Slay the Thieves, Seize Their Blades

Night fell. It was the end of the month, and darkness lay all around. The bitter wind of deep winter blew wild and free, its howl as mournful as weeping.

Several City Guard Office patrol runners strolled slowly down the main street.

Though wrapped in thick cotton-padded clothes, they still shivered from the cold, their necks drawn tightly into their collars until they seemed headless. Their hands were tucked before their chests, buried deep in their sleeves as though they had no arms.

Under the dim yellow glow of their lanterns, a row of long, eerie shadows stretched across the street.

"Freezing cold like this, night patrol is pure misery!"

"Sigh, isn't that the truth?"

"Once we finish a round, we can head back and drink some hot tea to warm ourselves."

"In weather this cold, how could tea be warmer than holding your wife?"

"That's true... heh heh heh..."

Locust Tree Alley was likewise dark and quiet.

The Chen residence.

The bedroom windows were shut tight, without a single ray of light leaking through.

Inside, charcoal burned in a brazier by the wall, while an oil lamp on the table gave off a dim, yellowish glow. Wisps of steamy heat rose from the wooden tub beside the bed and drifted away through the gaps between the roof tiles. It was warm and peaceful.

"Ah..." Chen Cheng, sitting in the wooden tub, let out a soft groan.

Mu Xiaowan, who was gently kneading his shoulders beside the tub, hurriedly stopped. She looked sorrowfully at his sturdy, muscular shoulder, where faint bruises had appeared.

"Brother Cheng, did I press too hard? Did I hurt you?"

Chen Cheng smiled gently. "It doesn't hurt. Your strength is just right."

After increasing the weight he carried, the cultivation progress of the Iron Garment Art had accelerated.

But the accompanying side effects had also begun to show. Under prolonged heavy pressure, injuries had started appearing on Chen Cheng's skin.

Ordinary Skin-Tempering Realm body-forging methods required all sorts of external forces, such as striking wooden stakes or rubbing the skin with hard substances like iron sand. At the same time, one had to stimulate the power of one's qi and blood to nourish the body, tempering the skin through a thousand hammerings until it constantly grew tougher and harder.

During cultivation, the skin would naturally be injured. One needed to soak in special medicinal decoctions to treat those injuries, then wait until the skin recovered before continuing cultivation. This cycle repeated over and over.

The Iron Garment Art was an internal-breathing method that emphasized breathing techniques, but it also included weighted training to temper the skin.

Previously, Chen Cheng had not carried much weight, so the effect on his skin had been limited. That was why his skin had not suffered any major problems.

Now that the weight had increased to fifty jin, the training effect had revealed itself, damaging his skin. He needed medicinal decoctions to treat it properly.

But medicinal decoctions were expensive. Even the most ordinary body-forging decoction cost several taels of silver. With Chen Cheng's means, he simply could not afford them.

He could only settle for the next best thing: soaking in hot water and using massage to relax his body and ease the strain on his skin.

Although Brother Cheng said it did not hurt, Mu Xiaowan still eased her strength, and her hands became even gentler.

Recently, she had stopped doing odd jobs everywhere. Her once-rough little hands had gradually become tender, like green scallions—soft and smooth. Chen Cheng found the sensation exceptionally comfortable and could not help letting out another groan.

"Brother Cheng, does it still hurt? Then I'll use even less strength." Mu Xiaowan jumped in fright.

Chen Cheng smiled awkwardly. "It doesn't hurt. It's just that you're using too little strength. My skin feels itchy."

"Hehe, then I'll have to put some force into it!" Mu Xiaowan gave him a sly smile, but her hands did not press any harder. She continued massaging him lightly.

Chen Cheng half-closed his eyes, enjoying this rare tranquility.

"Brother Cheng, why is there a stick in the tub?" Mu Xiaowan suddenly frowned in puzzlement.

Chen Cheng hurriedly caught her hand and placed it against his back.

"What stick? That's my arm."

"Ah... wasn't your arm resting on the edge of the tub?" Mu Xiaowan suddenly realized what was going on, and a flush rapidly swept across her pretty face.

"Yes, yes, I didn't notice just now..."

After soaking in the hot bath, Chen Cheng rose and put on his clothes. Suddenly, he heard a faint sound coming from the courtyard, and his brows drew together slightly.

"Xiaowan, stay in the room. I'll go boil some hot water for you too. You should wash as well. A hot bath in winter will warm you right up."

