"Idiot!"
Smack!
With a resounding slap, Meng HaiCheng fell to the ground.
Blood mixed with broken teeth dripped down, while the dust on the ground clung grayly to his body. Along with the blood-soaked bandage around his neck, it made him look utterly wretched.
Yet Meng HaiCheng did not even dare breathe heavily. He hurriedly crawled up and knelt on the ground, his forehead covered in cold sweat.
This was a fairly large blacksmith shop.
In the courtyard outside stood a row of battered smithing furnaces. Their flames glowed crimson, with iron scraps and coal scattered across the ground. A group of men worked bare-chested, bringing down hammers of all sizes in alternating blows.
Clang! Clang! Bang! Bang!
Amid the shrill clanging of metal, sparks flew in all directions.
In the inner courtyard, a group of men in assorted clothes, their bodies covered in tattoos, either stood or squatted. Under the dim candlelight, each face looked savage.
The air was thick with the intertwined stench of sweat, tobacco, and the sour reek of clothes that had gone unwashed for days. It was nauseating.
This was the Iron Saber Gang's headquarters.
At the top of the steps in the inner courtyard, a man sat in a grand chair.
He was exceptionally tall and burly, with a scruffy beard, dark skin, and extremely coarse features. He looked strikingly fierce.
Yet he had chosen to wear a bright red robe—and not even properly. His right arm and shoulder were bare, with a black tiger tattooed across his dark skin.
He wore a small cap with a flower tucked beside his ear, making him look utterly incongruous.
This man was none other than the Iron Saber Gang's leader, Zheng HeiBei.
He had originally been a blacksmith in Xianyang City. Born with great strength, he had learned his family's Tongbei Fist from childhood. With his hot temper, he gathered a group of troublemakers and often got into fights.
After offending someone once and spending several days being dealt with in prison, he had suddenly seen the light. He kowtowed and became Zhou Pan's disciple, then went on to establish the Iron Saber Gang.
West City was far less prosperous than East City, but the Iron Saber Gang bullied and dominated the trade, practically monopolizing the blacksmith business throughout the city. As a result, it brought in quite a bit of money.
At that moment, Zheng HeiBei sat in the chair with his legs planted wide, walnuts rolling in his hand as he coldly stared at Meng HaiCheng kneeling on the ground.
"Do you know where you were stupid?"
Meng HaiCheng cursed inwardly. I shouldn't have agreed to fight in the Life and Death Arena.
He was an old hand himself. Only after leaving had he realized he had been tricked.
His side had held the advantage in numbers. He should have reneged on the spot, swarmed forward, and hacked Li Yan to death. By then, who would have known that Li Hu's son was in Xianyang?
Unfortunately, he had truly been afraid at the time.
Whenever he thought of Li Yan's eyes, a chill still crawled up the back of his neck.
"Hmph!"
Zheng HeiBei had no idea what he was thinking. He said coldly, "A greenhorn who just stepped into the martial world played you like a puppet. No wonder you ended up in this state."
"What does he amount to? We could have hacked him to death in a flurry of blades, then casually found someone to take the blame. But now look at us—we've turned it into a martial-world arena match. Win or lose, it's our master's face that gets slapped!"
Meng HaiCheng grew even more frightened and gritted his teeth. "How about I take some men and have him flayed alive right now?"
"Too late!"
Zheng HeiBei said indifferently, "Everyone on Xianyang Road is discussing this now. If you go kill him, won't you just turn us into a laughingstock?"
Meng HaiCheng had no answer, and his heart filled with even greater misery.
If only I'd known, I should have pretended not to recognize that brat.
Zheng HeiBei above him pondered for a while, then turned his head to the side. His tone softened considerably. "Master You, I heard that brat has fallen in with a Daoist of the Mystic School. Do you know what they intend to do?"
"Nothing more than inviting a god."
The speaker was a middle-aged man.
His appearance and accent were completely unlike those of people from Guanzhong, bearing the features of the Jiangzuo region. He wore a black robe, his hair hanging loose, and sported long, drooping mustache whiskers.
More bizarrely, a taiji symbol had been painted on his forehead with cinnabar.
This man was named You LaoSi, an occultist from Jiangzuo. He was skilled in Enchantment Curse techniques and, having apparently offended someone, had been hiding everywhere.
After learning of him, Zheng HeiBei had secretly taken him in.
Over the years, several of Zheng HeiBei's rivals had died violent deaths. You LaoSi had been behind every one of them, so Zheng HeiBei relied on him immensely.
The occultist You LaoSi lightly stroked his mustache and sneered. "That Daoist is named Wang Dao Xuan. His abilities are mediocre. All he wants is to invite an Underworld Deity to protect them while they take on some dangerous work."
"To invite an Underworld Deity, they'll have to go to the Mass Burial Grounds. It'll probably happen tomorrow night."
"And the Mass Burial Grounds are the territory of those West Traveling Beggars. Their leader is called the West Traveling Beggar Gang. Have someone send word and cause some trouble while they perform the ritual. Those people won't escape their death calamity."
"Once they're all dead, what the hell kind of arena match will there be?"
"Master You, that's an excellent plan!"
Zheng HeiBei thought for a moment. "Er Gou, make a trip there. Remember to be polite. Those beggars are a little eerie."
"Yes, Big Brother!"
A sharp-faced, rat-nosed man stepped out from the crowd.
"Wait."
The occultist You LaoSi suddenly spoke. "If you go just like that, you won't even get to see anyone before losing your life. I'll tell you what to do..."
"Thank you for your guidance, Master."
