Crushing flowers (Part one)

Night.

"What Divine Dragon Cult? What fighting a hundred men single-handed and shaking South Canal with your might? Where's all that arrogance now, Li? Now you know to kneel before me and beg? No use, hahahaha... it's too late..."

In the faint firelight, seventeen or eighteen houses with white walls and black tiles stood on the hillside. A narrow path stretched down into the darkness. More than a dozen burly men with sabers and swords at their waists heard the faint sobbing behind them, their faces indifferent.

This was one of the Red Flower Society's villas.

"I beg you, sir, please don't do that to her..."

Inside the bridal chamber, red silk was draped over golden hooks on either side and tied into floral knots. It gradually pulled taut, as though suspending something heavy.

"Sir, please spare us..."

A frail scholar knelt before the bed, two iron palms pinning his shoulders down. He shook his head desperately, unable to bear looking.

"Begging me to spare you?"

Yang Le stood on the bed and slowly loosened his belt. His hands gripped the red silk on either side. His eyes were sunken, his expression strangely excited as he looked down at the young scholar kneeling on the floor with a grotesque laugh.

"Li Yu, first kowtow a hundred times and call me your own dear grandpa a hundred times. Let me hear it, hahaha..."

"My surname is Yan, not Li. Sir, have you found the wrong man?"

"Your surname isn't Li?"

Yang Le froze, his laughter abruptly stopping, as though he truly suspected he had found the wrong man.

Seeing a glimmer of opportunity, the scholar nodded repeatedly.

"Yes, yes! My surname is Yan, not Li. I live in Gourd Lane on Ten-Li Street outside Gusu City and teach for a living. We only recently married. I was accompanying my wife on a visit to her parents, and on the way we... I've never offended you, sir..."

"I'll teach you to be surnamed Yan instead of Li!"

Yang Le looked around at his men and barked fiercely.

"Hold him straight!"

Two burly men, one on either side, grinned as they clamped the man tight. Two palm-leaf-fan-sized hands held his cheeks in place, while another hand pried his eyelids open, forcing him to see every detail of what was happening five feet away.

The night breeze brushed past the window, and the red silk swayed violently.

"You beast! You beast!"

The young man wailed and screamed, shaking his head desperately, only to have it forced back. He tried to shut his eyes, but his eyelids tore and bled. He could only watch the red silk sway. After a long time, his gaze grew vacant. At the utmost extreme of rage lay numbness, yet from that numbness another kind of resentment was born.

"Three generations of the Yan family have lived blamelessly, passing down poetry and learning. How can we suffer such humiliation? This is flinging shit onto our ancestors' memorial tablets..."

A little later, just as Yang Le was thoroughly satisfied, he suddenly saw firelight flickering outside the window.

"Kill!"

"Surround them! Don't let a single one escape..."

Shouts of battle, footsteps, and the clash of weapons drew closer from afar.

Bang!

Yang Le shoved the young woman away, leaped off the bed, and drew two lacquered short spears from a rack. Taking an "Antelope hanging its horns" stance, he rushed barefoot out the door. His face immediately went deathly pale.

The Red Flower Society's members were either dead or surrendered. Only a dozen or so remained, retreating below the steps.

"You... you really did come."

Beneath the moonlight, Li Yu stood in the central courtyard in a blue robe, the longsword in his hand gleaming coldly. Behind him were Fu Rong and the Fish-Dragon Banner members they led. Having obtained reliable information that night, they had launched a surprise attack on this Red Flower villa.

They had caught him red-handed!

"At the Flower-Honoring Banquet, Zhang Hengye said the same thing. He was a hero. You're a petty villain."

Yang Le held his two short spears out, his steps unsteady and his gaze evasive. "The hero Zhang Hengye offended you. I haven't."

Li Yu smiled faintly. "Haven't you heard? The common man is innocent; possessing a jade makes him guilty."

The jianghu was, at its heart, just that naked. In daylight, people spoke of rules. At night, once darkness fell, big fish ate little fish, and little fish ate shrimp. Unless you seized the moments when the flood dragon dozed to strengthen yourself, sooner or later you would end up on the chopping block.

He never wanted to taste being at another's mercy in the Western Xia Yipintang again!

Yang Le looked across at the hundred-odd men in black, fierce as wolves and tigers, standing in disciplined ranks. In so short a time, this man had used a newly founded Divine Dragon Cult not only to win the allegiance of some of the forces of the Seventy-Two Peaks, but also to fully integrate the Black Flood Dragon Gang's former elites.

Whether in martial skill or cunning, he left Yang Le in despair.

Yang Le said in a trembling voice, "Whatever you want, I... I'll give it to you."

