Chapter 27: Good Brother, I’m Here
Smack!
A notched, dull-edged blade that had chipped seven or eight gaps in one bite clattered into the dark corner of the alley.
Hong Yuan clapped his hands, stepping lightly out of the alley.
After all, it was just casually taken from the Yang Family Martial Arts School, so it couldn’t be called a fine blade; discarding it was no pity.
Hong Yuan had no obsession with weapons, taking them as needed, too lazy to grind and repair them if damaged—they weren’t Dragon Slayer Blade or Heaven Reliance Sword, those divine weapons tempered through a hundred battles and thousands of forges, still smooth as new and cutting iron like mud.
Stepping out of the alley mouth, the prosperous and noisy scene of the county town commercial district surged into view; Hong Yuan merged into the crowd, feeling noisy sounds from all directions, like hundreds or thousands of ducks quacking chaotically.
The incident at the wharf had already spread.
As if a heavy bomb had been thrown into a calm lake, most of the county town was abuzz.
Along the way, Hong Yuan saw in restaurants and tea houses, on street stalls, people with excited expressions discussing how Yan Laosan, that former wharf King of Hell, had been beheaded with one knife…
Discussing how that black-robed wandering knight killed with a flick of his fingers, laughing wildly and singing as he left…
Those four lines of poetry “Ten Steps, One Kill” had become especially famous; in streets and alleys, many idle rakes and common idlers competed to copy them, reciting them loudly in the street.
It would probably not take long, with the extensive water and land channels, for this poem to spread to other prefectures and counties.
Hong Yuan walked among the crowd, his posture upright, appearance handsome, bearing extraordinary and refined, quite eye-catching.
Many people glanced casually and couldn’t help but brighten up, secretly praising in their hearts: ‘What a graceful young master, who knows which family’s youth? So outstanding!’
Although Hong Yuan hadn’t changed his clothes, no one associated him with that wandering knight at the wharf.
After all, many had heard that the wandering knight alone with one knife had slain over a hundred people, like a killing star descending, leaving corpses strewn everywhere and blood floating oars.
Such a ferocious figure should be nearly ten feet tall, burly in build, with thick beard like steel needles, leopard head and ring eyes—how could he be such a dashing and elegant youth?
“Get out of the way! Get out of the way!”
“Don’t block the path!”
Accompanied by bursts of hurried footsteps, over ten county yamen runners with knives and sticks pushed and shoved the pedestrians blocking the way, cursing as they hastily ran toward the wharf.
Hong Yuan looked at the fierce backs of the group of yamen runners, his heart unmoved by any ripple.
Jianghu matters, settled in Jianghu!
The government never interfered in Jianghu people’s fights and killings, at most stepping in after both sides had fought hard to clean up and collect bodies.
For so many years, this had almost become an unspoken rule between Jianghu and the court.
And since the Great Yin Dynasty central authority had completely lost control over local areas, incidents of Jianghu people committing crimes with martial arts had become even more frequent.
As long as it wasn’t too excessive, local officials turned a blind eye; they also feared provoking certain lawless madmen and getting burned themselves.
All are porcelain—how can they clash hard with roof tiles?
While walking, a bit of wetness spread across his face.
Hong Yuan looked up to see sparse raindrops falling from the sky; above, thick oppressive cloud layers were ink-black, with arcs of electricity dancing within, like soaring flood dragons.
A violent rain was evidently about to arrive.
Hong Yuan wasn’t surprised; Linjiang Prefecture was in the plains with dense waterways, always rainy; during his days practicing martial arts at the martial school, there were often sudden showers—clear skies one moment, torrential rain the next was commonplace.
The wind gradually picked up, carrying bean-sized raindrops hitting his face, bringing a unique cool refreshment; Hong Yuan wasn’t in a hurry to return to the martial school.
He appreciated the scenery of this water town county, seeing the previously lively and noisy market still hot in restaurants and tea houses, street vendors orderly packing up stalls, pedestrians no longer chatting but hurrying along, some already opening oil-paper umbrellas.
Hong Yuan walked unhurriedly; passing a wine shop, he patted the wine gourd at his waist—thump thump, almost empty—so he went in and filled it up.
The wine was the shop’s home-brewed rice wine, low in alcohol but with strong aftereffects; however, with Hong Yuan’s current powerful physique, not to mention one gourd, even eight or ten wouldn’t drunken him.
Taking a sip, savoring the mellow fragrant taste, Hong Yuan walked onto a stone arch bridge in the city, standing on it to admire the surrounding scenery.
During this, two or three delicate young ladies came forward to chat him up, inviting him to a nearby restaurant for a feast, but Hong Yuan smilingly refused.
