A table brimming with dishes, some exquisitely prepared from demonic beast flesh and blood.

Excluding liquor, the food alone cost over thirty silver dollars—this after Deyun Tower gave a thirty-percent discount out of respect for Third Young Master Qi.

Xiangzi had truly splurged this time—of course, with his appetite, half the dishes ended up in his stomach.

Sated with wine and food, the lads drank some plum wine, their faces flushed with a rosy glow.

This wine was Xiangzi’s choice; the first time he came with Liu Tang and Uncle Jie, this was what they drank.

Yet compared to the mellow warmth of back then, this batch of plum wine tasted somewhat coarser.

Suddenly, Qi Ruiliang spoke slowly: “Brother Li, you chose Feng Family Village this time—may I ask why? If there’s anything I, Qi, can help with, don’t hesitate to say.”

Xiangzi smiled.

He had initiated this gathering today partly for this reason.

After all, Feng Family Village was a strategic hub and Clear Gang territory. With this Third Young Master Qi’s covert assistance, the Wind Justice Courtyard errand would go smoother.

“Nothing special. Just saw that Feng Family Village offers high stipends. Unlike you, Young Master Qi, I still have to risk my life for some broth money.”

Qi Ruiliang smiled, ignoring the teasing in his words, and pulled a map from his robes.

The map was fine cowhide paper, exquisitely made, with a clear scale marked in the corner.

Jiang Wangshui and Xu Xiaoliu tactfully pushed the liquor and dishes aside; the map unfurled across the table.

Qi Ruiliang’s expression turned serious as he pointed to areas around Feng Family Village, explaining in detail.

Compared to that senior brother from Four Seas Courtyard, Qi Ruiliang—as the third son of the Qi family—naturally knew far more.

He not only detailed the forces near Feng Family Village but laid out the internal situation crystal clear.

Jiang Wangshui and Xu Xiaoliu listened with pounding hearts: What? Not only demonic beasts but horse bandits too?

Why would Brother Xiang choose such a risky place?

—

“Brother Li, if you had chosen elsewhere, I could guarantee your full six-month stipend with ease and comfort.”

“But Feng Family Village’s position is too critical, handling the resource transport for nearly half of Forty-Nine City. Though nominally Clear Gang territory, that village head secretly colludes with many forces to counterbalance our Clear Gang disciples.”

Qi Ruiliang sighed: “Brother Li, I still advise you—once in Feng Family Village, mind nothing. With your Baolin Martial Hall disciple status and Clear Gang backing, that Old Village Head Feng is clever enough not to trouble you unprovoked.”

Xiangzi’s brows knitted tightly.

This Feng Family Village seemed even more complex than imagined, its internal forces deeply entrenched.

Even the Clear Gang appeared to fear that village head by three parts?

It seemed the Wind Justice Courtyard task would be no easy feat.

That made sense—take a man’s money, eliminate his troubles.

With Courtyard Master Xi offering such a high price, how could it be simple?

—

A rhythmic knock sounded; a genial smiling face peeked in.

“Young sirs, hope I’m not interrupting?” Xu Bin smiled as he entered, but paused at the door upon seeing the map on the table.

Xiangzi carefully folded the map into his rattan case before smiling: “Of course not.”

Xu Bin’s gaze shifted to Qi Ruiliang. Seeing the young master say nothing, he gauged the situation—it seemed among these few, Master Xiang was subtly the leader?

Xu Bin smiled and cautiously sat beside Xu Xiaoliu.

Another round of toasts followed.

Another round, yet Xu Bin—older than the lads by a good margin—was exceedingly respectful to the youths, appearing somewhat comical.

But his face remained smiling, as if he relished it.

Moments later, having familiarized himself, Xu Bin rose to leave but was pulled back by Xiangzi.

“Young Master Xu, one more thing to ask.”

“Master Xiang, ask away—I, Xu Bin, will speak without reserve!”

“Nowadays, what’s that ‘Fat Master’ in the southern city busy with every day?”

Xiangzi’s face beamed, but Xu Bin felt as if plunged into an ice cellar.

The big fellow swirled his wine cup, expression calm: “Heard Detai Rickshaw Yard has been uneasy lately—precisely because of this Fat Master?”

Xu Bin’s body jolted; he looked up.

On Xiangzi’s no-longer-swarthy face was unmasked ferocity.

—

Two days later,

Deep into the night.

Ever since the Great Shun dynasty’s dragon banner fell, Forty-Nine City had no curfew.

