He Xiaochuan was grabbed and placed down in front of a horse’s hooves. He shouted and struggled without stop, but against Gang Gang’s strength it was utterly useless.

“But you said you’d trample him first — not me!”

In a panic, He Xiaochuan pointed at Zhao Ke and yelled, “It’s him!”

Gang Gang said, “Right, we said him — but who told you to wet yourself? First to wet himself dies first.”

He Xiaochuan: “Please spare my life, please don’t kill me — I’ll serve you however you need, do anything you ask!”

Gang Gang said, “Do I look like I need a cow? Do I look like I need a horse?”

He Xiaochuan knelt there, knocking his head to the ground over and over. “Anything at all — whatever you need, I’ll do it.”

Chen Dawei said, “His attitude is at least acceptable. When all’s said and done, we’re from the same sect — sending him off just like this does seem a bit harsh…”

Gang Gang produced a token and held it up. “Recognize this?”

He Xiaochuan glanced at it, then his eyes lit up. “That’s the Gate Master’s token! I’ve only ever heard of it — never seen it in person.”

Gang Gang said, “I can serve Prince Ning — so can you, if you’re willing. But you had to go and commit a crime. And crime means death.”

“We can render merit to atone! We can make amends!”

He Xiaochuan pleaded, “Whatever Prince Ning requires of us — just give the order.”

Gang Gang said, “That depends on whether you’re sincere or not.”

The group of them kowtowed and cried out, “Sincere, sincere — completely sincere!”

Chen Dawei said, “Then let me ask you something first — let’s see what your attitude is like.”

He sat down and pointed at He Xiaochuan. “You, come here.”

He Xiaochuan crawled on his knees before Chen Dawei. “Sir, ask whatever you wish — as long as I know it, I’ll hold nothing back.”

Chen Dawei asked, “In this Guàn County — is there an underground money house?”

He Xiaochuan’s head snapped up. His eyes showed a flash of unmistakable fear.

“No!”

He Xiaochuan shook his head immediately. “We’re a small place here. Where would something like that come from?”

Chen Dawei let out a soft sigh, grabbed He Xiaochuan by the collar, and hurled him away.

The man landed in front of the horse formation. Fang Xidao urged his horse forward, the warhorse reared up on its hind legs, and when its two front hooves came down, they slammed hard onto He Xiaochuan’s legs.

With one blow, the bones cracked clean through.

He Xiaochuan let out an agonized wail.

Chen Dawei looked at Zhao Ke. “And you — are you willing to talk?”

Zhao Ke had been trembling nonstop, his face white as paper. Watching He Xiaochuan howl beside him, he seemed to have been frightened senseless.

“I’m asking you a question. Think carefully before you answer.”

Chen Dawei said, “If we hadn’t already received word, do you think we’d be asking questions like this out of thin air? Or do you really think three small-time thieves like you are worth Prince Ning deploying an army for?”

This kind of jianghu rhetoric — a mix of truth, implication, and pressure — was of course no challenge at all for Chen Dawei and his sort.

“I’ll talk. I know something.”

Zhao Ke replied immediately. “There really is an underground money house in Guàn County. I’ve only heard rumors — I don’t know where it is, and I don’t know who runs it.”

Chen Dawei asked further, “There’s a merchant called Lü Wuman — have you heard that name?”

Zhao Ke thought about it and shook his head. “Haven’t heard that name around Guàn County. But I do seem to have heard… the owner of the underground money house has the surname Lü.”

Chen Dawei turned to look at Gang Gang. Gang Gang stepped forward immediately and grabbed Zhao Ke by the collar. “You small-time thieves — you don’t know where the underground money house is, don’t know who runs it, and yet somehow you know the owner’s surname?”

“It was all from Xu Lei!”

Zhao Ke cried out.

Chen Dawei asked, “And who is Xu Lei?”

About half an hour later, they had pieced together most of the story.

