The next day, the light was perfect.

Xiangzi first worked through several stance sets, then ran Mind-Intent Six Harmonies Fist and Jade Ring Steps once more before leisurely withdrawing.

“Hey, Master Xiang, that fist art… that footwork… swift as a startled hare, nimble as an ape, still as an ancient pine. This Ban truly admires you!”

A fat face poked out from the doorway.

“Master Xiang, as you ordered, all the demon beasts are loaded on the carts. Ready to go anytime.”

Xiangzi smiled and nodded. “Much obliged, Deputy Incense Master Ban.”

“Eh, serving Master Xiang—how could it be trouble?” The smile on the fat face grew wider.

Yet Ban Zhiyong was full of doubts inside. They could clearly transport through Clear Gang lines to Forty-Nine City for a higher price—why insist on coming all the way to Feng Family Village?

He naturally dared not ask, but a guess formed—this seemingly overbearing Master Xiang’s posting to Nanyuan Clear Gang was far from simple.

—

Feng Family Village was divided into inner and outer.

Non-Feng surnamed were barred from the inner.

The outer village split east and west, dedicated to receiving guests from all directions—whether heading east to Forty-Nine City or south to risk their lives in Little Blue Garment Ridge, none could bypass Feng Family Village.

This geographical advantage was the foundation that let Feng Family endure for over a century.

The Feng surname even had ties to the Great Shun Dynasty’s imperial house—decades ago, a Feng empress.

The family rose on outer-relative influence—at their peak, they monopolized demon beast meat trade outside Forty-Nine City, exactly Clear Gang’s business now.

Xiangzi’s group entered the fortified town—bustling everywhere.

Shops stretched endlessly, eaves overlapping, colorful pennants high to attract customers.

Taverns, teahouses, inns, gambling dens, pawnshops—everything found in Feng outer village.

Demon beast meat trade, banned in Forty-Nine City, was no shameful business here, far from the emperor’s reach.

These chaotic times, warlords everywhere—Marshal Zhang’s guns only ruled his own patch.

National Assembly gentlemen in fine suits quarreled over laws, but it meant nothing here.

No king’s law—only Feng house rules.

In the vast outer village, only knife-bearing Feng guards patrolled; not a single police officer in sight.

Now, those patrolling guards frowned at the lazily strolling giant—

Here comes the untouchable plague again!

But when they saw what the carts behind him carried, they were stunned.

Demon beasts? Where did this lord get so many?

And at that moment,

Feng Hong, catching the scene, darkened further—this Master Xiang wasn’t scared off by the beasts… he feasted on them instead.

Raised in Feng Village, Feng Hong knew how troublesome wolf demons were.

Even Feng hunting teams went fully armed in squads.

Yet this lord, in one night with Clear Gang rabble, killed three wolf demons.

Truly underestimated this Ninth Grade who shocked all Baolin Martial Hall as a “peerless genius.”

But Feng Hong was wrong.

Xiangzi hadn’t hunted with Clear Gang.

He did it alone.

—

“Sir… you… you have too many demon beasts. My humble shop is small-time; I truly can’t take them all.”

At a butcher’s door, the middle-aged owner trembled before the bloody carcasses.

“And Second Master Wen decreed all demon beast meat must be uniformly purchased by Feng Family. Doing business under Feng roof… I dare not disobey.”

Xiangzi smiled softly. “Oh? Such rules? Is Feng Family… grander than the Grand Marshal’s Mansion?”

The owner dared not reply, only bowing repeatedly.

Just then, a warm refined voice sounded.

“Master Xiang, don’t trouble Owner Xu. Feng Family will take all these demon beasts you hunted.”

The speaker was a silk-robed, elegant middle-aged man, quite handsome yet paper-pale—no blood color even under sunlight.

But his eyes were bright and exceedingly kind.

“Oh, Second Master Wen himself—my blunder! Please forgive me!” Xiangzi laughed, cupping fists toward the refined man.

This was Feng Village’s nominal lord—known as “Second Master Wen,” Feng Wen.

The very Young Master Feng the old lord sent to probe Xiangzi earlier.

Feng Wen smiled gently, returning the courtesy. “Master Xiang doing business in Feng Village honors us. We’ll take all these beasts—at twenty percent above market!”