Aside from the embassy district habitually closing gates at midnight, the other city sectors blazed with lights.

But for sheer liveliness, nothing beat the gambling dens dotting the eastern city.

Especially the eastern city’s premier bustling spot—Four Seas Gambling House, even more vibrant at night.

Fashionable neon lights bathed this gilded magnificent structure, making the two stone lions outside the gate shimmer with flowing colors.

Four Seas Gambling House had five floors.

The first-floor hall was for casual patrons—the largest space, offering everything from traditional pai gow and dice cups to newer card games and roulette.

As long as one’s pockets held enough silver dollars, short-shirted laborers and fashionable Western-suited gentlemen could battle it out at the same table.

The second floor required a threshold—to enter, pay five silver dollars.

The third floor and above were places ordinary folk with money could scarcely glimpse.

—

The first floor buzzed with clamor.

Passing through the grand revolving door wreathed in faint white mist, the second floor grew quieter.

In elegant compartments separated by sheer yarn screens, groups of three to five gathered around gambling tables.

Some cradled Dragon Well tea; others held foreign liquor transported thousands of li by steam airships.

Bronze pipes embedded in the ceiling clicked softly, delivering steam engine warmth to every corner.

The night wind was chilly, yet the second floor felt like spring, brimming with bright cheer.

Even the serving girls weaving through were short-skirted beauties bearing silver trays, their white thighs flashing.

The girls were lovely, the attendants capable—every face bore a flawless smile, the curve of each seemingly identical.

Unlike the first floor’s open hall, second-floor tables used chips, not silver dollars.

Amid the rattle of dice cups and clack of chips, gamblers’ eyes rose and fell—ecstatic one moment, dismal the next.

In an instant: heaven or hell.

At a pai gow table on the second floor, a pot-bellied fat man was in high spirits—a tall stack of colorful chips before him.

“Heh heh, Young Master Xu, never expected you to suddenly invite me today. Truly just for gambling?”

“They say you’re the ‘Eastern City Saint Hand,’ but your luck tonight is truly poor.”

Across the table,

Xu Bin could only force a bitter smile: “Fat Master, before you, how dare I, Xu Bin, claim ‘Saint Hand’? Merely a defeated subordinate!”

Hearing this, the fat on Fatty Fan’s face quivered, squeezing out a smug grin.

In his view, Xu Bin was yielding.

Pointless, though.

Since that young master of the Li family was determined to reach into the eastern city, how could a mere Detai Rickshaw Yard block him?

If not for consideration of the lady proprietress behind Four Seas Gambling House, this kid’s life would likely be long gone.

Thinking this, Fatty Fan’s face twisted into a ferocious smile as he pushed over his pai gow tiles.

Amid the clinking collisions, the fat on his bare arms rippled like waves.

“Supreme Treasure! Heh heh, Young Master Xu, our luck tonight is truly splendid!”

The words barely left his mouth when cheers erupted nearby: “Fat Master is mighty.”

Fatty Fan’s greasy lips curved into an utterly smug arc, yet he rose: “Wait while Fat Master takes a piss.”

—

At a poker table on the second floor, a big fellow tossed down his cards: “Lost this round.”

The gamblers across exhaled in relief—damn it, finally won one!

This big fellow wore a fitting dark-blue long robe, appearing refined and gentle, even sporting glasses.

Behind his high chip stack, his face showed no frustration from losing; instead, a faint smile: “Luck’s been too good tonight. Time to lose a bit.”

The gamblers across felt even more relieved—good heavens, if you kept winning, we’d lose even our underpants tonight.

Yet they failed to notice—his mind seemed not on the gambling table.

Like now, behind those gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes subtly fixed on the casino’s revolving door nearby.

Suddenly, his brow arched sharply—like twin short spears!

The door was tall, over a zhang high, each panel thick golden wood reinforced with iron gears, weighing hundreds of jin.

Several arm-thick brass pipes pierced the wood from bottom to top, drawing power from the steam engine hidden beneath.

Under pneumatic pressure, gears meshed exquisitely, rotating the massive doors at an elegant pace.

Aside from the embassy district, steam engines were rare in Forty-Nine City—let alone using a precious one to drive revolving doors.

Worthy of Forty-Nine City’s most prosperous casino; in ingenuity and grandeur alone, none could compare.

The doors’ polished metal inlays were bright enough to reflect figures.

And now,

Xiangzi peered through the angled reflection on the metal, spotting the fat man in the corner rising leisurely.

Hard to imagine this was human vision.

