My Good Brother, Here I Come

Clack!

A saber with a rolled edge and seven or eight chips was tossed into a dark corner of the alley.

Hong Yuan dusted off his hands and stepped briskly out of the alley.

After all, he had simply grabbed it from the Yang Family Martial Arts Hall. It was hardly a fine blade, and throwing it away was no loss.

Hong Yuan had no attachment to weapons. He took whatever was handy and, if it broke, could not be bothered to sharpen or repair it. It was not some divine weapon like the Dragon Slaying Saber or Heaven Reliant Sword, which could endure hundreds of battles and thousands of trials, remain smooth as new, and slice through iron like mud.

As he stepped out of the alley, the bustling, clamorous sight of the county town's commercial district filled his eyes. Hong Yuan joined the crowd, surrounded by noise from every direction, like hundreds upon thousands of ducks quacking all at once.

News of what had happened at the docks had already spread.

It was as though a heavy bomb had been dropped into a tranquil lake. More than half the town was in an uproar.

Along the way, Hong Yuan saw excited faces in restaurants and teahouses and at roadside stalls, all discussing how Old Third Yan, once the King of Hell of the docks, had been beheaded with a single stroke...

They spoke of that black-robed wandering swordsman who had killed with a flick of his fingers, then departed laughing and singing wildly...

The four-line poem beginning with "Kill one man every ten steps" had become especially famous. Idle wastrels and loafers throughout the streets and alleys competed to copy it down, reciting it at the tops of their voices in the street.

Before long, no doubt, the poem would spread to other prefectures and counties along the extensive network of land and water routes.

Hong Yuan walked among the crowd, tall and straight-backed, handsome in appearance, with a strikingly refined air that drew plenty of attention.

Many people glanced at him by chance and felt their eyes light up, praising him inwardly. What a graceful young gentleman! Whose son could he be? Such an outstanding youth!

Although Hong Yuan had not changed his clothes, no one connected him with the wandering swordsman at the docks.

After all, many had heard that the swordsman had slaughtered a hundred-odd men alone with a single blade, like a baleful star descended to earth, leaving corpses strewn across the ground and enough blood to float pestles.

Surely such a ferocious figure ought to stand nearly ten feet tall, with a burly frame, a thick curling beard like steel needles, a leopard's head, and bulging eyes. How could he be such a handsome, elegant youth?

"Move! Move!"

"Out of the way!"

Amid a burst of hurried footsteps, a dozen county constables carrying sabers and clubs shoved and kicked pedestrians out of their path, cursing as they rushed toward the docks.

Hong Yuan watched their aggressively charging backs without the slightest ripple in his heart.

Affairs of the martial world were settled within the martial world!

The authorities had never concerned themselves with the fighting and killing of martial artists. At most, they waited until both sides had finished their battle before coming out to clean up and collect the bodies.

Over the years, this had all but become an unspoken rule between the martial world and the imperial court.

And ever since Great Yin's central government had completely lost its grip on the provinces, incidents of martial artists breaking the law through force had become increasingly common.

So long as things did not go too far, local officials turned a blind eye. They feared provoking some lawless madman and bringing the flames down upon themselves.

They were fine porcelain. Why would they clash head-on with broken roof tiles?

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

Hong Yuan looked up. Scattered raindrops fell from the sky, where heavy clouds were black as ink. Threads of lightning coursed through them like soaring flood dragons and serpents.

A downpour was clearly on its way.

Hong Yuan was not surprised. Linjiang Prefecture lay on a plain crisscrossed with waterways and had always seen abundant rain. During his time training at the Martial Arts Hall, showers had come now and then. Clear skies and a pleasant breeze one moment, a torrential downpour in the blink of an eye—that was perfectly ordinary.

The wind gradually picked up, driving bean-sized raindrops against his face. Yet they brought a refreshing, penetrating coolness, and Hong Yuan was in no hurry to return to the Martial Arts Hall.

He admired the sights of this waterside county town, watching the market that had been so noisy just moments ago. Restaurants and teahouses remained lively, while street vendors packed up their stalls in orderly fashion. Pedestrians stopped chatting and hurried along, some already opening oil-paper umbrellas.

Hong Yuan continued at an unhurried pace. Passing a wine shop, he patted the wine gourd at his waist. It sounded hollow; there was little wine left inside. He promptly went in to have it filled.

The shop brewed its own rice wine. Though low in alcohol, it packed a strong kick afterward. But Hong Yuan's physique was now powerful. Never mind a single gourd—even eight or ten would have no hope of getting him drunk.

Taking a mouthful and savoring its mellow fragrance, Hong Yuan walked onto a stone arch bridge in town and stood there enjoying the scenery.

Two or three young women in the bloom of youth approached to strike up a conversation and invited him to dine and drink at a nearby restaurant, but Hong Yuan declined with a smile.