Xu Lei had once been a street ruffian in Guàn County — no great skill to speak of, but he’d practiced martial arts since childhood and could hold his own in a fight.

Xu Lei and Zhao Ke had grown up together from boyhood, and since they were both cut from the same lowlife cloth, they got along well. Xu Lei’s family had originally been comfortable — they ran a business and lived in relative prosperity, so he’d never lacked for hangers-on. But somehow, at some point, the family’s fortunes collapsed.

Rumor had it that his father had run up enormous debts and eventually drowned himself.

Xu Lei’s circumstances immediately became straitened. He could no longer live as freely as before, and the fair-weather friends who’d gathered around food and drink all drifted away. Zhao Ke had known him since childhood, and so when Xu Lei was at his most destitute, Zhao Ke had helped him through it. Xu Lei said that once he made something of himself, he’d repay Zhao Ke without fail.

A few more months passed, and then Xu Lei disappeared — gone for over a year.

When Xu Lei came back, it was as if he’d become a different person. He gave Zhao Ke a bag of silver, said it was repayment.

“He’d changed. He’d become silent, close-mouthed — even his eyes were different from before.”

Zhao Ke said, “That face was the one I knew, but those eyes frightened me. He’d look at me once, and I’d feel like at any moment he might kill me…”

Chen Dawei asked, “If he was so close-mouthed, how did you come to know about the underground money house?”

Zhao Ke said, “He asked me if I’d be willing to go back with him and see what was left of his family’s old home. I went along.”

“When we got there, he knelt in the courtyard and wept bitterly. Afterward, we drank a lot together and he talked while drunk.”

“He said he now worked for an underground money house, that the owner’s surname was Lü, and that the man killed without batting an eye.”

“I didn’t wait for him to sober up — I just ran. He came looking for me again later, asking me whether he’d said anything while he was drunk.”

“I played dumb and said: how would I know? You were drunk and I’d gone off to the brothel to enjoy myself. I actually did go that day — I suppose he must have checked into it, and maybe with our old friendship in mind, he didn’t make a move.”

Zhao Ke swallowed. “But I’m certain — he wanted to kill me. At the very least there was a moment when he was thinking about it.”

Chen Dawei asked, “Where can Xu Lei be found?”

Zhao Ke said, “He comes back five or six days each month and keeps a shop in the county seat. But I suspect the shop is just a cover. He only came by a few days ago — he won’t be back for a while yet.”

Gang Gang lowered his voice to Chen Dawei. “We can’t wait that long.”

Fang Xidao suddenly asked: “Is there a gambling den in Guàn County? You know what kind I mean.”

Zhao Ke immediately nodded. “Yes! And I know where it is.”

The next day.

On the western side of Guàn County sat a chicken farm — or so it appeared. But beneath the chicken farm’s cellar lay Guàn County’s largest underground gambling den.

Since poultry farms have a powerful smell, they are typically built on the outskirts of town, which meant no one would think to question it.

An ordinary poultry farm, on the surface, appears to do little trade — because the trade goes out rather than coming in. Shops, restaurants, and taverns in the city all have the farm deliver directly to their door.

If you ever see a poultry farm on the outskirts of town bustling with visitors coming and going all day long — don’t even bother asking. Something is definitely going on.

And it isn’t only chicken farms — the same logic applies to duck farms, goose farms, pig farms…

Zhao Ke and Wang Xian brought Fang Xidao and Chen Dawei along. Zhao Ke was a regular at the gambling den, and without a familiar face to vouch for them, there was no easy way for outsiders to get in.

What followed was Fang Xidao displaying a degree of jianghu cunning that even Chen Dawei found impressive.

Playing the role of a complete novice, Fang Xidao won several hundred taels in a row.

There’s no need to be suspicious — if you are brought to a gambling den for the first time by a friend or acquaintance, no matter how badly you play, you will win on your first visit.

Fang Xidao was clearly hooked. Even when Chen Dawei urged him to leave, he refused to budge, and only reluctantly departed after much coaxing.