Since advancing to the ninth rank, this was Xiangzi’s first unrestrained display of the ability.

He lowered his head, avoiding the passing Fatty Fan,

Casually tossing a chip to a nearby charming serving girl and taking a whiskey in return.

Compared to his previous life’s taste, this cup was clearly fiercer.

The liquor burned down his throat like fire.

A certain emotion in Xiangzi’s heart likewise surged.

—

Bright bulbs illuminated the corridor.

Fatty Fan hitched his pants, eagerly entering the lavatory.

Two burly men stationed themselves at the door.

Worthy of the southern city’s current top Fat Master—even a bathroom break warranted two ninth-rank martial artist guards.

Suddenly,

A rhythmic footfall echoed in the silent corridor.

At the end of the line of sight, a big fellow with gold-rimmed glasses approached.

“Kid, what’re you doing? Scram aside. Wait till our Fat Master’s done!”

One guard barked first, tone arrogant.

Xiangzi smiled, footsteps unchanged. The qi-blood crimson pearl in his dantian flashed abruptly—frigid aura swept the entire corridor.

The guard sensed something amiss, but before he could speak, his vision blurred—

The man paused mid-step.

The next instant, he was already before him.

“You—”

The guard’s words choked in his throat—blocked by a hand chop.

Thud. Almost simultaneously, the chop rose and fell again—another muffled thud.

The two guards’ eyes rolled white as they slumped limply.

No techniques, no weapons—just overwhelmingly savage qi and blood ending two ninth-rank entry realm martial artists.

Xiangzi’s hand chop turned to a claw, grabbing the guards like chicks, intending to stuff them into the adjacent women’s lavatory.

Just then,

The lavatory door opened, revealing an enchantingly beautiful face.

Xiangzi paused—this was an unplanned coincidence.

Before the woman could speak, a large hand covered her face.

“Beauty, no screaming, no funny ideas.”

“Stay here obediently for a quarter-hour, and I won’t kill you.”

The woman’s eyes sharpened; she nodded.

Xiangzi slowly released his hand.

And so, the woman truly curled up, sitting directly on the floor—

Flanked by two utterly silent corpses.

Xiangzi’s brow lifted; his gaze swept her exquisitely featured face. He chuckled: “A quarter-hour—if a moment early or late, you die.”

The woman nodded heavily.

Then, under her gaze,

Xiangzi turned and gently pushed open the opposite door.

—

Amid the rush of water,

Fatty Fan frowned—were those two outside useless? Knowing I’m in here, they let a stranger in?

Reflected in his eyes was a youthful face behind gold-rimmed glasses.

For some reason, Fatty Fan found him vaguely familiar?

“Fat Master, long time no see. I’ve missed you dearly,” the man said softly.

Abruptly, Fatty Fan’s pupils contracted in shock.

“You’re—”

Before the words finished, ferocious fist wind erupted.

Crack. A crisp snap.

Fatty Fan’s abdominal ribs shattered completely.

The fist wind layered with Bright Force deflated his qi and blood like a punctured ball, unable to regroup.

Xiangzi seized his neck—that obese body in his grasp like a child’s.

He flung open the window; surging night wind billowed in.

A light step on the sill spread vigor; the glass shattered inch by inch.

Xiangzi’s figure vanished into the thick night.

—

On the cold floor,

The woman rubbed her ankle—perhaps from squatting too hastily; it was swollen.

She exhaled long, pulling a fine gold-inlaid pocket watch from her robes.

Only when the hand reached the quarter-hour mark did she brace against the wall and slowly stand.

Having suddenly encountered such peril, her face showed little fear.

Glancing coldly at the two corpses, she stepped into the corridor, just as gambling house guards on patrol arrived.

“Proprietress Feng, what are you doing here?” The guard paused.

Perhaps from Xiangzi’s earlier hand over her mouth, her lip rouge was smudged—yet far from disheveled, it lent her captivating face an indescribable allure.

This woman who controlled all of Four Seas Gambling House said coldly: “Useless. People are dead, and only now you come.”

“Seal the corridor.”

“Send word to the police department—tell them Fatty Fan has just been abducted.”

Hearing this, the guard’s face paled; he hurried back.

The woman stood quietly, turning to gaze at the shattered window.

An ordinary, refined face surfaced in her mind.

Who dared strike at the southern city’s Fat Master in Four Seas Gambling House?

And judging by that incomparably sharp movement, likely ninth-rank great accomplishment realm.

No.

Perhaps… already eighth rank.