Liaovang City.

Cao Lie sat in a teahouse with his eyes closed, resting. On the stage, a young girl was playing a pipa, its sound crisp and pleasant — the melody was lovely, and her singing was lovely too — yet Cao Lie showed not the slightest reaction.

He was sitting here to wait for someone, not to enjoy himself.

Liaovang City housed one of the Shanhe Seal’s underground money houses. Wherever there was a money house, it was proof enough that the Shanhe Seal’s business in that locality was both large and varied.

Liaovang City was a rather peculiar place. Some places’ peculiarities might seem, to outsiders, entirely without reason or rhyme — as if they had simply become peculiar out of nowhere.

That was because ordinary people could never reach very high, nor very deep.

Liaovang City — among those of consequence in Yuzhou, the wealthy and the powerful — was called the Carefree Ground of Yuzhou.

No one could trace back to when exactly it had begun, but this place had become a paradise for underground forces, and a paradise for those with money.

Here, whatever you wanted to play at, you could most certainly find it.

On the surface, the most distinctive feature of Liaovang City was gambling. Here, whatever scheme you could dream up, you would never lack for someone willing to bet against you.

Cockfighting, dogfighting, bullfighting, even pig fighting — and of course, people fighting. These things, strange and varied as they might seem, were nothing out of the ordinary in Liaovang City.

This place was also a holy ground in the hearts of young men from Yuzhou’s great families, as well as the sons of wealthy merchants.

Here, as long as you could name your price, you could purchase purebred blood-sweating horses that even royalty from the Western Regions might not necessarily own.

Here, as long as your scheme was novel enough, you would very quickly acquire a following — people who would throw money away like dirt on whatever you dreamed up.

Here, gambling dens and pleasure houses were considered the cleanest businesses. Some said that beneath every inch of soil in Liaovang City flowed blood.

The elders of countless great families strictly forbade their young from coming to Liaovang City. The speed at which this place could corrupt a person, the speed at which it could destroy a family — ordinary folk who heard of it might not even believe it.

The underground’s dark industries were so wildly rampant here, yet Liaovang City had only a single underground money house — and that alone was enough to demonstrate the Cao family’s standing in Yuzhou.

Every coin that anyone wishing to play in Liaovang City needed passed through that money house.

If you won and needed to carry away a large sum of gold and silver, you could deposit it into the Cao family’s money house and leave unencumbered. Then, at any Cao family money house — whether in the open or in the shadows — wherever you went, as long as you had your deposit receipt, you could withdraw your silver.

If you lost, you could apply for a loan at the Cao family money house after their review, without needing any collateral whatsoever. The Cao family’s money flowed out like surging waves — but if you could not repay, it would not be only the borrower who suffered.

Xie Jingran’s standing within the Xie family was not particularly remarkable — one could only say that his position in the Xie family of Fengzhou was not low.

The Xie family was such an ancient clan, stretching back a thousand years, with branches likely spread across every city and region.

The true ancestral root of the Xie family was not in Fengzhou, but in Suzhou.

Still, Xie Jingran held a certain standing within the Shanhe Seal — not very high, but enough for the underground money house’s people to treat him with courtesy.

So Cao Lie reasoned that Xie Jingran would certainly flee to Liaovang City. Here, as long as you were willing to spend, you could buy anything — including the most beautiful women and the most formidable assassins.

But Cao Lie had also considered that Xie Jingran would not dare go rashly to the underground money house. He would seek protection from some other influential figure in Liaovang City, or come to buy men for his own protection.

Countless people who moved in the underground world had made their long-term home in Liaovang City. They waited for wealthy patrons to scatter untold riches upon them, then wagered their lives in return.

The teahouse’s business was good. No matter how wildly a person had been living, they always eventually wanted to find a slightly quieter place to rest.

This teahouse was enormous. If you did not wish to spend heavily, you could sit in the front hall and listen to music or to storytelling. If you were willing to spend heavily, in the small private courtyards at the back — whatever comfort you could conceive of, as long as the price was right, the teahouse’s proprietor would do their utmost to provide it.

Do not assume that in such a place the teahouse was the cleanest sort of business. As was just mentioned, relatively speaking, it was the gambling dens and pleasure houses that were.

The young waiter had been watching Cao Lie for a good while. He felt that something was off about this young man.

Among the guests who came to Jingtan Teahouse in Liaovang City, very few were genuinely there to listen to music or stories.

Even the people seated in the main hall all had some unusual purpose in coming.

Here, you could hire the most formidable bodyguard, or seek out the most formidable assassin. Give enough money, and you could even have the finest bodyguard and the finest assassin fight to the death right before your eyes, to see which was truly the stronger. But if you actually did that, the moment you stepped out of Jingtan’s doors, you might immediately be cut down yourself.

No bloodshed was permitted inside Jingtan Teahouse, no deaths — those were the rules.

The proprietor appeared to be a man in his forties. His name was Li Chunfeng — a spring breeze that put ten li of spring breezes to shame.

He had an air of cultivated elegance. Even without hearing him speak, one would judge him a man steeped in learning and letters.

The young waiter walked to Li Chunfeng’s side and lowered his voice: “Proprietor, that guest is not ordinary.”

Li Chunfeng had also noticed Cao Lie. This young man had not exchanged a single word with anyone since walking in, simply sitting alone with his eyes closed. More than half an hour had already passed.

“Bring him one portion of four dried and four fresh — say it’s a gift from me.”

Li Chunfeng felt the young man was out of the ordinary, and so wanted to test him.

