Old Xiang wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes.

Now that his wife had awakened, he could finally return to his shift at the prison.

But today, to his colleagues, Old Xiang seemed even stranger than usual.

After his shift ended, he went to the market and bought two live fish and a live hen, then hurried home.

He didn’t know what to do.

Life still had to go on.

All he could do was hope for a miracle. Maybe one day, if he encountered another immortal master, he could get his son healed.

Thinking of the Revered Soul Banner in his possession, Old Xiang decided to trade it for a glimmer of hope.

It was a treasured item from that demonic cultivator.

On their way back, it had protected them many times, powerful and strange.

If he offered it to a cultivator, perhaps he could persuade them to heal his son.

This was the best solution he had come up with after thinking about it all day.

He was just about to go home and tell his wife and son this good news.

He opened the door.

Walked into the inner hall.

What he saw made him freeze in place.

The live fish and hen slipped from his hands and dropped to the ground.

His paralyzed son and the wife who had been tending to him quietly, both had no breath left.

He rushed forward in a panic.

On the floor were scattered packets of rat poison and the foam-flecked lips of his wife and son.

He collapsed to his knees, utterly broken.

“Ah-!!”

A cry of anguish.

Like the howl of a wounded beast.

No one knew how long passed.

Curled on the ground, Old Xiang slowly stood up.

He was still old, and his body was even more hunched.

But he looked like he had awakened.

The fire in his eyes reignited.

That thing was called hatred.

Tu Shanjun had once thought Old Xiang lived too repressively, but now, Old Xiang resembled someone else.

Li Qingfeng.

Hatred could awaken a man.

Let alone a man who had nothing left.

He was like a restless ghost clinging to the world, with only one purpose, revenge.

He sharpened his blade, tucked away a dagger, brought poison and knockout powder.

Took up the Revered Soul Banner.

Then donned a black robe and headed to the market.

At night, Liang City looked like a watercolor painting of mountains and rivers.

Or like a beautiful girl in her boudoir, painting her brows and fanning herself, dressing herself up.

The lights were bright, and pleasure boats glided on the Little Ice River.

Melodies floated gently in the air.

Old Xiang moved quickly and knocked on the small door he had passed through that morning.

Short Rat was a little surprised. Usually, ten days or half a month would pass without seeing Old Xiang. Why was he showing up so frequently lately?

“I want to see Old Ghost.”

Old Xiang’s voice was hoarse, his bloodshot eyes exposed beneath his hood.

Short Rat didn’t stop him. By now, Old Ghost had already returned from his shift. “Lord Xiang, please come in.”

There weren’t many people in the courtyard, and not many even knew this place existed.

Soon, the cold and eerie Old Ghost walked out.

“I want to know where my son went a few days ago.”

Old Xiang kept his one remaining hand resting on the knife at his waist.

Old Ghost didn’t say much. He took out a silk scroll and handed it to Old Xiang. “Lord Xiang, this is the list of those who harmed your son. As for who’s behind them, I couldn’t find out.”

His tone carried regret. After all, he was just a rat in Liang City’s underworld.

Even if he was a minor rat king in his own right, he would still die if he met a cat.

And those clad in official garb were the cats.

The high-ranking nobles, those were tigers even fiercer than cats.

Filth like them who were scurrying in the gutters couldn’t afford to provoke such beings.

Just giving Old Xiang this list was already a huge risk.

No one knew if the nobles above might be angered by this and bring destruction down on them.

Old Xiang snatched the scroll. His voice was icy: “From now on, our debt is settled.”

“We owe each other nothing.”

With that, he turned and left.

Short Rat frowned and protested angrily, “What an ungrateful, stubborn old man! Boss, you risked so much to find those people for him, and that’s the thanks you get?”

“And we didn’t even take a coin from him!”

Old Ghost’s expression was complicated. He shook his head and said, “Lord Xiang just doesn’t want to drag us down with him.”

“Besides, we didn’t take his money not just because of kindness. Lord Xiang considered us his own and would protect us.”

