Good Brother, I'm Here

Crack!

The rolled-edge saber, its blade chipped in seven or eight places, was tossed into a dark corner of the alley.

Hong Yuan clapped his hands and stepped lightly out of the alley.

After all, it was only something he had casually taken from the Yang Family Martial Arts Hall. It could hardly be called a fine blade, and throwing it away was no pity.

Hong Yuan had no obsession with weapons. He took them as he needed them, and if they were damaged, he was too lazy to spend effort sharpening and repairing them. It was not as if this were some divine weapon like the Dragon-Slaying Saber or the Heaven-Reliant Sword, tempered through a hundred battles and a thousand grindings yet still smooth as new, slicing through iron as if through mud.

As he stepped out of the alley mouth, the bustling, clamorous scene of the county town's commercial district flooded into view. Hong Yuan merged into the crowd, feeling noise pressing in from every direction, as if hundreds upon thousands of ducks were all quacking wildly at once.

The incident at the docks had already spread.

It was as if a heavy bomb had been dropped onto the surface of a calm lake, and more than half the county town had erupted into uproar.

All along the way, Hong Yuan saw people in restaurants and teahouses, and at street-side stalls, each of them excitedly discussing how Old Third Yan, the former Yama King of the docks, had been beheaded with a single stroke...

Discussing how that black-robed wandering knight had killed with a flick of his fingers, then left laughing loudly and singing madly...

Those four lines of "killing one man every ten steps" had become even more famous. In streets and alleys, quite a few wastrels and idle townsfolk were rushing to copy them down, reciting them aloud right there in the street.

Presumably, before long, through the waterways and land routes that stretched in all directions, this poem would spread to other prefectures and counties.

Hong Yuan walked amid the crowd, his figure tall and straight, his appearance handsome, his bearing outstanding and detached from the mundane. He drew quite a bit of attention.

Many people caught sight of him inadvertently and could not help having their eyes brighten, inwardly praising, What a graceful young gentleman. I wonder which family's young lord he is? So outstanding!

Although Hong Yuan had not changed his clothes, no one connected him with that wandering knight from the docks.

After all, many people had heard that the wandering knight, alone with one blade, had slaughtered a hundred or so men, as if a baleful star had descended to earth, killing until corpses lay strewn everywhere and blood flowed deep enough to float pestles.

A ferocious figure like that ought to be nearly a zhang tall, with a burly build, a thick, coiling beard like steel needles, a panther's head and ringed eyes. How could he be such a dashing, handsome youth?

"Move aside! Move aside!"

"Don't block the way!"

Amid a burst of hurried footsteps, a dozen or so county yamen runners came with sabers and clubs, pushing and kicking aside the pedestrians blocking their path. Amid shouts and curses, they hurried off toward the docks.

Hong Yuan watched the menacing backs of that group of yamen runners, not a single ripple rising in his heart.

Matters of the rivers and lakes were settled by the rivers and lakes!

The authorities had never involved themselves in the slaughter and struggles of martial artists. At most, after both sides had fought in earnest, they would step in to clean up the aftermath and collect the bodies.

For many years, this had practically become an unspoken rule between the rivers and lakes and the imperial court.

And ever since Great Yin's central authority had completely lost its restraint over the local regions, incidents of martial artists breaking the law with force had become increasingly numerous.

As long as things did not go too far, local officials all turned a blind eye. They were also afraid that if they pushed certain lawless madmen too hard, they would end up drawing fire onto themselves.

They were all porcelain—how could they go head-to-head with roof tiles?

As he walked, a little dampness spread across his face.

Hong Yuan looked up and saw sparse raindrops falling from the sky. Above, the oppressive cloud cover was black as ink, with thin arcs of electricity roaming through it like flood dragons and snakes soaring.

It seemed a torrential rain was about to arrive.

Hong Yuan was not surprised. Linjiang Prefecture lay on a plain, its water network dense and interwoven, and it had always had much rain. During these days while he practiced martial arts at the hall, there had been showers from time to time too. One moment the wind was clear and the air bright, and in the blink of an eye a sudden downpour poured like a basin being overturned; that too was common.

The wind gradually grew stronger, mixed with bean-sized raindrops striking his face, yet there was a distinct coolness and clarity to it. Hong Yuan was in no hurry to return to the martial arts hall.