Hearing this, Ban Zhiyong behind Xiangzi blinked, then sighed inwardly—no wonder Master Xiang came here to sell… he planned to bleed Feng Family all along.

Xiangzi beamed. “Deal! Second Master Wen is as magnanimous as ever—can’t compare.”

Feng Wen’s smile unchanged, cupped fists, seemingly unbothered by the losing deal.

—

A somewhat crude teahouse.

Several worn low tables, small stools around.

A blackened purple-copper kettle on the stove steamed, hot water swirling coarse tea leaves, releasing a rough yet clear fragrance.

Not fine Dragon Well or Biluochun—just broken ends sifted out.

Forty-Nine City folk called it “high-foam tea” for face—one copper for a big bowl.

With travelers from everywhere in Feng Village, accents mixed; they called it simply—rough tea.

The old tea-maker’s hands shook today—especially with the murderous Feng guards outside unsettling him.

No wonder—who expected the most refined Second Master Wen to drink here?

Feng Wen lifted the small copper pot, pouring a shallow bowl for the giant opposite, then a smaller one for himself.

Coarse tea soup with leaf bits—Feng Wen seemed not to notice, sipped, and smiled. “Master Xiang has good taste. Without your recommendation, I wouldn’t know our village had such an authentic teahouse.”

Xiangzi chuckled. “Second Master Wen is used to fine tea—this change of taste is just novel.”

Feng Wen laughed, draining his bowl. “Heard Master Xiang repaired that residence outside T-Junction Bridge yesterday? If you need hands or materials, Feng Family has plenty ready.”

“Oh?” Xiangzi smiled warmly. “I also heard Feng Family is recruiting refugees to haul demon beast meat from Little Blue Garment Ridge—still have extra hands?”

Feng Wen’s teacup paused.

This tore the smiling facade completely.

Clear Gang stood in Forty-Nine City on demon beast meat trade. With Nanyuan railway, they feared no Feng tricks.

But Feng using terrain advantage to transport and sell openly and covertly touched Clear Gang’s taboo.

“May I ask if Master Xiang speaks as Baolin Martial Hall disciple… or Clear Gang guest?” Feng Wen leaned forward, refilling Xiangzi’s tea.

Xiangzi smiled. “Just a rough martial artist—don’t understand these things. Curious, that’s all. If Second Master Wen doesn’t wish to say, no matter.”

Feng Wen paused, gazing deeply at the seemingly crude giant.

Was this man truly slick as a lotus leaf… or genuinely simple-minded?

Then he smiled faintly. “Master Xiang jests. With your bright future, no need to worry over mundane affairs.”

“If you focus on slaying demon beasts and honing cultivation, Feng Family will buy all you hunt at today’s price.”

Xiangzi naturally agreed smilingly. “Many thanks, Second Master Wen. Just say the word if anything needed.”

Hearing this, Feng Wen smiled, earnestly cupping fists. “Master Xiang is straightforward—I won’t hide it.”

“I do have one request.”

Xiangzi’s smile unchanged, as if expecting it. “Please speak plainly, Second Master Wen.”

Feng Wen said softly, “If convenient… could Master Xiang leave T-Junction Bridge?”

“If you agree, Feng Family will build you a grand residence—outer village or inner compound—anywhere you fancy, we gift freely.”

Xiangzi’s eyes narrowed slightly. After a moment’s thought, he said lightly, “Second Master Wen… I need to consider this.”

“Naturally.” Feng Wen smiled, placing several silver dollars on the table. “Then I won’t disturb you further. Come find me in the outer village anytime.”

“Feng Family sincerely wishes to befriend Master Xiang.”

Xiangzi nodded, smile warm.

But as Feng Wen turned to leave, Xiangzi suddenly spoke. “Ai, almost forgot something.”

“When I was at Baolin Martial Hall, I had a best friend—Jiang Wangshui.”

Feng Wen paused, eyes flickering faintly. Turning back, his flawless smile returned. “Any instructions, Master Xiang?”

Xiangzi drained his tea, wiped his mouth.

“My friend’s elder brother, also a Baolin outer disciple, vanished near Feng Village two months ago. Odd, isn’t it?”

“My friend is frantic—wants to come searching, can’t stop him.”

“Has Second Master Wen… heard anything about this person?”

