over the money if you know what's good for you, or don't blame me for getting rough!"

Those lackeys immediately surrounded him. Every one of them had crooked brows and slanted eyes, without the slightest fluctuation of vitality and blood about them—they had not even crossed the threshold into the Body Tempering Realm. They were nothing but street rats who knew how to bully ordinary people.

Lin Zhao's heart did not stir in the slightest. He even found it a little boring. Killing trash like this would not earn him anything, and it would only leave him covered in trouble. It was simply not worth it.

But this was Oirat. There were still pedestrians on the street in broad daylight. If he exposed his strength and drew the attention of those nobles' informants, things would get troublesome.

Lin Zhao glanced around. The doors and windows of the neighboring homes were shut tight, but eyes filled every crack in the windows. He sighed and took out ten copper coins from his robe, offering them over.

Smack!

The scar-faced man swatted the coins away. They struck the wall, bounced back, and rolled to Lin Zhao's feet, coated in black mud. "Are you fucking begging off a beggar? You dare offer copper coins?" Spittle flew from his mouth as he pointed at Lin Zhao's nose and cursed. "Don't think being tall makes you something special! My hall master, 'Black Tiger Yama,' is a genuine Peak Martial Master!"

"Last time, some Martial Master who didn't know his place dared refuse the usual dues. Hall Master crushed his wrist with one hand, then tore him straight in half! His guts spilled all over the ground. Want to end up like him?" The scar-faced man grew more smug with every word, puffing out his chest as though Black Tiger Yama's name could frighten everyone in the world. "Now you know the rules, right?"

Lin Zhao suppressed the anger in his heart—a Peak Martial Master?

He did have some skill, but not enough to make Lin Zhao afraid.

No emotion showed on his face. He merely smiled and asked, "I have only just arrived and do not understand the rules. May I ask how many silver coins the monthly dues are?" He had thought ten copper coins were already quite a lot. This shop's monthly rent was only one silver coin, yet these bastards really dared to open their mouths like lions.

"Since you're new, I won't make things difficult for you. One silver coin a month, and your shop will stay safe." The scar-faced man held out one finger, his tone unbearably arrogant.

Lin Zhao paused, then took out a silver coin from his robe—one of the few silver coins left in his traveling funds—and handed it over. Then he bent down and picked up the copper coins from the ground one by one.

The scar-faced man accepted the silver and weighed it in his hand, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. He had originally intended to beat Lin Zhao into submission, but seeing how compliant he was, he could not be bothered to waste the effort.

"Good, you know what's good for you!" The scar-faced man tucked the silver into his robes and shouted to the lackeys behind him, "Brothers, move!" Then he turned toward the neighbors' doors and windows and roared, "What are you staring at? Get back to work! Anyone who can't pay the usual dues next month, the hall master's Tiger Claw won't show mercy!"

The eyes in the window cracks vanished without a trace.

Everyone in Black Stone Alley knew the vicious reputation of Black Tiger Yama. The hard martial art he practiced had already reached its peak. His claws could easily tear apart refined iron. Not long ago, a Martial Master from a rival gang had come looking for trouble, only to be torn alive by him. The corpse had been thrown at the alley entrance and stank for three days—no one dared provoke that baleful god.

Lin Zhao watched the scar-faced man and his group leave, his gaze turning cold.

He found a secluded, dilapidated courtyard, changed out of his long robe and into coarse short clothes, then quietly followed them. He trailed them all the way to a shabby storefront bearing the sign of Azure Jade Tavern.

The door curtain was stained with grease. Through it, he could vaguely see more than a dozen men drinking with blades in hand, dark-red blood scabs still clinging to the hilts—this was Black Tiger Hall's stronghold.

After memorizing the location, Lin Zhao turned and returned to the Blacksmith Shop, picking up his hammer to continue forging.

He knew perfectly well that even if he wiped out Black Tiger Hall now, within three days other gangs would be scrambling to occupy this street. The usual dues would still have to be paid.

Moreover, these gangs surely had middle-city gentry or inner-city nobles backing them. They might even be managing underground dealings for the powerful. Acting now would only create branches from a tree that had not yet grown straight.

"Black Tiger Hall, Black Tiger Yama..." Lin Zhao tightened his grip on the hammer until his knuckles turned white. "I'll put this debt on the ledger for now. Once I gather the materials and earn enough travel money, I'll make you understand what happens when you provoke the wrong man!"

Over the following days, the Blacksmith Shop reopened.

Lin Zhao displayed some ordinary iron sabers and spears in the shop, all goods suitable for Body Tempering Realm martial artists, meant to fool the eye.

Once he closed up at night, he shut himself in the back room, set up the furnace, and began forging the truly good stuff.

The fire in the furnace burned crimson, casting Lin Zhao's face in a bright red glow.