He admired the scenery and customs of this waterside county town, watching the market that had been bustling and noisy earlier, the atmosphere in restaurants and teahouses still heated, while street peddlers packed up their stalls in good order. Pedestrians no longer chatted, their steps hurried, and some had already opened oil-paper umbrellas.

Hong Yuan moved neither fast nor slow. When he passed a wine shop, he patted the wine gourd at his waist. It thumped hollowly—there was not much wine left inside—so he immediately went in and had it filled.

The wine was rice wine brewed by the shop itself. Though its strength was low, its afterkick was heavy. However, with Hong Yuan's current powerful physique, let alone a mere gourd of wine, even if he poured down ten gourds or eight, it would not be enough to make him drunk.

After taking a sip and savoring its mellow fragrance, Hong Yuan walked onto a stone arch bridge in the city and stood there, enjoying the surrounding scenery.

During this time, two or three young ladies of jade-like age came forward to strike up a conversation and invited him to a feast at the nearby restaurant, but Hong Yuan refused them with a smile.

Thanks to Great Yin's endless stream of absurd emperors, Great Yin's social customs, though far from as open as Hong Yuan's previous life, were not bound by much ritual teaching either. If a woman saw a gentleman she fancied on the street, the bolder sort would also step forward and reveal her feelings.

After a while, Hong Yuan descended from the stone bridge and strolled back toward the Yang Family Martial Arts Hall. He happened to pass by Guiling Hall, and could not help glancing sideways.

He saw that at this moment, when heavy rain was about to arrive, the front of Guiling Hall was nevertheless in full swing. Men, women, old and young, all in worn-out clothes and holding bowls or basins, had split into two lines, forming long queues like dragons.

Hong Yuan looked up and saw a broad strip of red silk hung above Guiling Hall's door plaque. On it, in strokes like dragons flying and phoenixes dancing, were written the words "Heavenly Joy to the Proprietor, Blessings Upon Ten Thousand People." The handwriting was elegant, its bone strength vigorous and forceful; clearly it came from the hand of a renowned master.

On the walls to either side of the lintel hung a festive large flower ball.

Before Guiling Hall's stone steps.

Several medicine shop assistants had set up two steaming great pots.

A short, fat old man, his eyes narrowed into a slit and looking like a steward, slowly stepped forward. He took a long wooden ladle from an assistant's hand and stirred the pot with it, then covered his nose, choked and coughed a few times, and cursed at the assistant.

The fat steward moved a little farther from the pot and called loudly, "Our Guiling Hall's proprietor has had a joyous event recently. You lot can be counted as enjoying good fortune! To celebrate the proprietor's happy occasion, this hall will distribute Ten Thousand Blessings Porridge for three days. Those receiving porridge, line up properly! After you receive the porridge, remember to give thanks!"

With that, the fat steward waved at several odd-job workers of the medicine shop, straightened the brand-new long gown on his body, and seeing that raindrops were already falling one by one, unwilling to get wet, he was about to return to the medicine shop at once.

Hong Yuan called out, "Please wait a moment, old sir."

He strode forward, and a sour, rancid smell like swill rushed into his nose. He glanced at the two boiling great pots and saw that the gruel inside was murky beyond bearing, with faintly yellowed grains of rice stirring within, and a few shriveled, blackened red dates bobbing up and down. He could not help frowning.

The fat steward turned back. Seeing Hong Yuan's extraordinary bearing and handsome manner, he did not dare slight him. He cupped his hands and said, "Young master, you called this old one. What instructions might you have?"

"I wouldn't call it an order. I was merely passing through and saw such a scene, so I grew a little curious. Might I ask what happy occasion your esteemed hall is celebrating?" Hong Yuan said.

The fat steward smiled. "Naturally, our master is taking another concubine into the household. Though we are not qualified to go offer congratulations in person, we still have to wish our master well from afar and share in a little of the joy."

"Your master? Could it be that Master of Guiling Mountain, Lord Huang Guiling? If I remember correctly, he is no longer young, is he? In that regard..." Hong Yuan paused, his eyes flicking toward the fat steward.