Thanks to Great Yin's endless succession of absurd emperors, its customs, though nowhere near as liberal as those of Hong Yuan's previous life, were not particularly constrained by ritual propriety. If a woman spotted a young man she fancied in the street, the bolder ones would approach and express their feelings.

A little later, Hong Yuan left the stone bridge and strolled back toward the Yang Family Martial Arts Hall. As he happened to pass Guiling Hall, he could not help glancing over.

Even with the downpour approaching, Guiling Hall was bustling. Men and women, young and old, dressed in shabby clothes and holding bowls or basins, had formed two long lines.

Hong Yuan looked up. A broad red silk banner had been hung over Guiling Hall's signboard, bearing the words "Heavenly joy for our proprietor, blessings upon all the people" in soaring, sweeping calligraphy. The strokes were graceful yet powerfully structured, clearly the work of a master.

A large, festive ornamental ball hung on either side of the doorway.

Before Guiling Hall's stone steps.

Several pharmacy assistants had set up two great steaming pots.

A short, stout old man with eyes narrowed to slits, apparently a steward, ambled forward. He took a long wooden ladle from an assistant and stirred one of the pots, then covered his nose, coughed several times at the choking smell, and cursed the assistant.

The fat steward moved a little farther from the pot and announced loudly, "Our proprietor at Guiling Hall has a great joyous occasion coming up. You lot get to share in his good fortune! To celebrate, we will distribute Ten Thousand Blessings Porridge for three days. Those collecting porridge, line up properly! Remember to give thanks once you have received it!"

With that, the fat steward waved at the pharmacy laborers and straightened his brand-new long robe. Seeing the raindrops already falling, he was unwilling to get wet and immediately turned to head back inside.

Hong Yuan called out, "A moment, sir."

He strode forward, and the sour, rancid stench of swill struck his nose. Glancing into the two boiling pots, he saw filthy, murky porridge, with a few yellowed grains of rice stirring within and several shriveled, blackened red dates bobbing up and down. His brow furrowed.

The fat steward turned around. Seeing Hong Yuan's distinguished bearing and handsome appearance, he dared not slight him. He cupped his hands and said, "What might this old fellow do for you, young master?"

"Nothing so formal. I was merely passing by and grew curious about all this activity. What joyous occasion is your establishment celebrating?" Hong Yuan asked.

The fat steward smiled. "Our proprietor is taking another concubine, of course. Though we are not qualified to go offer our congratulations, we must still wish him well from afar and share in the festive spirit."

"Your proprietor? Would that be the Master of Guiling Mountain, Master Huang Guiling? If I recall correctly, he is rather advanced in years, isn't he? As for that particular matter..." Hong Yuan paused and cast the fat steward a meaningful glance.

The fat steward laughed and waggled his brows. "Precisely, Master Huang. Though he is nearly seventy, you must not underestimate him, young master. Over the years, even if he hasn't taken a lovely young bride every single year, he's come close..."

At this point, envy appeared on the fat steward's face. "Our Master Huang has the vigor of a dragon and tiger, growing stronger with age. They say he is well versed in alchemy and the bedroom arts. The longer he lives, the younger he becomes; the older he grows, the more virile he gets. How else could he handle so many beautiful young women?"

Hong Yuan expressed his admiration as well, cupping his hands. "To think Master Huang possesses such abilities! On what day will the happy occasion take place? His beloved son, Brother Shaotang, is my dearest friend, a companion whose heart is one with mine. Since the Huang Family has such a joyous occasion, I simply must offer my congratulations."

The fat steward grew even more respectful and hurriedly said, "I had no idea you were an old friend of Young Master Huang. Forgive my lack of courtesy! The happy occasion is at the auspicious hour three days from now. My name is Chen Gui. Thanks to our proprietor's regard, I have the honor of serving as one of Guiling Hall's managers here in Yangquan County. When you attend, I hope you might put in a good word for me..."

Seeing his flattering expression, with the wrinkles on his face scrunched together tightly enough to trap a fly, Hong Yuan shook his head. With looks like that, even a beauty filter could not save him.

"Just start over!"

He turned and left.

Chen Gui froze. Watching the young man's back recede, he spat. What kind of person was that? If he didn't want to put in a good word, he could just say so. Why turn hostile out of nowhere?

Sure enough, the prettier the boy, the worse the person!

"Ah, I really am doomed to toil. I've only just killed Meng Yue and Old Third Yan, and now I have to rush off again. I can't get even a moment's rest!"

"O boundless heavens, why do you treat me so harshly?"

Hong Yuan looked up at the sky. The heavy clouds seemed stained with ink. Thunder suddenly roared, and amid the pattering of raindrops shattering against the flagstones and roof tiles along the street, the curtain of rain abruptly thickened.

Rain poured down as though overturned from great basins. Before long, muddy water pooled in the low spots. The few pedestrians remaining on the street hurried past, sending water splashing beneath their feet.