Fu Rong looked toward the room behind Yang Le, its debauchery beyond description. She sneered. "Rumors have long circulated in the jianghu that the Red Flower Society lures respectable women into captivity, keeps them confined, and buys them into brothels. We'll expose your vile deeds to the world and use your head to spread the Divine Dragon Cult's renown."

Yang Le's expression changed again and again, and he shook with fear. He threw down his short spears, his legs buckled, and he slid down the steps onto his knees. Covering seven paces in five, he lowered his body and raised his hands, assuming the posture of someone about to kowtow and beg for mercy.

"Where am I..."

Inside the room, the bride woke.

Miss Song was bewildered for only a single breath. If she could, she would rather have remained in that breath forever. Her father was a village schoolteacher. She had read poetry and the classics from childhood and had grown into a woman of some beauty. Suitors from every village for miles around had worn through their threshold.

"My dear Yan..."

Her expression froze, as though she had plunged into hell. She slowly sat up, looking at her utterly naked body.

Her husband knelt beside her, his eyes cold.

Outside the door, two groups confronted each other, firelight gleaming on their weapons. No one cared about them.

"Why haven't you..."

"My dear Yan, what did you say?" Miss Song smiled wretchedly. She had heard him clearly; she simply could not believe it.

"I said."

The scholar surnamed Yan clenched his fists, his fingers digging into his flesh. His eyes bloodshot, he stared at his new wife and ground his teeth, speaking each word separately. "Why... haven't... you... gone... and... died... yet..."

Several cold points of light flew from his sleeves.

"Die, you bastard Li!"

Clang, clang!

Li Yu had anticipated it. His blue-steel sword thrust out, tracing three sword shadows and flicking every hidden weapon away.

Thud!

A three-inch iron nail spun back and struck Yang Le squarely between the brows, burying itself to the base.

"Caught in your own cocoon!"

Of South Canal's four gangs, the Red Flower Society had existed the longest, spanning three generations. Its forebears had once known glory. Yang Le's grandfather, Yang Xi, had been nicknamed the "Cloud-Piercing Flying Eagle." His lightness skill was formidable, and he was said to have had ties to the Murong Clan.

Nine years earlier, his father, Yang Xiao, had died suddenly, and Yang Le had taken over the Red Flower Society. Its members were disheartened, powerful enemies were closing in, and his martial skills were mediocre. With no prestige either, by rights, he should never have been able to hold his position as leader...

Yang Le struggled to turn around and look over this villa, built nine years earlier. Slowly, relief appeared on his face.

"The Red Flower Society should have perished nine years ago..."

Amid a brief burst of shrill laughter, he fell backward onto the steps, the focus leaving his eyes completely.

"We are willing to surrender."

Their leader was dead, and resistance was futile. A dozen or so Red Flower Society members laid down their weapons and knelt in surrender. Among them were brave, formidable men, as well as petty villains who trimmed their sails to the wind. Sorting out whom to dismiss was the Fish-Dragon Envoy's responsibility.

"Guo Xie."

Li Yu sheathed his sword and walked slowly to the foot of the steps. He looked at the two red-lacquered short spears. Their heads were forged from pure steel, their shafts made of lacquered ironwood, with bronze bands fitted around both ends. A mechanism concealed in the middle allowed them to join into a single long spear.

"Here, sir."

Guo Xiaosi's formal name was Guo Xie.

An orphan, he was seventeen that year and had already spent four years in the gang. He was solidly built, with rather long arms and alert eyes. Hearing the cult leader call him by his formal name, he froze briefly before hurriedly stepping out of the ranks.

"On Lake Tai that day, I saw you pole a boat with a measure of deft strength. Wielding a spear follows the same principle. Your intelligence gathering this time has earned you merit. You're promoted to incense master, and the Red Flower Spear will be your weapon."

Guo Xie accepted the two spears and said excitedly, "I'll practice my spear techniques diligently and serve you, Cult Leader."

Rank-and-file gang members shed blood and sacrificed their lives without any lofty ideals. All they hoped for was a future in which they could rise above the crowd.

Seeing that the cult leader rewarded merit clearly and fairly, everyone knew that their own struggles with saber and spear had also been noticed.

Looking at Yang Le's corpse on the ground, Li Yu said loudly, "Use your remaining valor to pursue the beaten foe; don't chase empty fame like the Hegemon King. Cut off his head now and go to Linhu Town to issue orders to the Red Flower Society. The White Dragon Envoy is already waiting on the water with her forces."

"Yes."

His heart surging, Guo Xie raised his saber and brought it down. He picked up the red silk the wind had blown outside the door, wrapped up a pool of blood, and deftly tied the bundle to his waist. Then he mounted a horse and led several riders into the boundless night.