“This matter is complicated. The nobles are playing a dangerous game, and innocent people are caught in the crossfire. The noble backing Lord Xiang must’ve fallen. Even if those people hand over their power, they’ll be purged.”

“That poor guy... He’ll spend the rest of his life in bed.”

At this, the eerie Old Ghost’s face twisted with hatred before returning to normal.

He’d seen plenty of things like this.

Raised in the sewers, he had long grown familiar with bloodshed and schemes.

Now, he was merely a bit closer to the fire.

Short Rat still wanted to argue his point and added, “Boss, we just gave him a name list. Old Xiang won’t dare act on it.”

“He’s old.”

That one sentence, he’s old, seemed to say all there was to say about loyalty, spirit, and dignity.

Old Ghost didn’t argue.

It was true.

Xiang Hu was old now.

No longer the Baihu Commander of the Embroidered Guards, once among the finest experts of the 24 departments.

The twilight of a hero, there was no better description.

Old Xiang hunched as he walked.

Even though his strength had waned, he was still a second-rate martial artist, his internal energy thick and robust.

He had trained in his family’s martial arts for forty or fifty years.

His techniques were fluid and instinctive.

He’d survived mountains of corpses and seas of blood, monsters and ghosts couldn’t take his life.

To kill again was just a return to his old trade.

“Wild Dog Gang.”

The gambling den was bustling.

Dim lights glowed.

Gamblers with bloodshot eyes shouted loudly about the points they bet on, slamming tables with shaking force.

Crowds pressed shoulder to shoulder.

From time to time, someone screamed for more money.

There were even degenerate gamblers being thrown out by the gambling den’s fierce guards.

In the back hall of the casino, a man with a scar on his face was working away energetically, soaked in sweat.

Just as he was reaching the end, he suddenly felt something cold on his neck.

A chill spread through him. He instantly collapsed.

He was about to shout when a sharp dagger pressed against his neck, slicing skin and drawing blood.

Looking down, he saw the woman beneath him had already fainted.

“Please, great hero, spare my life!”

“Spare me!”

“I didn’t defile some decent woman. This one’s just a brothel girl from a hidden alley behind Leaning Red Brothel!”

Scarface raised his hands and quickly explained.

He was terrified this might be some righteous swordsman who had heard rumors of his cruelty and come for vengeance.

Just one encounter and he knew he was no match.

The man behind him was definitely a great expert.

He’d knocked the woman out without a sound and had a dagger at his throat, forcing him to tilt his neck helplessly.

If he lost his head because of some baseless gossip, he’d die a very unjust death.

“Wild Dog Gang, Chen Quan.”

“One of the deputy leaders of the Wild Dog Gang.” The voice was aged but powerful, full of breath.

It sounded strangely familiar.

But no matter how hard Chen Quan tried, he couldn’t remember where he’d heard it before.

“I’ve come to ask you one question. Answer well, and you live.”

“Answer poorly, and life will be worse than death.”

As a former Baihu Commander of the Embroidered Guards, he naturally mastered interrogation techniques most could never learn.

He didn’t even need proof. If he had a suspicion, he could extract the truth.

And since he couldn’t drag someone back to the prison, he would interrogate them on the spot before killing them, to get what he needed.

He had countless ways to make Chen Quan talk.

“Ask, great sir,” Chen Quan answered quickly.

“Who ordered you to cripple Xiang Wen?”

At the question, Chen Quan’s pupils shrank violently. Terror filled his brown eyes as he opened his mouth to shout, “You’re-!”

Crack.

Old Xiang’s thumb twisted, Chen Quan’s jaw was instantly dislocated.

His thumb pressed beneath the jawbone.

Chen Quan realized in horror that he couldn’t make a sound.

Even the mute could let out whimpers, but he now couldn’t even do that. It was as if he had lost the ability to speak.

Tu Shanjun couldn’t help but murmur, “Good technique.”

Even the mundane world had its strengths.

They couldn’t cultivate, but they had refined martial arts to the extreme, with precision in controlling meridians and acupoints.

(Chapter End)