Thanks to the Great Yin Dynasty’s endless absurd emperors, its customs were open—though not as much as Hong Yuan’s previous life—yet unbound by etiquette; women on the street who saw a favored man would boldly express their feelings if daring enough.
A moment later, Hong Yuan descended the stone bridge, strolling back to the Yang Family Martial Arts School, happening to pass that Turtle Longevity Hall, and couldn’t help glancing sideways.
Yet he saw, with heavy rain imminent, Turtle Longevity Hall bustling with activity; men, women, old and young in ragged clothes holding bowls and basins, lined up in two long queues.
Hong Yuan looked up; a wide red silk banner hung over the Turtle Longevity Hall plaque, with vigorous and graceful writing: ‘Owner’s Heavenly Joy, Blessings to Ten Thousand People’, the script elegant and forceful, evidently from a famous hand.
On the walls on either side of the door lintel, festive large floral balls hung down.
In front of Turtle Longevity Hall’s stone steps.
Several apothecary clerks set up two steaming large pots.
A short and fat man with eyes squinted into slits, looking like a steward, slowly stepped forward, took a long wooden ladle from a clerk, stirred the pot, then covered his nose, coughing a few times from the fumes, cursing the clerk.
This fat steward stood a bit farther from the pot and shouted: “Our Turtle Longevity Hall’s owner recently has great joyous news, so you all get to enjoy fortune! To celebrate the owner’s joy, this hall is giving out ‘Ten Thousand Blessings Porridge’ for three days—line up properly for it! After getting porridge, remember to give thanks!”
With that, the fat steward waved to several apothecary menial laborers, straightened his brand-new long robe, saw raindrops falling steadily, unwilling to get wet, and immediately turned to return to the apothecary.
Hong Yuan called out: “Mister, wait a moment.”
He stepped forward; a sour stench of slop hit his nose; glancing at the two boiling large pots, the porridge inside was murky, with faint yellowish grains stirring, a few shriveled black dates bobbing, and he frowned.
The fat steward turned back, seeing Hong Yuan’s extraordinary bearing and handsome demeanor, not daring to neglect, cupped his hands: “Young Master calls this old man—what are your instructions?”
“No instructions, just passing by and curious about this spectacle; may I ask what joyous event your hall has?” Hong Yuan said.
The fat steward smiled: “It’s our owner taking another concubine; we can’t go congratulate in person, but we still remotely wish him well and share the joy.”
“Your owner? Could it be that Turtle Longevity Mountain Master, Master Huang Guiling? If I recall right, he’s not young anymore, is he? In that regard…” Hong Yuan paused, glancing at the fat steward with his eyes.
The fat steward laughed heartily, also winking: “Exactly Master Huang; though nearing seventy, Young Master, don’t underestimate the old gentleman—Master Huang has taken brides nearly every year these years, if not quite…”
At this point, the fat steward’s face showed envy: “Our Master Huang is vigorous as dragon and tiger, sturdy in old age; it’s said he masters alchemy and bedroom arts, growing younger with age, stronger with years—how else could he handle so many beauties?”
Hong Yuan, hearing this, also praised, cupping hands: “Who’d think Master Huang has such prowess; when is Master Huang’s joyous day? I’m close kin and sworn friend with his beloved son Young Master Huang Shaotang; with the Huang family’s joy, I must go congratulate.”
The fat steward, hearing this, became more deferential: “Who’d think Young Master and Young Master Huang are old friends—my respects! The owner’s joyous day is the auspicious hour three days hence; this one is Chen Gui, honored by the owner to be one of Yangquan County Turtle Longevity Hall’s shopkeepers; Young Master, please put in good words for me then…”
Hong Yuan saw his fawning expression, face wrinkles bunched like they could squash flies, and shook his head—such makeup couldn’t save him either.
“Just restart directly!”
He turned and walked away.
Chen Gui was stunned, seeing the other’s back receding, spat: What kind of person, just say no to good words—how does he flip face so fast?
Indeed, the prettier the face, the worse the person!
‘Sigh, what a laborious fate I have—just killed Meng Yue and that Yan Laosan, now off again, can’t stop for a moment!’
‘Vast heavens, why so harsh to me?’
Hong Yuan looked up at the sky; thick ink-dyed clouds suddenly boomed with thunder; accompanied by ‘patter patter’ of shattering rain on green stone streets and roof tiles on both sides, the rain lines suddenly thickened.
Torrential rain poured down like a pail; soon low spots on the ground pooled with muddy water; sparse pedestrians on the street hurried past, splashing water.
Hong Yuan’s robes were soaked through in a blink, clinging tightly, but he didn’t care, still walking unhurriedly toward the martial school.
Having a good body means being this willful.
