Trouble

Strolling down Crock Street—though it bore the name "street," it was far from a single thoroughfare; rather, it referred to the entire slum district within Lin'an County City.

Lin'an County, though merely a county seat, was vast in area, even larger than a prefecture-level city from his past life, teeming with people from all walks of life, a motley mix of dragons and snakes.

The slums meant filth, chaos, and squalor, so Lin'an County paid them little heed. Even the Prefectural Office only assigned a handful of constables here, nominally to keep order but in truth just to skim what they could.

This naturally led to poor public security—"chaotic" wouldn't be an overstatement.

Fights and brawls were common; as long as no one died, the government office couldn't be bothered to intervene.

Thus, Crock Street was largely controlled by various gangs.

They made their living by collecting protection fees and monopolizing street-side businesses.

Lin Sheng had long grown accustomed to the mix of foul odors hanging in the air.

Cries of vendors occasionally rang out through the streets; though it was just the city's slums, there was still a lively atmosphere.

After all, even the slums were better off than the villages outside—at least here, people could scrape together a living and put food on the table.

Lin Sheng wove through the crowd, buying some meat at the market. This time, he didn't just pick up pork offal; he rarely chose lean cuts instead, figuring they needed a change in diet. Remembering that his parents' clothes were patched all over, he also went to a cloth shop and bought two bolts of fabric before heading off with his purchases toward Lin Hong.

His father, Lin Hong, was lame in one leg and couldn't afford a stall fee on the main street, so he sold his goods in a remote corner of Crock Street.

Lin Sheng carried pork on his shoulder, held some polished rice in his hand, and tucked coarse cloth under his arm as he turned into a small alley off the main street. Few people were around, and this was exactly where Lin Hong set up his stall.

Business here was naturally poor, but the upside was fewer hassles—no protection fees or stall rents to worry about.

In Lin Sheng's memory, besides Lin Hong, only two or three other stalls were in this alley, run by white-haired elders.

But just as he turned into the alley, he heard a shout.

"You old bastards have been selling here long enough—time to pay up on stall fees. If you can't cough up five coppers today, I'll flip your stalls myself."

Hearing the shout, Lin Sheng frowned slightly.

He quickened his pace, since Lin Hong was lame and slow-moving; if a conflict broke out, he'd definitely end up at a disadvantage.

Rounding the corner, he saw several men gathered around the small stalls in the alley.

Leading them was a tall, gaunt man with a sharp face and a monkey-like look, holding an apple in one hand as he scanned the stalls and cursed impatiently.

"Sir, this alley isn't part of Crock Street's main lane—it shouldn't... shouldn't be subject to stall fees, should it?"

Near the back of the alley, in front of a stall about a meter square, Lin Hong spoke with a troubled expression.

"That's right—we're either old or injured. Sir, please have mercy and don't make things hard for us old folks..."

The other stall owners quickly chimed in to back him up.

"Nonsense! If I let you off easy, what am I supposed to eat and drink? I'm laying it out plain today: if you want to set up here, it's five coppers a month from now on. Miss a single cent, and I'll write my name backward—Dog Lord, that is."

Hearing this, Lin Hong and the other stall owners' faces turned grim. They tried to speak again, but Dog Lord cut them off.

"Enough talk. If you can't fork over five coppers, fine—we'll just take everything from your stalls. That'll cover your fees for the next two months."

"You got it, Brother Dog."

The three men besides the skinny monkey grinned and rolled up their sleeves, ready to sweep all the assorted goods off the stalls.

Seeing they were about to act, the stall owners finally couldn't stay still.

It wasn't that their stalls held much of value, but what little they had was worth far more than five coppers—they couldn't just watch their belongings get taken.

"Wait... we'll pay! We'll pay right now."

The stall owners, hearts aching, fumbled in their pockets and scraped together five coppers each.

Before they could even steady the coins, the monkey-like Dog Lord snatched them away.

He jingled them in his hand, then grinned.

"Had to show you old geeks a little color, or you'd forget your place."

His gaze then fell on Lin Hong.

"Old cripple, you're the only one left."

Among the stall owners, only Lin Hong hadn't moved.

He could grit his teeth and come up with five coppers if he had to.

But ever since his leg injury, the family's situation had gone downhill. After a month of hard work at his stall, he barely netted eight or nine coppers. Handing over five at once was hard to swallow—especially since it would be five every month.

Lin Hong opened his mouth to say something, but a voice beat him to it.

"We'll pay the five coppers."

With that, Lin Sheng stepped forward, pulled five coppers from his pocket without hesitation, and tossed them to Dog Lord.

"Ah-Sheng..."

Seeing Lin Sheng, Lin Hong froze for a moment, then started to speak, but Lin Sheng cut him off.

"Dad, paying stall fees is only right. No need to say more. Pack up—let's head home."

Lin Sheng smiled, and without waiting for a reply, began packing up Lin Hong's stall.

"So you're the old man's son. Smart move."

The Dog Lord caught the large coin, turning it over in his hand as he looked at Lin Sheng with a somewhat amused expression.

He only paused briefly when he noticed the meat and fine rice in the young man's hands.

Lin Sheng moved quickly, and since Lin Hong's stall didn't have much to it, he rolled it up in just a few breaths, then helped Lin Hong out of the alley.

Watching the two figures disappear into the distance, several big men crowded around Brother Dog.

"Brother Dog, that old cripple really knows how to play poor. That kid just now was carrying pork, fine rice, and even two bolts of cloth—just that stuff alone must be worth at least a tael of silver."

"No shit, you think I'm blind? Didn't expect there was still some oil to squeeze out of this shithole."

Brother Dog toyed with the few large coins in his hand, a naked greed spreading across his face.

"Third Brother, tail him and see where this kid lives."

"You got it, Brother Dog."

Hearing this, a man in gray grinned and hurried off.

"Boss, we just took over this turf. The big boss told us to keep a low profile. That kid looks like he's got some money—could he have connections?"

One of the younger thugs hesitated.

But before he could finish, Brother Dog cut him off.

"Connections? If he had connections, would he be living in a dump like this? Would he be setting up a stall here? Let me tell you, on Crock Street, there's no one this Dog Lord doesn't dare touch."

Brother Dog's face twisted into a cold sneer.

"Get more silver. In a couple of days, I'll take you boys to Osmanthus Lane in the city for some fun..."

"Thanks, Brother Dog! Thanks, Brother Dog!"

Hearing this, the younger thugs' minds wandered to something, and one by one, lecherous grins spread across their faces.