"Alright." Mu Xiaowan smiled sweetly. Brother Cheng had looked so comfortable soaking in the hot water just now.

She reached out to test the water temperature, then said, "Brother Cheng, the water is still hot. Firewood is expensive, so there's no need to boil more. I can just use this."

"But..." Chen Cheng had wanted to say that he had just bathed in it.

Mu Xiaowan chuckled. "Brother Cheng, I wipe you down every day. You're cleaner than all the young ladies and wives in the alley. This water isn't dirty at all."

"Fine. Take your time washing." As Chen Cheng spoke, he blew out the oil lamp.

Mu Xiaowan thought Brother Cheng was worried she would feel shy, so she did not think much of it. She immediately took off her clothes and slipped into the tub.

Chen Cheng stood beside the bedroom door and listened intently for a while. Then he picked up the short staff by the door, quietly opened it, crouched low and slipped outside, then shut the door again.

The official saber belonged to the government. Once he had left his jailer post, it had been taken back as well.

Outside, the night was black as ink, without a trace of light.

Only the kitchen held a faint glow, accompanied from time to time by tiny sounds.

There really were thieves!

Chen Cheng stood guard in a corner outside the bedroom, gripping the short staff tightly in his hand.

Before long, two figures emerged from the kitchen carrying bundles on their shoulders. They crept toward the courtyard wall on tiptoe.

Without saying a word, Chen Cheng suddenly charged out. Using the staff like a saber, he brought it down on one of the thieves.

That thief was alert as well. Hearing the wind whistle, he raised the long saber in his hand and slashed at Chen Cheng.

But Chen Cheng was far faster. His staff struck squarely onto the thief's shoulder.

Crack!

The sound of bone breaking rang out. The thief gave a muffled groan of pain, and his long saber slipped from his hand and clattered to the ground.

Seeing his companion injured, the other thief threw down his bundle and attacked Chen Cheng with a slash of his own. In the pitch-black darkness, Chen Cheng could not see clearly and feared making a mistake, so he quickly dodged aside.

That thief was surprisingly fierce. When his first strike missed, he immediately closed in, unfolding his saber technique and attacking Chen Cheng's vital points.

Chen Cheng did not meet him head-on. Instead, relying on his familiarity with his own courtyard, he rapidly retreated and evaded. He was so fast that he always kept two meters between himself and the thief.

After launching a string of attacks, the thief had not even touched a hair on Chen Cheng's head. He immediately began to grow anxious.

"Brother Cheng, what's happening?"

Hearing the commotion, Mu Xiaowan called out.

Chen Cheng hurriedly shouted, "There are thieves! Don't make a sound."

It would have been better if he had not shouted. The moment he did, the thief abandoned him and rushed for the bedroom door.

"You're courting death!" Chen Cheng roared, hurling the short staff in his hand.

The thief had not expected that move. By the time he heard the wind and tried to dodge, it was already too late. The flying staff struck the back of his head solidly, and he toppled to the ground.

Afraid the man was not dead, Chen Cheng rushed over, picked up the long saber, and chopped off his head with one stroke!

"Brother Cheng..." Mu Xiaowan called out anxiously.

"There are thieves in the house. Lock the door and don't come out," Chen Cheng replied. He then turned to search for the other thief, but the courtyard was empty. There was not a single shadow in sight.

"Ah Cheng, what happened?"

A torch lit up outside the courtyard gate, and Wang Laoshi called from beyond it.

Right afterward, the neighboring residents heard the commotion and came out one after another. Torches lit up the alley.

Poor commoners feared hooligans and gang members during the day, but they hated thieves who stole at night to the bone. At the slightest stir, they would rush over at once to help one another.

Their homes were already so poor they could barely keep the pot boiling. If thieves visited once or twice more, an entire family might starve to death!

This was the way the poor survived, and the local spirit that hardship had forced into being.

Chen Cheng climbed onto the wall and saw Wang Laoshi and his son, along with a crowd of Locust Tree Alley residents carrying torches, clubs, firewood choppers, and other weapons, gathered outside his gate.

"Uncle Wang, thieves broke into my home. Did you see them?"

Wang Laoshi answered truthfully, "I just saw someone run out of the alley."

"Oh." Chen Cheng acknowledged him, jumped back into the courtyard, told Mu Xiaowan to remain inside, and only then opened the courtyard gate.