The fat steward burst out laughing and likewise winked and made faces. "It is Lord Huang indeed. Though Lord Huang is nearing seventy, young master, you mustn't look down on the old gentleman. These past years, even if Lord Huang hasn't taken a pretty young bride every year, it has been close enough..."

At this point, envy surfaced on the fat steward's face. "Our Lord Huang's body is as vigorous as dragon essence and tiger might, hale and hearty in old age. It is said Lord Huang is well versed in alchemy and the arts of the bedchamber. One might say the longer he lives, the younger he grows, and the older he gets, the more robust he becomes. Otherwise, how could he manage so many lovely beauties?"

Hong Yuan listened and also sighed in admiration, cupping his hands. "I never imagined Lord Huang possessed such ability. May I ask on which day Lord Huang's happy occasion will be held? I and Lord Huang's beloved son, Brother Shaotang, are dear relatives and friends, companions as close as one could be. Since the Huang Family has such a joyous event, I cannot possibly fail to go offer congratulations."

Hearing this, the fat steward's expression grew a few degrees more respectful, and he hurriedly said, "I did not expect the young master to be an old friend of Young Master Huang. Forgive my disrespect, forgive my disrespect! The master's happy occasion is at the auspicious hour three days from now. I am Chen Gui, and thanks to the master's regard, I undeservedly serve as one of the shopkeepers of Guiling Hall here in Yangquan County. When the time comes, young master, I hope you might put in a good word for me..."

Hong Yuan saw the fawning look on his face, yet the wrinkles on that face were crumpled into a mass, as if they could pinch a fly to death. He could not help shaking his head. With a face like that, even beautification couldn't save him.

"Just reroll from scratch!"

He turned and left.

Chen Gui froze. Seeing the other man's back gradually recede, he could not help spitting. What kind of person was that? If he didn't want to put in a good word, he could have just said so. Why turn hostile at the drop of a hat?

Sure enough, the more of a pretty boy someone was, the less he was any good!

"Ah, I really do have the fate of a toiler. I just killed Meng Yue and that Old Third Yan, and now I have to run around again. I truly don't get a moment's rest!"

"Heaven, vast and eternal, why are you so cruel to me?"

Hong Yuan raised his head to look at the sky. The heavy dark clouds were as though dyed in ink. Suddenly, thunder boomed, accompanied by the broken patter-patter of rain striking the bluestone slabs and the roof tiles on both sides of the street, and the threads of rain abruptly grew dense.

A torrential rain came crashing down. Before long, muddy water had gathered in the low-lying parts of the ground. The sparse pedestrians on the street hurried past in a rush, stepping through water and sending splashes flying everywhere.

Hong Yuan's robes were soaked through in the blink of an eye, clinging tightly to his body, but he did not care at all and still walked unhurriedly toward the martial hall.

When your body was good, you could be this willful.

His good schoolmate and brother, Huang Shaotang, had single-handedly sold him into the "Jade Wutong Immortal Realm." Hong Yuan had not forgotten that for even an instant.

Originally, after killing Yan Tieshan, most of the murderous rage in him had already been vented, and he had even planned to keep cultivating for ten days or half a month before going to seek revenge. He had not expected to learn that Huang Guiling's "happy occasion" was soon approaching.

That could not wait!

He could not let Huang Guiling enjoy himself!

The son inherited the father's debts, so of course the father had to inherit the son's debts too.

Hong Yuan was a cultivated scholar, particular about father and son being reunited. Thus, he wanted to give them a joyful ending for the whole family.

"Good brother, wait just a little longer. I'll be coming to see you right away!"

Hong Yuan was not setting off immediately. Yangquan County and Qingxu County were only fifty li apart, and with his current strength and physique, even running there would not take half an hour.

When he arrived before the martial hall gates, he just happened to see Yang Erhu escorting a party of four out.

Yang Erhu's clothes were also soaked through, and his face looked somewhat gloomy. Among the four people he was seeing out, the leader was a brocade-clad young master in his twenties, fair-skinned and rather handsome.

Beside this brocade-clad young master were two men in gray. One of them held an oiled-paper umbrella, shielding the brocade-clad young master from the wind and rain, while his own clothes had been drenched by the downpour. Yet his entire person was as steady as a boulder, his expression not changing in the slightest.

