Master of Guiling Mountain

The sunlight was warm, the autumn scenery pleasant.

In Yangquan County, southeast of Linjiang Prefecture, a long bluestone street was riddled with potholes.

Hong Yuan wore a bamboo hat and a neat gray martial outfit, his bearing upright and his back straight as a spear. He had smeared turmeric over his face and hands to conceal his true appearance, and threaded through the bustling crowds at an unhurried pace.

Listening to the vendors' cries rising and falling around him, Hong Yuan studied the shops and homes along the street with interest as he walked, silently comparing them to those in Qingxu County.

The two counties lay beside each other, and their towns were much the same size. But Qingxu County benefited from convenient canal transport, more docks, and more developed salt and iron industries, which attracted large numbers of merchants to buy property there. Its streets were therefore tidier and its markets more prosperous.

Although the two county towns were only forty or fifty li apart, Hong Yuan had studied from childhood, immersing himself in poetry and the classics with his ears shut to everything beyond his window. On the few occasions he had left town, he had accompanied his father into the countryside to collect rent. This was therefore his first visit to Yangquan County.

Looking this way and that, he suddenly spotted a steamed bread shop up ahead. Its owner was a woman of about thirty, her smiling round face flushed red by the curling steam. Her clothes were patched but clean, and her fingers were tidy too. He promptly paid for two pieces of steamed bread.

He bit into the steaming bread. Its texture was a little coarse, but it had just come out of the steamer and still carried a rich wheat fragrance. Hong Yuan was not fussy. He swallowed one in a few bites, then took the other in hand and chewed it slowly.

Without realizing it, he recalled the events of the previous night.

Not long after he had touched the gray-white stone gate, the skinny little old man had brought him clean clothes. Hong Yuan had changed and gone to sleep fully dressed. He did not know how much time had passed before, half asleep, he suddenly heard Wu Duxiong, Yang Erhu, and the little old man talking upstairs.

The three were in a room on the tavern's second floor, though not the one directly above Hong Yuan. Their voices were quiet, but with his astonishing hearing, he still caught their conversation.

Wu Duxiong and Yang Erhu recounted in detail what had happened after they broke into the "Jade Wutong Immortal Realm." The little old man was very displeased that they had failed to catch even a single big fish, and went so far as to scold them.

Wu Duxiong immediately cursed back, snapping, "We aren't your subordinates. Don't try that on us."

The little old man hastily apologized, changed the subject, and asked about Hong Yuan's identity.

Their conversation revealed an organization called the "Dragon King Society," and this skinny old man was one of its contacts.

Yang Erhu and Wu Duxiong had established contact with the Dragon King Society and used its resources to discover that Qin Ziyue was trapped in the "Jade Wutong Immortal Realm." Even many of their preparations for storming the "Jade Wutong Immortal Realm" had been secretly planned by the society.

The Dragon King Society...

Yang and Wu aren't its underlings. The Dragon King Society must have some friction with Wei Zhenzhu's side, or perhaps they're outright enemies. Somehow, it learned that Yang and Wu were investigating Qin Ziyue, so it went with the current and lent them a hand, intending to use them as its blades.

Yang Erhu and Wu Duxiong clearly understood that, but since it helped their cause, they didn't care about being used.

But the Dragon King Society put in all that effort without achieving its intended goal. Would it really let matters rest?

Hong Yuan pondered this to himself.

He was now heading toward the "Yang Family Martial Arts Hall" on Spring Water Lane.

After breakfast that morning, the group had wasted no time, leaving the small town and making straight for Yangquan County.

At the town gates, Hong Yuan, Wu Duxiong, Yang Lie, and Master Qin had all slightly disguised their appearances before entering separately.

According to Wu Duxiong, this was entirely unnecessary. At best, it would delay Wei Zhenzhu's pursuit.

Besides, now that they had left that so-called "immortal realm," she no longer had the advantage of home ground. They did not necessarily need to fear her all that much.

For one thing, Wei Zhenzhu had suffered serious injuries this time and would need a while to recuperate. For another, Yangquan County had its own local snakes. Expanding her "influence" here would not be so easy, at least not in the short term.

At most, she could send a small band of hired fighters to slip in undercover.

Of course, Wei Zhenzhu could ask the Salt and Iron Judge, Zhou Wenjie, for help. The forces at his disposal were indeed formidable, but how should he put it?

He had already kept one eye open and the other shut while she played her games. Now that she had played herself into trouble, she wanted Zhou Wenjie to wipe her backside? Wasn't that treating him as less than a person?

Wei Zhenzhu might be a fat pig, but ownership of that pig was still registered under Zhou Wenjie's name!

Hong Yuan found he could no longer stomach his food.

He casually tossed the remaining half of his bread to a yellow dog basking lazily in the sun at a street corner. His gaze shifted and settled on a rather imposing pharmacy.

The pharmacy was called "Guiling Hall." It stood right at the busiest crossroads in Yangquan County, facing south, with a broad storefront.

Two burly men stood outside, one on either side, basking lazily in the sun. Yet whenever a shouting vendor, beggar, or displaced wanderer approached, they immediately put on vicious faces and cursed loudly, driving them away.

Hong Yuan glanced inside. The front hall was tall and spacious, and a huge medicine cabinet almost reached the ceiling.

Behind the counter, a dozen or so physicians wore respectable dark-blue shirts of fine cloth. Some held medical books, sipping tea and reading aloud; others chatted and laughed with visitors. Only one or two were consulting with patients. They were hardly busy.

The reason Hong Yuan took notice of Guiling Hall was simple: it belonged to his dear brother.

That dear brother who had sold him out was named Huang Shaotang. His father, Huang Yihe, also had another title: the "Master of Guiling Mountain."

The Huang Family was already a wealthy household rooted in Qingxu County for generations, with extensive lands, shops, and connections. Under Huang Yihe, whose talent lay in business, the family's fortunes had soared into the heavens. It had all but monopolized seventy or eighty percent of the town's medicinal herb trade.

How much money could they squeeze out of consultations alone?

Back at the academy, the original Hong Yuan had often heard of the Huang Family's tyrannical ways. Not only did it coerce renowned physicians into joining Guiling Hall, it also colluded with officials to suppress herb growers and force down prices. The slightest resistance earned a broken leg or a missing arm, with no concern for whether people were beaten to death or crippled.

But he had been close to Huang Shaotang then, and the fat fellow's honest-looking face was quite deceptive. He had never taken those stories much to heart.

Thinking back now, Hong Yuan had been one of the academy's outstanding students, which was why Huang Shaotang had deliberately befriended him. Once he had no use left, Huang Shaotang simply sold him to squeeze out one last payment.

Such cherished friends and family!

The Huang Family really is rich. I never imagined Guiling Hall had expanded all the way to Yangquan County...

Hong Yuan clicked his tongue and walked straight on, a smile on his face.

Back at the academy, Huang Shaotang and I were as close as father and son. Everyone knew it, and over a hundred academy students bore witness. A share of the Huang Family's property ought to be mine.

They say Huang Guiling is almost seventy. At his age, it would be perfectly normal for some sudden illness to send him to his grave, wouldn't it? And for my dear brother to die young from overwhelming grief-that would be perfectly normal too...