The middle-aged man who’d arrived with a club had several very obvious scratch marks on his face—unmistakably the work of someone who was trained in this technique.

Don’t underestimate a woman’s clawing attack—because it isn’t a single move. It’s a combination. A slap across the face, followed immediately by a raking with the fingernails, and not necessarily just once—could be twice, three times, four times, five times, infinite combo. It’s almost always an indoor combo, not an outdoor one, because between husband and wife, if matters are going well outdoors, there usually wouldn’t be any unpleasantness to begin with.

This man’s face still had fresh blood on it, and the hand gripping the club was trembling faintly. In this state of mind—simultaneously humiliated and enraged—people tend to act on impulse.

Like right now, when he very much wanted to beat the Changmei Daoist to death, or at least most of the way there.

And Li Diudiu’s goal was to break apart that extreme emotional state before anything actually happened—otherwise things could truly go wrong.

“He’s right here!”

Li Diudiu waved the man over. “Come quickly—I’ve already got this old swindler under control.”

This threw the middle-aged man into confusion. He looked at Li Diudiu, then looked at Changmei, and his sharp instincts told him something about this situation wasn’t right. Could it be that the boy and the old Daoist were in on it together?

Li Diudiu said, “He just swindled me out of quite a bit of money, and he still won’t pay me back—he’s trying to fob me off with a bag of peach shortbread.”

The man slowed his steps—because his sharp wife had been wrapped around this old swindler’s finger, and when she came home her very first act had been to give him a white bone claw, and then she’d grabbed him by the hair and demanded to know where he’d hidden the little tramp.

They were both in the same trade. He had a keener eye for people than most. Something about the boy standing beside that old Daoist simply didn’t feel like an ordinary child.

So he called out warily, “Old swindler! Hand over the money you cheated my wife out of, or I’ll break your legs!”

Li Diudiu said, “Then hit him! Go ahead and hit him—take your money back afterward. Why are you negotiating with him? He dared to cheat you—do you really think he’s going to suddenly develop a conscience?”

The man grew even more wary. He narrowed his eyes at Li Diudiu. “Don’t think I can’t see that you two are in on this together. You’re trying to set me up in some scheme. I’ve been walking the rivers and lakes for this many years—you think you can trick me that easily?!”

Li Diudiu sighed. “With a mind like yours, no wonder you get swindled.”

He held out his hand. “In that case, give me the club and I’ll do the hitting.”

The man looked back at the companions he’d brought with him. One of them said, “Whether they’re working together or not—so what? It’s just an old swindler and a small swindler. What can they do?”

Another said, “Exactly. There’s five or six of us—are we afraid of one old man and one kid?”

Emboldened by this, the man pointed his club at Changmei and declared, “Hand over the money now—not just what you cheated my wife out of, but everything you’ve cheated from everyone else. All of it!”

He was still pointing when Li Diudiu suddenly moved—one quick motion and the club was in his hand, too fast for the man to even react.

Li Diudiu had trained under his teacher for many years and had been practicing martial arts himself for years as well; the skill in his hands was far beyond ordinary. In the instant he seized the club, a small dagger slipped from his sleeve—uncommonly sharp. While the onlookers couldn’t see clearly what was happening, he turned his body to block the man’s view and ran the blade in a circle around the club. Using the pivot of his turn to shield the motion—and with movements far too quick for the nearby spectators to catch—the club had been cut nearly all the way through, only the very center still barely connected.

After turning back around, Li Diudiu called out, “Dealing with a swindler like this—if you won’t hit him, I will!”

And he brought the club down hard on Changmei’s head—looking every bit like a powerful, devastating blow.

Changmei appeared unable to dodge in time. But in truth he had a short wooden rod tucked up his sleeve for self-defense—at the moment Li Diudiu’s strike came down, his hand retreated into his sleeve and pushed the rod up through his collar so it extended above his neck. Li Diudiu’s blow landed on that hidden rod.

With a resounding crack, the club snapped clean in two.

Changmei rolled his eyes back in his head, raised one hand and pointed at Li Diudiu, then tipped backward and went down, lying on the ground twitching.

The middle-aged man was thoroughly frightened, his face going white in an instant.

“You’re the one who hit him—you did it, it’s nothing to do with me!”

He instinctively stepped back several paces. Li Diudiu was displeased by this and said seriously, “I did the hitting, yes—but it was your club. Why did you hand your club to me?”

“Who handed it to you?! You grabbed it!”

Li Diudiu said, “Nonsense! I’m a small child with no strength to speak of—how could I grab a club out of the hands of a robust man who could slaughter pigs and bind oxen? If you hadn’t handed it to me, how would it have gotten into my hands?”

The man kept backing away while saying, “Don’t try to extort me—I can see what you two are up to. You’re working together.”

He retreated; Li Diudiu advanced. Walking forward, he said, “Someone’s been hit now—and you’re a grown man. Don’t you have even a little backbone? I’m telling you, if the authorities get involved, you’ll share half the blame. And don’t think I don’t know who you are—I know your name, and I know where you set up your stall.”

Li Diudiu knew nothing of the sort.

But the moment the man heard Li Diudiu say he knew who he was and where he worked, his expression darkened even further. He shouted furiously, “You think you can threaten me, you little brat?! You think I won’t deal with you right here?!”

Li Diudiu held out the broken club. “Come on, then—here’s the club back.”