Hong Yuan did not stop. As his gaze turned over, his feet also stepped onto the martial hall's stairs, and he met the brocade-clad young master and the other three.

Hong Yuan recognized the fourth person. The man was withered and thin, his skin shriveled; he was precisely that little old man who had appeared when Hong Yuan spent the night in a small town on the night he escaped from the "Jade Wutong Immortal Realm."

"The Dragon King Society?"

This thought surfaced in Hong Yuan's mind.

That night at the small-town tavern, he had inadvertently overheard Yang Erhu, Wu Duxiong, and that little old man arguing. He learned that the little old man came from an organization called the "Dragon King Society," and that the reason Yang Erhu and the others had been able to trace and even break into the "Jade Wutong Immortal Realm" was all due to the Dragon King Society's support from behind the scenes.

Back then, he had still been thinking that Yang Erhu and the others had charged into the "Jade Wutong Immortal Realm," yet in the end they had only killed some small fry. Those so-called Immortal Maidens under Wei Zhenzhu had not had a single one caught. The Dragon King Society had expended no small amount of strength, only to draw water with a bamboo basket and come up empty; they would probably not let the matter rest.

Now it had indeed come true.

The Dragon King Society's people had come knocking.

The brocade-clad young master glanced at Hong Yuan as he walked toward him. A suitable smile had been on his face all along, and he turned his head to Yang Erhu. "Hall Master Yang, I hope you will give my words further consideration."

"No need. I will not agree." Yang Erhu's expression was ugly, but he refused flatly. "Young Master Hua, please go back."

That Young Master Hua was not angry. The smile on his face remained as before, and he said softly, "Nothing is absolute. Hall Master Yang may not agree now, but perhaps after thinking it over for a few more days, you will change your mind."

Immediately after, his gaze shifted and landed on Hong Yuan. He sized him up from head to toe and smiled. "And this is..."

The shriveled little old man bowed respectfully. "This one came out from that place. However, he has now already been taken in as Hall Master Yang's disciple."

"Oh!" Young Master Hua raised his brows and nodded with a smile. "He is indeed a fine-looking talent... Hall Master Yang, you have someone to carry on your mantle. Unfortunately, I came in haste and did not prepare any congratulatory gift. I have been lacking in etiquette."

Without waiting for Yang Erhu or Hong Yuan to answer, he was surrounded by his two guards and stepped into the unbroken curtain of rain with a light laugh.

"Teacher, those people were?" Hong Yuan watched the four figures vanish into the rain and asked.

"A group of irrelevant people. No need to say more." Yang Erhu shook his head, his expression weary. He rubbed the space between his brows and looked at Hong Yuan's soaked clothes. "You should go change into clean clothes first!"

"There's no rush for that. Teacher, I have something to tell you."

Regarding what he had done today, Hong Yuan had no intention of hiding it from Yang Erhu. There was no meaning in that.

Moreover, Meng Yue's origins and background also needed to be explained to Yang Erhu.

Seeing Hong Yuan's solemn expression, Yang Erhu roused himself and nodded. The two of them walked inside, one in front and one behind.

Not all the apprentices and nominal disciples inside the martial hall had left; seven or eight of them were still under the eaves, sheltering from the rain.

Hong Yuan nodded to the apprentices, crossed the corridor, and arrived in the rear courtyard.

Yang Erhu looked over at Hong Yuan, wondering what he wanted to say. Hong Yuan smiled. "Teacher, take a look at this first."

As he spoke, he walked through the airtight curtain of rain to the jujube-wood stakes in the courtyard, gave a shout, exhaled with his voice, raised his fist, and struck.

Bang!

A fist print appeared on one of the jujube-wood stakes. Hong Yuan's body did not stop; he spun like a gust of wind, his footwork swift as a startled hare, and with two more bang, bang strikes, his fists landed on two other jujube-wood stakes.

Just as Yang Erhu was utterly bewildered, he heard three sharp crack, crack, crack explosions ring out almost at the same time. The middles of the three jujube-wood stakes Hong Yuan had struck all burst open in unison, wood splinters shattering and spraying outward.

Yang Erhu's eyes instantly went wide, and he stood there as dumb as a wooden chicken.