The iron hammer in his hand weighed thirty pounds. Every swing tore through the air with a dull whoosh, each strike landing precisely on the seam between cold iron and refined iron. Sparks leapt half a foot high, dazzlingly bright in the dim room.

He had bought this cold iron from Xuan Yao Pavilion. It came from an Ore Vein in the snowy mountains of the Northern Frontier and was hard enough to withstand the blade of a Peak Martial Master. But it was too brittle by nature and needed seventy-two rounds of forging before it could fuse with refined iron.

After working for a full seven days, a suit of scale armor was finally completed.

The Armor Plates interlocked layer upon layer, clinging to his body like fish scales and gleaming with a cold, ghostly light.

Lin Zhao put it on to test it and swung his long sword. Aside from being slightly heavy, it was fairly flexible—its defense was stronger than even the Dragon Pattern Armor worn by Border Army Captains. Even a full-force strike from a Peak Martial Master might not break through it.

"Selling weapons alone won't make much money. In this world, armor that can keep you alive is the real hard currency." Lin Zhao patted the Armor Plates, producing crisp clangs, and an idea formed in his mind—this Mystic Iron Silver Scale Armor had to be sent to Xuan Yao Pavilion for auction. It would certainly fetch a fine price.

Inside the Drunken Immortal Residence tavern in the middle city, the light was dim, and the air carried the fragrance of wine and roasted meat.

Wearing a Gilded Mask, Lin Zhao pushed open the door and walked in. The shopkeeper's eyes lit up when he saw the iron plaque in Lin Zhao's hand—the words "Heavenly Craft" were engraved upon it, proof that he was a distinguished guest of Xuan Yao Pavilion.

The shopkeeper hurriedly lifted a hidden door to the back hall and led Lin Zhao inside, shouting as he walked, "Steward! Master Heavenly Craft has arrived!"

A middle-aged man in brocade robes hurried forward. His gaze fell on Lin Zhao's mask, then swept over the armor in his hand. His voice carried reverence as he said, "Are you Master Heavenly Craft? I have long admired your name!"

"I am. I wish to consign this suit of armor for sale." Lin Zhao tossed the armor onto the ground. The colliding Armor Plates let out a muffled boom like rolling thunder, making even the floor tremble.

"This armor is called the Mystic Iron Silver Scale Armor. It was forged from refined iron mixed with half a pound of Northern Frontier cold iron and hammered seventy-two times. It is one of my proudest works in recent years." Lin Zhao lowered his voice and deliberately emphasized "hammered seventy-two times"—there was not another craftsman in all of Lanting City capable of such work.

The steward hurriedly crouched down and carefully lifted the armor. His fingers traced the forging marks between the plates, and he sucked in a sharp breath. "Seventy-two rounds of forging! Master, your craftsmanship truly lives up to its reputation!" He looked up at Lin Zhao, his tone becoming even more respectful. "Rest assured, Master. Our pavilion's auctioneers know quality when they see it. We will certainly secure you a good price!"

Lin Zhao knew the score—the material cost of this armor alone exceeded two hundred taels. With his craftsmanship added in, selling it for over two thousand taels would be no problem at all.

Peak Martial Masters lacked this kind of life-saving protective gear the most. Xuan Yao Pavilion would surely spread word among the powerful martial artists of Lanting Holy City. When the time came, there would be no shortage of people fighting over it.

While he waited for the steward to register it, Lin Zhao went to the bounty section.

There had been no trace of Netherworld Grass in Northern Garrison City. Perhaps this foremost martial-material pavilion in the Oirat capital might have some clues.

This Xuan Yao Pavilion was Oirat's headquarters. Rumor had it that the appraisal master stationed here was an expert at the Peak Martial Master level, so its hidden stock was surely plentiful.

As usual, he posted a commission to purchase Netherworld Grass. Then he browsed the martial art manuals section. He did not find anything particularly impressive, but in a corner, he discovered a copy of the Green Falcon Body Tempering Technique.

Lin Zhao flipped through a few pages, and his eyes lit up—this technique was actually the signature skill of Li Cangying, who had once been trampled to death by a Pangolin Dragon!

He had searched for it for a long time in Northern Garrison City without finding it, yet he had unexpectedly come across it here.

This technique contained twenty-five illustrated forms, specializing in movement techniques and eagle-claw strength. Though its path for circulating vitality and blood was rather basic, it was extremely solid. It was among the finest of the Lower Grade techniques, far stronger than ordinary body-tempering arts, second only to the Blood Poison Spider Technique, which could achieve Bone Forging and Meridian Opening.

"This is the one." Lin Zhao took out one hundred taels of silver and handed them to the clerk, tucked the manual into his robes, then turned and left Xuan Yao Pavilion.

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly beneath the mask—the technique was in hand, and the armor would soon be sold. Next, he only needed to wait for word from Xuan Yao Pavilion, gather the remaining materials, and then he could cultivate in peace.

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