When they reached the exchange counter, they successfully cashed out the silver. The den’s staff even congratulated them warmly.

On the surface, it all seemed perfect.

But that very night, Zhao Ke and Wang Xian were cornered on a side street. A group of men surrounded them, bundled them into a carriage, and hauled them back to the outskirts — back to the chicken farm.

The farm’s owner went by the name Old Eight. He’d gotten the nickname because of a scar on his face — when he was nobody, people called him Scarface. Once he made something of himself, it became Old Eight, since no one dared mention the scar anymore.

Old Eight looked at Zhao Ke and said, “Do you know the rules?”

Zhao Ke immediately nodded. “Old Eight, rest easy — I know all the rules. Tomorrow I’ll bring that novice back again, and I’ll make sure he gets in deep.”

Old Eight smiled, reached out, and patted Zhao Ke on the cheek. “Since you know the rules, I won’t say more. That novice walked out of here today with over five hundred taels — if he’s not back tomorrow, I’ll just have to take your two heads in lieu of payment.”

This was just his standard approach. In fact, he had people watching the inn where Fang Xidao and Chen Dawei were staying as well.

How could they possibly let outsiders walk away after winning silver here? Those who fantasized about winning once and never going back — and who truly believed they could pull it off — were hopelessly naive.

Once a person was ensnared in something like this, they would not be released until the family was ruined.

First thing the next morning, Zhao Ke and Wang Xian came running to find them and relayed everything from the night before.

These methods were familiar to both Fang Xidao and Chen Dawei.

That afternoon, they went back to the gambling den again. Sure enough, without fail, everything they played came up winning — within half an hour they had won over a thousand taels.

But then came the inevitable reversal. Whatever they played, they lost. Every shred of that earlier good luck had vanished, replaced by the worst fortune imaginable.

Through it all, Fang Xidao gave a performance of the first-time gambler utterly in its grip — absolutely convincing, down to the last detail.

The previous night Chen Dawei had asked him: how do you know all these tricks, and how can you act so convincingly?

Fang Xidao’s answer was: You wouldn’t know this, but Changmei’s lessons — I earned top marks every single time.

By Fang Xidao’s account, these small-time tricks barely even registered among what Changmei had taught. The techniques that surpassed this were far more numerous.

In that session, Fang Xidao not only lost back everything he had won that day and the day before, but went a further three to four hundred taels into the hole on top of that.

Then, eyes red, Fang Xidao started grabbing at Chen Dawei and demanding he produce more money.

Now it was Chen Dawei’s turn to perform. With a woeful expression, he said, “Young Master — what we’ve lost is the capital the Master gave us for buying goods. What’s left is all earmarked for stock — we can’t touch it.”

“No!”

Fang Xidao said, “Trust me, I can win it all back — just give me one good hand and I’ll clean this whole place out!”

Chen Dawei kept pleading and weeping, but Fang Xidao would not relent, forcing Chen Dawei to go back and retrieve funds.

Shortly after, he returned with approximately two thousand taels.

Without surprise, those two thousand taels vanished quickly at Fang Xidao’s hands. It was worse than throwing stones into a river — at least that makes a splash. These two thousand taels went in and left no ripple at all.

At this moment, Old Eight appeared.

Old Eight smiled broadly. “Your luck’s been a bit rough, I’d say — but I can see you’re about due for a turn. Not two days ago, a new friend of mine came in and lost over ten thousand taels at the start, but in the last few hands things turned around and he walked out with thirty or forty thousand.”

Fang Xidao sighed, “I’m out of money.”

Old Eight said, “In a gambling den, how can a man say he has no money? Everyone sitting here — their money could be yours, if you can take it.”

He beckoned, and an attendant came forward carrying a tray of silver.

With a smile, Old Eight asked, “You can take this silver to play with first. If you win, it’s yours. If you lose, it’s on me.”

Fang Xidao looked at the silver — and knew he was on the right track.

Because those silver ingots bore no official mint marks.

—