Feng Wen’s smile unchanged, cupped fists. “Master Xiang, you see how many travelers pass daily—I can’t remember one martial artist. But if needed, I can send men to ask at inns and hostels.”

“Then I’ll owe Second Master Wen a favor.” Xiangzi stood carelessly, giving a lazy half-bow.

“No trouble… happy to help.”

They exchanged warm pleasantries at the door before parting.

To outsiders, old friends reunited.

After Feng people left, Xiangzi holding his empty bowl showed no expression—yet cold sweat ran down his spine.

From start to finish, Second Master Wen never once asked the missing martial artist’s name—

He only mentioned Jiang Wangshui, yet Second Master Wen seemed certain who the missing brother was?

This famously cautious, polished man—if truly helping, how could he make such a slip?

Only one possibility—he already knew who was missing!

—

Feng Wen left the teahouse, made his usual outer village rounds, and only returned to the inner when night fell.

Standing before the black-lacquered fortress tower, he exhaled, suppressing the turmoil within.

This was the inner village’s tallest building—and Old Lord Feng’s residence.

The elder hated light; the whole tower lit only by flickering candles.

On the third floor, seeing the wheelchair-bound old man, Feng Wen knelt. “Father.”

The wheelchair turned slowly on blue bricks; a smile appeared on the pale face, but hearing the report, his brows raised. “Wen’er, you say… that Baolin disciple brought demon beast meat to our outer village today?”

Feng Wen replied, “Yes. Three wolf demons and one Ninth Grade beast—all killed with one spear thrust to the throat.”

The elder frowned—a mere Ninth Grade entry killing three wolf demons?

Even with Clear Gang trash helping, this strength was terrifying.

Forty-Nine City rumors weren’t false—Baolin picked up a treasure.

“His background checked?”

“Replying Father—this man’s origins are strange. I asked Police Department; no records before entering the hall. Only know he entered on Lin Junqing’s recommendation.”

“Oh, Lin Junqing?” The elder’s lips curved faintly. “He’s connected to Lin Junqing?”

Perhaps the name stirred memories from over a decade ago; he tapped the rattan armrest—Feng Fu approached, wheeling him to the window.

The elder lifted a corner of the black curtain; blood-like sunset fell on his face, adding color to the deathly pale.

“Baolin must have erased the boy’s traces,” the elder said calmly. “Someone big in Baolin favors him.”

“Rise—the floor is cold.”

The curtain closed.

Wheels ground dully on stone.

Feng Wen stood slowly, face impassive. “Father… this man isn’t simple. Not as reckless as he seems.”

“Oh? Explain,” the elder’s brow raised.

Feng Wen smiled, lowering his head. “No real evidence—just a feeling.”

“Wen’er, caution is good, but too much is indecisiveness,” the elder smiled gently. “I heard about this afternoon—you paid twenty percent above market.”

Feng Wen’s expression stiffened.

The elder continued slowly, “Our Feng Family has stood a century here. Less than Forty-Nine City’s three halls, but we have our own confidence.”

“No matter how talented, he’s just an outer disciple. You, the Feng lord, losing poise before a Ninth Grade outer disciple—ridiculous.”

His gaze fell heavy on Feng Wen. “This is Feng Family’s face.”

Thump.

Feng Wen knelt again, head bowed. “Father, your son was wrong.”

The elder was silent long, then said softly,

“I know your worry—months ago, a Baolin Ninth Grade vanished outside our village.”

“But outside is Little Blue Garment Ridge—even Eighth Grade fall commonly.”

“With your status today, acting so carefully toward a newcomer—wouldn’t that invite suspicion?”

“I’m old. Feng Family will rely on you to steer. Need I teach you measure?”

Feng Wen looked up, perfect fearful respect. “Father’s lesson is right. Your son understands.”

Watching his only son, the elder softened. “Now we’ve come this far—the ship is too big to turn easily. Between Revival and Baolin, we must choose.”

“Small fry can hedge; once our Feng Family enters the game, no retreat.”

His tone mild, but the edge unmistakable.

“If he just wants money, fine—we have plenty silver dollars.”

“But holding T-Junction Bridge… that won’t do.”

At this, worry flashed in Feng Wen’s eyes. “Father… should we tell the Li Family to pause?”