Er Gou carefully committed the instructions to memory, clasped his fists, and left.
The Iron Saber Gang's headquarters was in East City of Xianyang.
After leaving, the sharp-faced, rat-nosed Er Gou mounted a swift horse. He passed through Changping Granary, went by Horse King Temple, and exited Xianyang City through the northwest gate.
Compared with the ancient ferry crossing to the south, the area around the North Gate was truly much more desolate.
In the autumn rain, a tall ceremonial arch stood alone in the wilderness.
Now and then, commoners appeared on the muddy Official Road, all of them from nearby villages.
Er Gou wore a bamboo hat and spurred his horse into a furious gallop.
Near dusk, he arrived by a small hill.
Or perhaps it could hardly even be called a hill.
The Guanzhong Plain was surrounded by mountains on all sides. Whether the Qinling Mountains and Zhongnan Mountain to the south, Mount Hua and Mount Li to the east, or the Liangshan ranges farther behind, all stood countless times higher than the little mound before him.
But this place was no less famous.
Whether because of war, famine, plague, or fighting among martial-world figures, Xianyang City produced plenty of unclaimed corpses every day.
Naturally, such corpses could not simply be abandoned.
Even criminals beheaded at the execution grounds would be buried by someone.
That work had been entrusted to the West Traveling Beggar Gang.
They would not give the dead proper burials. Most were simply wrapped in straw mats. Only when a kindhearted person made a donation would they use one of those thin-skinned dog-headed coffins.
They paid no attention to feng shui, burying the bodies wherever they pleased on the mountain.
This place was Xianyang's Mass Burial Grounds.
After accumulating for who knew how many years, unclaimed graves were scattered all over the mountain. Gnarled old trees twisted everywhere, crows flew wildly, and packs of wild dogs roamed about.
Under the autumn rain and mist, the place was dim and gloomy, like the realm of the dead.
None of Xianyang City's ordinary people dared come here.
Even Er Gou, a man of the Iron Saber Gang, felt his scalp crawl at the sight. He could not help spitting and cursing inwardly: A bunch of pus-dripping, spineless thieves, and they just had to live in this ghostforsaken place...
Of course, he only dared grumble inwardly.
The beggars of Xianyang City had never been easy to provoke.
After the great drought and plague years ago, when the Maitreya Sect rebelled, the beggars' den had moved into these mountains. Their movements became exceedingly strange.
They claimed it was to escape the ravages of war, yet even after peace returned, they never moved back.
Some even suspected they had secretly colluded with the Maitreya Sect. One of Xianyang's Military Cavalry Commandants had secretly sent people to investigate, then led troops in a search, hoping to earn himself some merit.
Yet they found nothing at all.
Gradually, people grew accustomed to the beggars' den existing in the Mass Burial Grounds.
But in the martial world, even more legends circulated about these beggars.
For instance, they supposedly possessed strange arts that could bewitch the soul, and often colluded with the city's traffickers to kidnap and sell women and children...
They supposedly knew how to handle snakes and scorpions, and could even command the wild dogs here...
Several wandering martial artists had offended the Beggar Gang and met mysterious, grisly deaths.
In short, these beggars were deeply uncanny.
It was nearing dusk. Night had already fallen, and with the autumn rain and damp mist, the light was terribly dim.
Er Gou's heart prickled with fear. After dismounting, he lifted a lantern and advanced cautiously, constantly glancing left and right as he watched for movement around him.
Looking at the countless unclaimed graves surrounding him, even he—a man who would not blink after undergoing Three Knives Six Holes—felt his scalp tighten and every hair stand on end.
"Woof! Woof! Woof!"
The moment he stepped onto the mountain path, the wild dogs began to howl.
Pairs of blood-red eyes appeared in the dark, wet mist.
Clang!
The man jumped in fright and hurriedly drew the saber at his waist.
The packs of wild dogs in the Mass Burial Grounds were also terrifying presences in Xianyang City's legends.
These beasts fed on corpses and were filled with savage ferocity. Some people had even seen them attack packs of wolves. Eating a person would naturally be nothing to them.
Remembering Master You's warning, Er Gou forced down his fear, quickly sheathed his saber, clasped his fists, and called loudly, "We drink from the same river and share the evergreen for ten thousand years. I am Lu Er Gou, here to offer incense. I hope all of you will show yourselves!"
As soon as his voice fell, a shout of reprimand rang out in the distance.
Accompanied by the sound of beasts running, those pairs of red eyes rapidly vanished.
Er Gou felt a chill in his heart. These beggars really could drive wild dogs.
Soon, another shadowy figure appeared in the rain and mist. He carried no lantern, and his back was hunched as he stooped forward. In a deep voice, he asked, "Where does this honored guest come from?"
"The Old Capital City of Qin King."
"Do you know the weight of the martial world?"
"Four jin, twenty-three liang, five qian, four fen, nine li, and eight hao in total!"
"What are four fen, nine li, and eight hao?"
"The four seas, nine rivers, and eight streams."
"Where does a fellow traveler make his fortune?"
"I wouldn't dare claim that. I make my living following Uncle Zheng."
"Come along."
After a round of martial-world code words, they had roughly established each other's identities. The figure ahead finally raised a lantern, revealing an old beggar in tattered clothes, with unkempt hair and a dirty face.
Er Gou breathed a sigh of relief and followed closely behind.
Along the way, he always felt as though something was watching him from the darkness. Yet he did not dare look too closely, inwardly cursing the beggars' uncanny nature.
Finally, after entering the mountains, a faint glow of fire appeared ahead...
Before you continue