Hong Yuan's robes were soaked through in an instant, clinging tightly to his body. Yet he paid no attention and continued toward the Martial Arts Hall at the same unhurried pace.

With a healthy body, he could be as willful as he pleased.

Hong Yuan had not forgotten for a single moment how his good brother and former schoolmate, Huang Shaotang, had personally sold him into the Jade Wutong Immortal Realm.

After killing Yan Tieshan, most of his murderous anger had dissipated. He had planned to cultivate for another ten days or half a month before seeking revenge, only to learn that Huang Guiling's "happy occasion" was approaching.

Now he could not wait!

He could not let Huang Guiling enjoy himself!

A son inherited his father's debts, so naturally a father should inherit his son's debts too.

Hong Yuan was a cultivated scholar who valued reunions between father and son. Thus, he intended to give them an ending where the whole family could be happy together.

"My good brother, wait just a little longer. I'll be coming to see you soon!"

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

When he reached the entrance to the Martial Arts Hall, he happened to see Yang Erhu escorting four people out.

Yang Erhu's clothes were soaked as well, and his expression was somewhat gloomy. The leader of the four he was seeing off was a fair-skinned, rather handsome young gentleman in brocade, around twenty years old.

Beside the brocade-clad gentleman stood two men in gray. One held an oil-paper umbrella, shielding the young gentleman from the wind and rain while his own clothes were drenched. Yet he remained steady as a rock, without the slightest change in expression.

Hong Yuan did not stop. As he looked toward them, he mounted the Martial Arts Hall's steps and met the four men.

Hong Yuan recognized the fourth man. Thin and withered, with shriveled skin, he was the little old man who had appeared when they stayed overnight in a small town on the night of their escape from the Jade Wutong Immortal Realm.

The Dragon King Society?

The thought surfaced in Hong Yuan's mind.

That night at the small-town tavern, he had accidentally overheard Yang Erhu and Wu Duxiong arguing with this little old man. He had learned that the old man belonged to an organization called the Dragon King Society, and that its support had enabled Yang Erhu and the others to investigate and eventually breach the Jade Wutong Immortal Realm.

At the time, he had thought that although Yang Erhu and the others had stormed the Jade Wutong Immortal Realm, they had ultimately killed only a few small fry. They had failed to catch even one of the so-called Immortal Maidens, including Wei Zhenzhu. After expending so much effort only to draw water with a bamboo basket, the Dragon King Society would probably not let matters rest.

Now that had indeed come to pass.

The Dragon King Society had come knocking.

The brocade-clad gentleman glanced at Hong Yuan as he approached, his face still bearing a courteous smile. Turning to Yang Erhu, he said, "Hall Master Yang, I hope you will give my words some further consideration."

"There's no need. I will not agree." Yang Erhu looked displeased, but his refusal was decisive. "Young Master Hua, please leave."

Young Master Hua did not become angry. His smile remained as he said softly, "Nothing is absolute. You may refuse now, Hall Master Yang, but perhaps after thinking it over for a few days, you might change your mind."

Then his gaze shifted to Hong Yuan. After looking him up and down, he smiled. "And this is...?"

The shriveled little old man bowed and said respectfully, "He came out of that place. However, Hall Master Yang has now taken him as a disciple."

"Oh!" Young Master Hua raised his brows and nodded with a smile. "A fine-looking young man indeed... Hall Master Yang, you have found a worthy successor. Unfortunately, I came in haste and prepared no congratulatory gift. How remiss of me."

Without waiting for Yang Erhu or Hong Yuan to answer, he stepped into the endless curtain of rain with a soft laugh, flanked by his two guards.

"Teacher, who were those people?" Hong Yuan asked, watching the four figures disappear into the rain.

"A group of irrelevant people. There's no need to discuss them." Yang Erhu shook his head, looking weary. He rubbed his brow, then noticed Hong Yuan's drenched clothes. "Go change into something clean first!"

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

Hong Yuan had no intention of concealing what he had done today from Yang Erhu. There was no point.

Moreover, he needed to explain Meng Yue's background to Yang Erhu.

Seeing Hong Yuan's solemn expression, Yang Erhu rallied his spirits and nodded. The two headed inside, one following the other.

Not all the apprentices and nominal disciples had left the Martial Arts Hall. Seven or eight were still sheltering beneath the eaves.

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

Yang Erhu looked toward 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 impenetrable curtain of rain to the jujube-wood posts in the courtyard. With a shout, he exhaled, raised his fist, and struck.

Bang!

As his fist left an imprint on one jujube-wood post, Hong Yuan kept moving. He turned like a gust of wind, his footwork swift as a fleeing hare, and landed another two booming punches on two other posts.

While Yang Erhu was still utterly bewildered, three explosive cracks sounded almost simultaneously. The middles of all three jujube-wood posts struck by Hong Yuan's fists burst apart, sending splintered wood flying.

Yang Erhu's eyes went wide in an instant. He stood frozen like a wooden chicken!