Huang Tianhe

Chen Zhuo was carried into the yamen by men supporting him.

Martial training, fighting—his physical strength had long been drained dry.

If he hadn't swallowed a Blood Vitality Pill that morning, he wouldn't have lasted until now.

Nor would he have dared to risk his life training with a blade, pushing himself like a madman.

Of course, risk and reward went hand in hand.

The benefit of fighting through bloodshed was the significant progress in Iron Cloth Shirt and Zhengyang Blade Technique.

Especially the blade technique—it seemed to be rolling forward, climbing higher and higher.

[Training Method: Iron Cloth Shirt (83/100) (Beginner)]

[Combat Method: Zhengyang Blade Technique (Incomplete) (7/50) (Mastery)]

In just one battle, the progress in Iron Cloth Shirt surpassed the gains of the previous month.

"Adventure is the anthem of courage."

With this result, Chen Zhuo was already content.

What's more, Zhengyang Blade Technique had reached Mastery in a single fight.

The two paths of martial arts—training and combat—were both indispensable.

In today's battle, the more he fought, the stronger he became, mainly because his combat method's proficiency had shot up.

"I wonder if the incomplete Zhengyang Blade Technique, with only three moves, can evolve into a complete technique once it's perfected?"

Chen Zhuo was looking forward to it.

"You're in some trouble this time."

Sun Fei's voice was low.

In the inner hall of the Swift Squad, Chen Zhuo was laid out on a makeshift cot, with Sun Fei attending to him.

"Because of Huang Sanyou?"

Chen Zhuo withdrew his gaze and asked curiously, "What exactly is Huang Sanyou's status?"

"In Baiyun County's One Sect, Three Gangs, Five Schools, the Long River Gang's influence is second only to the Sect. Now, the Long River Gang is surnamed Huang."

Sun Fei's words made Chen Zhuo's heart sink.

He could already confirm one thing.

The afternoon's deadly ambush was definitely tied to Huang Yuan'er.

Sun Fei seemed to see through his thoughts and suddenly revealed a startling fact.

"Instructor Huang is the third son of Huang Tianhe, the Long River Gang's leader, and Huang Sanyou is Huang Tianhe's legitimate uncle, Huang Yuan'er's grand-uncle."

"So, Huang Sanyou outranks even the current Long River Gang leader?"

Chen Zhuo's eyes widened slightly, a tremor seeming to shake his pupils.

That meant he had beaten up the Long River Gang leader's uncle and dragged him back to the yamen.

No.

"That's not right. I'm just a White-Uniform Runner. Is someone that important worth personally coming after me?"

Chen Zhuo frowned, suddenly feeling this didn't add up.

"Although Huang Sanyou's seniority is high, he's accomplished in neither civil nor martial arts. His status in the Long River Gang isn't high. At most, he has some petty cleverness, spending his years mingling among the gang members."

At this point, a flicker of disgust passed through Sun Fei's eyes. "That man is like a sticky plaster—once he latches on, you can't shake him off. He's nothing but a shameless scoundrel. But still, he's Huang Tianhe's uncle. Hitting him is like slapping the Long River Gang in the face."

"Huang Tianhe has already reached Aperture Opening. With a wave of his hand, he can exert tens of thousands of jin of force. The consequences of slapping his face are easy to imagine."

"That's why I said you're probably in some trouble this time."

Chen Zhuo smiled faintly. "Did you suffer a loss at that Fat Old Man's hands?"

A flicker of embarrassment crossed Sun Fei's face, and he shook his head firmly. "No."

Chen Zhuo didn't press further. Instead, he turned serious and asked, "The One Sect, Three Gangs, Five Schools—how does the yamen compare to these gangs?"

Sun Fei subtly straightened his chest. "Below the yamen, they're all chickens and dogs."

"No matter how high Huang Tianhe's cultivation is, it can't surpass Magistrate Liu's. No matter how many men the Long River Gang has, they can't stand against the Three Thousand City Defense Army."

"That's enough."

Chen Zhuo raised his arms. On the slightly curled flesh were patches of blood scabs.

He looked at those wounds and suddenly smiled.