The man retreated a few more steps, glanced at the Daoist lying on the ground—the man was foaming at the mouth now—and thought to himself that if he stuck around things would only get worse. So he turned and ran.

Once he ran, what reason did the others he’d brought have to stay? They turned and ran too.

Li Diudiu called after them, “Running? Unless you’re planning to leave Jizhou City for good, I’ll drag that old swindler’s corpse to your stall and make a scene!”

The man didn’t even dare look back—he bolted.

Li Diudiu turned back, took one look at the foam-spitting Changmei, then looked at the crowd of onlookers, and announced loudly, “When the authorities come presently, would those of you here kindly bear witness that I struck him by accident? I’m not the primary culprit. And would someone be so kind as to help me carry this man to a doctor? If he doesn’t make it to the doctor in time, you’d be doing me a great favor helping me find a place to bury him.”

At those words, the crowd scattered completely.

Li Diudiu watched them all run off, then poked Changmei in the side with the broken club. Changmei immediately let out a very pained groan. Li Diudiu had no choice but to grab Changmei by both ankles and start dragging him toward the inn. The spectators who’d lingered and looked back saw that the boy was absolutely ruthless—they had even less reason to stick around.

This gave the innkeeper quite a fright. He moved to close the door and not let them in. Changmei sat up, looked around, and then walked into the inn on his own power, leaving the innkeeper thoroughly bewildered.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” said Changmei, producing a tael of silver and handing it to the innkeeper. “Just a little performance. No need to worry.”

The innkeeper looked at him, then at the silver, and after a moment’s hesitation accepted it. “You’re not to do this again—or I won’t let you set up your stall at my door anymore.”

Changmei smiled. “Don’t worry. That man got a real fright—he won’t dare come out to work for three to five days. Tomorrow I’ll go out with a bandage wrapped around my head, and carry on as before.”

The innkeeper sighed, and in light of the silver, decided not to make any more of it.

The performance Li Diudiu had put on was meant to keep the middle-aged man away for the time being. With the man uncertain about how badly the Daoist was injured, and on top of that believing someone knew his name and where he worked, he naturally wouldn’t dare take the risk—he would likely keep his head down at home for the next few days.

“I should be going.”

Li Diudiu smiled at his teacher. “Xiahou Zuo arranged for us to meet at Shenghetai Tavern, which isn’t far from here. Teacher, would you like to come along?”

Changmei shook his head. “I can’t go—it wouldn’t be proper. Xiahou Zuo is introducing his friends to you, and if I’m there, it’ll be awkward. You won’t be able to talk freely with others there. Him introducing friends to you is one thing; my being there to listen is another thing entirely. Forcing your way into that kind of gathering—it irritates people.”

His understanding ran deep. Many people didn’t see it as clearly, because for the price of a meal and a few cups of wine there were plenty who would push themselves into gatherings uninvited, pleased with themselves for having gotten a free meal—not realizing that when the day came they actually needed a friend, they’d find they had none, because of exactly this kind of small advantage they’d taken one too many times.

Li Diudiu made a sound of acknowledgment. “Then I’ll go by myself. Teacher, don’t set up the stall today.”

Changmei pointed to his own head and said, “I know—I’d like to set up the stall, but I can’t. I was beaten senseless, after all.”

Li Diudiu said, “Don’t even think about extorting me for this…”

Changmei took out the hundred-tael banknote and handed it to Li Diudiu. “Take this with you. People are being kind—if it comes time for you to pay for the meal, pay for it. Don’t be stingy. Be generous.”

Li Diudiu shook his head. “No need—I have silver on me.”

He had earned a fair bit these past days.

After leaving the inn, Li Diudiu strolled his way to Shenghetai Tavern. He’d arrived early, so he found a shady spot by the entrance to sit and wait. His teacher always said: if someone invites you, you mustn’t be late. If you’re the one inviting, you especially mustn’t be late. That was proper conduct.

He waited well over half an hour before Xiahou Zuo finally arrived with a group of people. When still some distance away, Xiahou Zuo spotted Li Diudiu squatting by the roadside writing something with a stick, and immediately jogged over, offering Li Diudiu an apologetic smile.

“You came early.”

“Not early at all—I just got here.”

Xiahou Zuo looked at the densely packed lines of practice characters on the ground, then knocked Li Diudiu on the skull. “Since when do you put on airs with me?”

He pulled Li Diudiu along and, walking back toward the group, said, “You all remember—this is my brother, Li Chi.”

The assembled group raised their fists in salute simultaneously. Not one of them treated Li Diudiu as a child. In unison they said, “Brother Li Chi!”

In that moment, Li Diudiu felt for the first time what it truly meant to have the spirit of the rivers and lakes.

Those street thugs and petty criminals weren’t living that spirit. It was on these few people that you could see its shadow.

“Come on, let’s go inside.”

Xiahou Zuo smiled. “The food and wine here are excellent. My little brother eats a lot—try not to be frightened when you see it.”

Li Diudiu scratched his hair. “It’s really not that much…”

Xiahou Zuo gave him a kick in the backside. “Speak properly!”

Li Diudiu laughed. “Actually it’s not a big appetite—just about three pillars’ worth.”

The group exchanged looks of confusion. One man asked, “What are three pillars?”

Xiahou Zuo knocked Li Diudiu on the skull again. “Want to die?”