Dog Urine Alley

All of a sudden.

The broken door of the earthen house was kicked open with one boot!

Lu Chen stood in the doorway, gripping a heavy broadsword forged from crude iron.

The night wind swept a chill into the room.

Making the oil lamp flicker unsteadily.

Several thugs sprang up in alarm, more than half sobered by the shock.

The pockmarked man nearest the door turned deathly pale, his tongue tied:

"Y-you... what do you w-want..."

Before he could finish, Lu Chen lunged before him, his broadsword whistling as it cleaved down.

The pockmarked man raised an arm to block, but the blade had already sliced open his throat. Blood mist sprayed as he fell backward.

A thug beside him let out a shriek, grabbed a bench, and swung it at the back of Lu Chen's head.

Without even turning around, Lu Chen merely shifted aside and let the bench pass, then swept his blade upward.

The thug froze. A bloody gash deep enough to show bone split open across his chest, and he collapsed to the floor.

The remaining three were scared out of their wits and tried to flee for their lives.

Blind Man swooped down like a hawk snatching prey. His left hand seized the man by the back of his collar, while his right drove the shiv forward like a venomous snake striking. Three inches of iron blade sank completely into the man's back. The thug's entire body stiffened, his throat gurgled, and he crumpled limply to the ground.

On the other side, Shuan Hu and Baldy had already tangled with the last thug.

That thug was fierce enough, pulling the short blade from his waist and slashing wildly.

But Shuan Hu did not dodge. He took a slash hard on the shoulder, clamped the man's wrist in his left hand like an iron pincer, and locked his right elbow tightly around the man's throat. The thug's eyes bulged as he kicked and thrashed without stop.

Taking the chance, Baldy darted in close and stabbed seven times in succession with his shiv. But they were no wild stabs—every strike targeted vital spots beneath the ribs, at the waist, and in the lower belly.

Each stab made the thug convulse violently. When the seventh blade was pulled free, he was like a live fish with its tendons cut, struggling twice in the pool of blood before lying still forever.

The last thug had been frightened out of his soul. He slumped in the corner, his crotch soaked, doing nothing but kowtowing and begging:

"Spare me, heroes! It was Han Lao Wu... he paid us five taels of silver to hire us... He said there'd be a heavy reward once it was done..."

Lu Chen stepped over the corpses and brought his blade down.

The pleading stopped abruptly. A head rolled into the corner as a column of blood erupted.

Blind Man and the others swiftly searched the bodies, but in the end found only four taels and six mace of loose silver.

Baldy kicked the pockmarked man's corpse and spat. "The remaining four mace must've been spent by these bastards on wine and meat."

Shuan Hu wiped the bloodstained silver on his clothes. "Big Brother, this isn't enough."

"Since Han Lao Wu dared to set this trap, he'll naturally have to cough it all up, principal and interest." Lu Chen's voice was cold.

Dog Urine Alley was the cheapest whorehouse district in South City. Ten copper coins could buy a night with a woman.

Most of the women here were old and faded, carrying unspeakable filthy diseases, yet this was the only haven of tenderness for poor men.

Countless men caught foul diseases here, and in seeking a little pleasure, paid with their lives, ending with their nether regions rotting away in misery.

Yet even so, every day droves of men still clutched a few copper coins and squeezed their way in.

When poverty drove a man to the end of the road, even arsenic could be drunk like sugar water.

Han Lao Wu's residence stood in this alley, the most imposing place on the entire street.

Its tall walls were built of blue bricks, with shards of porcelain embedded along the top. Two huge black dogs were tied in the courtyard, baring their teeth and barking madly at any stranger.

Han Lao Wu never slept at home at night; he always spent the night in the whorehouses.

His appetite was great. Lustful yet miserly, he never cared about a courtesan's face or figure when choosing one—as long as her body was free of disease.

As he put it, "Once the lights are out, they're all the same."

Midnight.

Miao Lao San, wrapped in a tattered padded jacket, squatted at the entrance to the alley, looking exactly like a beggar.

It was late. No one could be seen in the alley, and no lamps were lit. Only the broken houses on either side occasionally carried the moans and whimpers of men and women.

Miao Lao San kept his eyes fixed on the tiled house with the red lantern hanging at the alley entrance.

Han Lao Wu was staying there tonight.

Several dark figures slipped silently into the alley.

Lu Chen led the way, followed closely by Blind Man, Shuan Hu, and Baldy, their footsteps as light as cats'.

Seeing Lu Chen, Miao Lao San jerked his chin toward the tiled house.

Lu Chen understood. The group pressed against the wall and crept beneath the window, where they heard Han Lao Wu's loud snoring from inside.

Blind Man drew his shiv and silently slid its thin blade into the crack of the door, little by little working at the bolt.

The tiled house had an inner and outer room. Two men slept like the dead in the outer room.

One lay sprawled over the table, snoring with drool running all over it.

The other lay spread-eagled on a bench, reeking of liquor. Two plates of leftover food and an empty wine jar sat on the table.

They were the bodyguards Han Lao Wu had hired at great expense, reportedly former soldiers skilled with spears and staves.

Whether Han Lao Wu went to collect debts or visit whorehouses, these two were always inseparable from him.

Only when he saw the two guarding outside did Lu Chen become certain that Han Lao Wu was here.

He made a gesture, and they slipped inside.

Shuan Hu and Baldy pounced on the two drunken men at the same time, covering their mouths and slitting their throats with clean, decisive movements.

Han Lao Wu's two bodyguards kicked their legs a few times, then went still.

Lu Chen lifted the cloth curtain to the inner room with his blade. Moonlight spilled inside. Han Lao Wu lay on the heated brick bed beside a fat woman. The earthshaking snoring had come from her.

Lu Chen slapped Han Lao Wu's face with the flat of his blade.

He jolted awake. Just as he was about to shout, Shuan Hu's knife was already at his throat.

"Make a sound and I'll slit your throat!" Shuan Hu snarled.

Han Lao Wu froze on the bed, cold sweat streaming down from his temples.

At that moment, the fat woman woke from the disturbance and drowsily began to open her eyes.

Miao Lao San punched the back of her neck hard. She went limp and collapsed back onto the bed without a sound.

Han Lao Wu forced out a smile. "Brother Lu Chen, wh-what is the meaning of this...?"

Lu Chen pressed his blade tip to Han Lao Wu's throat. "What, you've already forgotten about setting me up today?"

Han Lao Wu immediately dropped his playful manner, his expression turning solemn.

"By heaven and earth, this must be a misunderstanding. I, Han Lao Wu, swear to heaven: if I deliberately plotted against Brother Lu, may lightning strike me down and my whole family perish!"

"Quit putting on a fucking act! Every thug you hired has been laid out. You tried to seize my turf and set me up. Tonight, we'll settle old debts and new together."

A vicious glint flashed in Lu Chen's eyes.

"Brother Lu Chen! Master Lu! Ancestor Lu!... I'll kowtow to you! There's a heaven-sized misunderstanding here. You've always been the fairest man—you can't wrong a good man..."

Han Lao Wu instantly burst into tears and snot, crying to heaven and earth as though he had suffered some monstrous injustice.

Lu Chen watched his performance coldly and said only:

"Whether you've been wronged or not is for me to decide. You'll take on Li Dehai's debt of thirty taels. I don't have the money to fill that hole."

"Of course! Of course!"

Han Lao Wu forced a fawning smile. "Just thirty taels of silver—a trifle! I'll send someone to fetch it right away..."

Lu Chen sneered and nudged the blade tip forward another half inch.

A thin line of blood seeped from Han Lao Wu's neck.

"Thirty taels? I'm afraid that's a little too little."