Sun Fei shook his head. "The martial path requires not only talent but also time. You haven't seen Huang Tianhe. When he truly appears before you..."

Before he could finish, a slovenly middle-aged man with a stubbly beard suddenly walked in.

"Little fatty, didn't your father ever teach you that the martial path needs spirit even more? Without spirit, you'll never reach the peak."

"In this regard, you're far behind your older brother."

Yan Ming entered the room, set down his medicine box with a clean motion, and tossed off a few casual remarks before walking over to Chen Zhuo to examine his injuries closely.

Sun Fei scratched his head awkwardly, not daring to argue. "You treat the wounds first."

"Master Yan, you know medicine too?"

Chen Zhuo was surprised.

In his past life, chefs and doctors both wore white, but they were still two different trades.

Same in this life.

"Back home, I treated cattle and horses for a few years. Treating people isn't any different from treating livestock."

Yan Ming replied flatly. "A man loses his spirit, and he might as well be a beast of burden."

Chen Zhuo: Can't argue with that.

Sun Fei stood there thoughtfully for a moment, then respectfully bowed to Yan Ming.

"All done."

Yan Ming gave Chen Zhuo a once-over, then pressed his fingers to his wrist to take his pulse, and came to a startling conclusion.

"Any later, and the wound would've healed on its own."

This time it was Chen Zhuo's turn to be embarrassed.

Chen Zhuo gave an awkward smile. "Sorry for the trouble, Master Chef Yan."

Yan Ming waved a hand. "You're tough enough on yourself, got some spine. Worth my trip out here."

"Oh, right. Lord Liu's banquet tonight—the kitchen's going to be busy. Make sure you show up on time."

With that, Yan Ming slung his medicine box over his shoulder and left.

Just as he stepped out the door, his voice drifted back in.

"And don't forget that bucket of Blood-Strengthening Soup. You know what it costs. If you don't want to work for nothing, pay up soon. Otherwise, you won't see a single coin of your wages for a long time, and interest will pile on..."

The voice faded into the distance. Chen Zhuo's face twisted with bitterness.

He'd almost forgotten about that bucket of Blood-Strengthening Soup.

Back to being broke.

Just thinking about the money he'd just gotten slipping away made Chen Zhuo's heart bleed.

He sat up, his gaze falling on the money pouch at his waist.

That five taels or so of silver—he'd earned it with his own two hands, lifting it off a few members of the Long River Gang.

Not easy.

"I've got to help in the kitchen tonight. Need to recover my strength fast."

With that in mind, Chen Zhuo didn't hesitate to use a Blood Vitality Pill. He swallowed one on the spot.

A cool sensation slid down his throat, and his spirits lifted considerably.

"Rest up. As for Huang Sanyou and the rest, once Squad Leader Yao gets back to the yamen, we'll sort it out."

With that, Sun Fei somehow produced a bucket of clean water and a set of clothes, setting them down in front of Chen Zhuo.

"Thanks, Brother Sun."

"We get along. No need for thanks."

Sun Fei seemed to want to say more but held back. He waved a hand. "I'm off."

Watching Fatty Sun's broad back disappear, Chen Zhuo turned back and began cleaning the blood off himself.

Once he'd washed clean and changed into fresh clothes, Chen Zhuo plopped down into a high-backed armchair and poured himself a cup of tea.

The tea was slightly cool, but his heart burned hot.

He smiled knowingly, remembering the look on Fatty Sun's face as he left.

He understood what Sun Fei was thinking.

The other man had seen his predicament clearly.

But money—that was something you had to earn yourself to feel secure spending.

It wasn't about being stubborn, or refusing to accept charity.

What others gave always had limits. And if you accepted handouts or gifts, you'd have to repay them—maybe even with your life.

After today's conversation, Chen Zhuo could see just how deep the waters ran in Baiyun County.

One sect, three gangs, five schools, and the yamen above them all.

His thoughts drifted to Huang Sanyou, Huang Yuan'er...

"Training in martial arts—I need to step it up."

Downing the last of his tea, Chen Zhuo looked up at the sky, stood up, and headed straight for the kitchen.