His classmate good brother, Huang Shaotang, selling him into the Biwu Immortal Realm—Hong Yuan hadn’t forgotten for a moment.
Originally after killing Yan Tieshan, his killing intent had mostly dissipated, planning to cultivate another ten days or half month before revenge; unexpectedly learned of Huang Guiling’s impending ‘joyous event’.
Couldn’t wait!
Couldn’t let Huang Guiling have his fun!
Sons repay fathers’ debts, fathers repay sons’.
Hong Yuan was a cultured scholar, valuing family reunion, so he’d give them a Family Reunion ending.
‘Good brother, wait a bit, I’ll come see you soon!’
Hong Yuan wouldn’t set off immediately; Yangquan County to Qingxu County was just over fifty li, with his current strength and physique, running there wouldn’t take half an hour.
Arriving at the martial school gate, he happened to see Yang Erhu sending out a group of four.
Yang Erhu’s clothes were also soaked, face slightly gloomy; the four being sent out were led by a twenty-something fair-skinned, quite refined brocade-robed young master.
Beside this brocade-robed young master were two gray-robed men; one held an oil-paper umbrella sheltering the young master from rain, his own clothes drenched, but he stood steady as a rock, expression unchanged.
Hong Yuan didn’t stop, his gaze falling as his steps reached the martial school steps, encountering the brocade-robed young master and his group.
Hong Yuan recognized the fourth man: skinny and shriveled, dry-skinned, the little old man who appeared that night escaping Biwu Immortal Realm, staying overnight in the town.
‘Dragon King Society?’
Hong Yuan had this thought.
That night at the town tavern, he’d overheard Yang Erhu, Wu Duxiong, and this little old man’s argument, learning the old man was from an organization called Dragon King Society, and Yang Erhu et al. could investigate and assault Biwu Immortal Realm thanks to Dragon King Society’s support.
At the time he’d thought, Yang Erhu et al. stormed Biwu Immortal Realm but only killed small fry; failed to catch Wei Zhenzhu and those so-called Immortal Aunts—Dragon King Society expended much effort for nothing, probably wouldn’t let it rest.
Now it had come true.
Dragon King Society people had come knocking.
The brocade-robed young master glanced at the oncoming Hong Yuan, face with a proper smile, turned to Yang Erhu: “Yang Guanzhu, I hope you consider my words.”
“No need, I won’t agree.” Yang Erhu’s face was ugly, but he flatly refused: “Young Master Hua, please go back.”
Young Master Hua didn’t get angry, smile unchanged, softly: “Nothing is absolute; Yang Guanzhu refuses now, maybe after thinking a few days, you’ll change your mind.”
Then, his gaze shifted to Hong Yuan, sizing him up, smiled: “This is…”
The shriveled little old man bowed: “This one came from that place, but now accepted as disciple by Yang Guanzhu.”
“Oh!” Young Master Hua raised a brow, nodded with a smile: “Indeed talented in appearance… Yang Guanzhu, successor secured; pity I came hastily, no gift prepared—lost etiquette.”
Without waiting for Yang Erhu or Hong Yuan to reply, he lightly laughed and stepped into the continuous rain curtain, flanked by two guards.
“Teacher, who are these people?” Hong Yuan watched the four backs vanish in the rain, asked.
“Irrelevant people, no need to mention.” Yang Erhu shook his head, looking tired; he rubbed his glabella, saw Hong Yuan’s wet clothes: “You go change into dry ones first!”
“No rush, Teacher; I have words for you.”
For today’s actions, Hong Yuan had no intent to hide from Yang Erhu—it was meaningless.
Moreover, Meng Yue’s background needed explaining to Yang Erhu.
Seeing Hong Yuan’s serious expression, Yang Erhu perked up, nodded; the two walked inside one after another.
Inside the martial school, the apprentices and nominal disciples hadn’t all left; seven or eight disciples sheltered under the eaves from rain.
Hong Yuan nodded to the apprentices, passed through the corridor to the backyard.
Yang Erhu looked to Hong Yuan, wanting to know what he had to say; Hong Yuan smiled: “Teacher, look at this first.”
As he spoke, braving the impenetrable rain curtain, he reached the courtyard jujube wood stakes, shouted, exhaled and voiced, punched out.
Thud!
A fist print stamped on one jujube wood stake; Hong Yuan didn’t stop, spun like a gale, feet swift as a released hare, thud thud two more punches on another two jujube wood stakes.
While Yang Erhu was astonished, ‘crack crack crack’ three sounds exploded almost simultaneously; the midsections of the three stakes hit by Hong Yuan’s fists burst open together, wood chips splintering and flying.
Yang Erhu’s eyes instantly went wide, dumbfounded!