The elder pondered, then smiled. “Pause over one Ninth Grade?”

“He’s entry-grade—dare he enter deep into Little Blue Garment Ridge?”

“King Chuang has returned to Three Strongholds Nine Lands, forces strong, our old friend under greater pressure—spending like water. Cut this line, how do we explain to Feng Family?”

Feng Wen paused, wanted to speak, but finally said slowly, “Your son understands. I’ll speak with that Ninth Grade again.”

The elder nodded, tapped the armrest again. “A-Fu, go to Three Lands Nine Strongholds. If Wen’er’s talks fail… no choice then.”

Feng Fu nodded, old face expressionless.

Feng Wen’s heart jolted, but could only agree.

—

Ten peaceful days passed.

Second Master Wen visited several times, always with rich gifts.

Gifts accepted, but Xiangzi dodged the topic, vague words pushing him to speak with Liu Futang.

How could Feng negotiate properly with Clear Gang? Seizing territory was zero-sum; Clear Gang’s contraction was helpless.

If spoken plainly, would Forty-Nine City’s top gang still have face?

Moreover, T-Junction Bridge’s strategic position guarded the road from Forty-Nine City to Little Blue Garment Ridge—countless Clear Gang lives carved this route.

Blame Little Blue Garment Ridge’s special terrain.

A huge crescent valley—upper tip linked to perilous Great Blue Garment Ridge, where even inner disciples of the three halls dared not tread lightly.

The lower tip was T-Junction Bridge and Nanyuan area.

Though other exits existed in the valley bottom, none knew safe routes—none dared approach.

In this world, mine routes were everything—whoever mapped a safe path dominated.

Like the Li Family, thriving centuries on one mine line.

Little Blue Garment Ridge complex, beast-infested—no power could monopolize.

Over time, delicate balance formed.

Thus Little Blue Garment Ridge became training grounds for the three halls’ disciples.

Disciples entered in batches; Clear Gang guided and handled logistics, buying beast flesh, blood, skins at high prices—business and favors.

Little Blue Garment Ridge was half Clear Gang’s foundation.

After the Great Shun banner fell, Forty-Nine City vicinity became chaos—first Marshal Cao, then Zhang.

Now Three Strongholds Nine Lands bandits eyed the ridge hungrily—Clear Gang weakened these years.

—

Why Feng wanted T-Junction Bridge, Xiangzi didn’t understand—but he absolutely could not yield now.

First, as guest martial artist representing Baolin—backing down lost Baolin face.

Second… he needed this place more.

Or rather, from the start, he deliberately helped Clear Gang hold it.

Currently, the best place to raise cultivation and temper body was here.

Untapped primal wilderness mine—mineral dust suppressed martial blood energy stronger—greater benefit to Xiangzi.

Not to mention demon beast meat traded for hefty silver.

With his drug-resistant physique, money flowed like water—hundreds from those three wolves days ago already became skin-grinding, bone-quenching broths.

Now all spent.

But gains huge—he was one step from Ninth Grade minor accomplishment.

From the hall’s Ninth Grade life-death refinement to now, barely over a month—about to cross another realm.

Such terrifying speed—all piled with silver!

—

Another day, dusk falling.

The grand residence by T-Junction Bridge was fully renovated—even bedding replaced new from Feng outer village.

A new gate arch stood—gold characters on plaque: Li Residence.

Outside, roaring bonfire again—over a dozen Clear Gang disciples happily eating demon beast meat.

With only Blood Energy Barrier cultivation, they dared not overeat—so gathered wild greens, set up hotpot.

Long table laden full, mouths oily.

All said following this new Ninth Grade lord was immortal life.

“Where’s Master Xiang?”

“Heh… practicing again? This lord is truly diligent.”

“No wonder he’s so strong—if like you, long scrapped!”

Clear Gang laughed heartily—even Deputy Ban Zhiyong grinned, eating freely.

No wonder.

Days ago, hearts in throats, afraid to sleep—fearing beast raids.

But these ten-plus days, after the first night’s wolves—no demon beast appeared.

All said Master Xiang’s aura too mighty—beasts scared off.

Hearing this, Ban Zhiyong wiped oily mouth, subconsciously glancing at the woods across the bridge, muttering inwardly:

Strange indeed… these nights, not a single demon beast has come.