The second-class yard was deathly quiet.

The scene before them defied all expectations.

Xiangzi, the lead puller of the second-class yard?

Just days ago, this kid was bunking with them in the common quarters.

When Xiangzi moved to the east building a month ago, they’d waited for his downfall.

Yet he’d not only held his ground but climbed to this position.

That was one thing—plenty in the yard had a shot at breaking the Vitality Barrier, so he wasn’t untouchable.

But Fourth Master’s words? They were jaw-dropping.

Xiangzi’s only eighteen, a greenhorn, and he’s lead puller?

Handpicked by Fourth Master himself?

Many pullers felt a surreal haze settle over them.

In just days, this big lug’s climbed above us?

Those who’d once mocked Xiangzi felt a chill down their spines, already scheming how to curry favor.

The happiest was Wen San.

Clapping loudly, his grin stretched ear to ear. Hey, Xiangzi’s risen to lead puller!

And I, Wen San, am his Third Brother!

But when his gaze caught Jin Fugui’s, he shivered—Gods, that look could cut like a knife!

Morning light spilled over.

Thus began Xiangzi’s first mine run.

No longer just “Xiangzi.”

Even the veteran pullers, however grudgingly, had to force a smile and call him “Master Xiang.”

That was the rule!

From Qingfeng Street to the city’s main avenue, then south for half an hour to Yongchang Gate.

Dozens of pullers dragged flatbed carts in a long, imposing line.

These two-wheeled carts, called “row carts,” were reinforced by the yard to haul hundreds of pounds.

At the head of the line, a large triangular black flag flew, embroidered with gold trim and the words “Harmony.”

Seeing the flag, patrolling officers didn’t interfere, and pedestrians steered clear.

The flag was an imperial grant from the Great Shun Dynasty days—only six yards in Forty-Nine City could use it.

In these chaotic times, with the dynasty reduced to a hollow name, warlords didn’t bother with such things.

Liu Hu led on a tall horse, while Liu Tang and a few guards trailed the convoy.

Normally, east building guards joined the runs, but Liu Tang rarely came himself, especially with Liu Hu present.

Today was odd—two of the yard’s four titans were here.

For some reason, the usually cordial adopted brothers barely spoke this morning.

The tense air infected the pullers, who hauled their carts in silence, lacking their usual banter.

Fourth Master’s morning speech had delayed them, and by the time they reached the city gate, it was past the morning watch.

The gate bustled with traffic.

A long-robed officer approached, holding a ledger.

Xiangzi hurried forward, offering a pack of Daqianmen cigarettes. “Officer, you work hard.”

The officer, seeing a young stranger, paused.

Xiangzi handed over a pack of matches. “Call me Xiangzi, officer. I’m Harmony Rickshaw Yard’s lead puller.”

Taking the cigarettes and matches, the officer’s smile warmed. “Lead puller at your age? Impressive.”

He knew the weight of a lead puller’s role, outranking his own meager gatekeeping post in pay.

“No, no, I still need your guidance, Officer Liu,” Xiangzi said, lighting a cigarette for him with a grin. “Uncle Jie mentioned yesterday that you’re the most principled man from Wanping County, the best of us!”

As they say, “Flattery never fails.”

The words hit the mark, and the officer’s smile grew. But he raised a brow. “You know Jie too? You’re from Wanping?”

Xiangzi nodded with a smile.

Harmony had smoothed these connections over years, and being from the same hometown made things easier.

With a wave, the officer let the convoy pass unchecked.

“Thanks for your kindness, Officer Liu. Let’s grab a meal sometime.”

“Easy, easy.”

As they spoke, the convoy rolled through.

Many pullers, seeing Xiangzi chat so smoothly with the officer, muttered to themselves. This kid, who barely spoke before, suddenly so slick?

Becoming lead puller sharpened his tongue too?

Jin Fugui’s face darkened further.

These tasks used to be his.

This morning, leaving the yard, he’d been simmering, waiting for Xiangzi to slip up.

A green kid, even with Fourth Master’s trust, can he handle the mine route?

This road’s not safe.

So Jin Fugui stayed silent, watching coldly.

Yet Xiangzi reached the gate without a hitch?

“Hey, Brother Jin, this kid’s putting on a show,” a skinny puller muttered.

Jin Fugui said nothing, his grip on the cart handles so tight his veins bulged.

When Xiangzi caught up, he ran into Liu Tang.

Mounted on a large black horse, dressed in crisp white short robes, Liu Tang smiled. “Not bad, Xiangzi.”

He tossed out a sheathed short knife. “We’re leaving the city—stay sharp.”

Xiangzi tucked the knife into his coat, smiling. “Thanks for the heads-up, Master Tang.”

Liu Tang grinned, said nothing more, and rode off.

Xiangzi meant it sincerely.

Since Liu Tang learned from Fourth Master that Xiangzi would be lead puller, he’d had Uncle Jie walk him through the process—where to offer cigarettes, where to smile—to keep him from faltering.

The intent was clear: Liu Tang saw Xiangzi as one of his own.

From this unusual move, Xiangzi gleaned some of Fourth Master’s intentions.

The yard’s four adopted sons had clear roles.

The second-class yard was Liu Hu’s domain; Liu Tang never interfered, only sending guards to watch.

But today felt different.

Liu Tang’s hand was reaching into the second-class yard.

Whether this was Fourth Master’s order, Xiangzi didn’t know.

But he knew that by taking the lead puller role, he’d been drawn into the power struggles of Harmony Rickshaw Yard.