Having given the instruction, the young waiter immediately prepared everything, picked up the tray, and walked over to Cao Lie’s side.

“You’re a new guest, sir — I can tell by your unfamiliar face,” the young waiter asked carefully.

Cao Lie did not open his eyes, merely nodding slightly.

The young waiter laid the eight dishes — four dried, four fresh — on the table one by one. “These are a gift from our proprietor, sir. We hope you’ll visit often in the future.”

Cao Lie still did not open his eyes, and did not even nod again.

The young waiter looked back at the proprietor; the proprietor gave him a slight shake of the head, signaling him to return.

Back at the counter, the young waiter said with some puzzlement, “The guests who come to our Jingtan all have purposes in coming. The proprietor sent me with four dried and four fresh — matters of the living and matters of the dead are all in those four dried and four fresh. If he doesn’t touch a single one, that’s going to be trouble.”

By the unwritten rules of Liaovang City, any guest who entered Jingtan Teahouse — if you ordered the four dried and four fresh — it signified that you wanted Jingtan to handle a matter for you.

Eight dishes placed on the table: eat only the four fresh without touching the four dried, and the matter to be handled concerned the living. The reverse signified a matter of the dead.

If both the four dried and four fresh were touched, it meant the matter to be handled was both major and difficult.

But Cao Lie sat there without touching a single one.

After a long while, the young waiter sighed. “He’s almost certainly someone from the authorities — completely ignorant of Liaovang City’s customs. Seventy or eighty percent chance he’s a spy.”

The proprietor instinctively nodded, though he did not rush to a conclusion.

These days were not as comfortable as before. In the past, Liaovang City had been a place in Yuzhou that no one managed — the authorities left it alone, the underground left it alone; it was a true free ground. But things were different now. Yuzhou belonged to Prince Ning, and many people were saying that once Prince Ning moved from Jizhou to Yuzhou, places like Liaovang City would certainly be destroyed.

“There have indeed been rumors going around that Prince Ning may be coming to Yuzhou. Perhaps these are Prince Ning’s people, come ahead to scout Liaovang City.”

The proprietor was somewhat troubled.

Li Chunfeng was only the proprietor — not the true owner of Jingtan Teahouse. And even the owner he would report to was not the genuine owner.

The young waiter said with some anxiety, “I’ve heard that Prince Ning has a Tingwei Army under his command — extremely formidable, and terrifying. The underground business in Jizhou was once so flourishing, yet seven or eight parts of it were destroyed by the Tingwei Army.”

Just at that moment, the proprietor’s expression shifted sharply.

Because he saw that young man — one by one — tip all the contents of the eight dishes, four dried and four fresh, into the rubbish bin beside him.

This gesture not only changed Li Chunfeng’s expression; every guest in the teahouse who witnessed it also changed expression.

This gesture signified that this young man wished to see Jingtan’s true owner — that he had an extraordinarily momentous matter to discuss with Jingtan.

Tipping out the four dried and four fresh meant: whether teahouse waiter or proprietor, your standing is insufficient — you cannot handle my business.

Very quickly, everyone in the teahouse’s main hall looked toward Cao Lie, and many had already begun to whisper.

Someone murmured, “How many years has it been — no one has done this.”

Another said, “It’s been at least thirty years since anyone overturned eight dishes.”

The person beside him said, in an even softer voice, “The last time someone overturned eight dishes, I wasn’t even born yet — and I’m already thirty-four this year. I heard my father say that the last person to come and overturn eight dishes was someone whom Jingtan’s owner respectfully escorted into the back courtyard. To this day, no one knows that person’s identity. But one month later, every single person in Jingtan was replaced — from the owner to the proprietor to the waiters, all new faces.”

The guests grew tense — all the more so the proprietor, Li Chunfeng.

He straightened his clothing, drew a deep breath, and walked briskly to Cao Lie’s side, bowing: “Sir, might I invite you to the back courtyard for a conversation?”

Cao Lie gave a slight nod. He seemed to have grown impatient from waiting, and so rose and followed Li Chunfeng’s lead toward the back courtyard.

The guests in the hall rose to follow, but were politely yet firmly stopped by Jingtan’s waiters — none were permitted to approach.

Jingtan’s back courtyard contained nineteen private residences in all. Eighteen were for receiving honored guests, and the largest was the dwelling of Jingtan’s owner.

The current owner of Jingtan was called Li Sanzhou, already in his fifties. In all of Liaovang City, there was no one he was compelled to see. Those he did not wish to see could kneel outside his door and beg — he would not stir.

Among Liaovang City’s underground forces, which had grown so wildly over the years, three men had held positions that could not be shaken in the past decade.

Swift Blade, Tangled Hemp, and Li Sanzhou.

Swift Blade was the owner of every gambling den in Liaovang City. Rumor had it that in his early years, he had cut his way single-handedly, with a single blade, from Liaovang City’s west gate to its east gate — none could stop him. To this day, no one dared casually speak his name. He was called Dao Chai.

Tangled Hemp was older still — said to already be eighty years of age. He had not appeared publicly in any setting for the past five years, yet half of the city’s notable figures were his disciples, and the other half would call him “Senior” upon meeting him.

This man had a fierce appearance, an ugly face, and a complexion covered in pockmarks. Some said his surname was also Ma — his name being Ma Ziwu.

Li Sanzhou was the owner of Jingtan’s gambling operations, and in Liaovang City there was also another saying: Swift Blade, Tangled Hemp — but none surpass Sanzhou.

Neither that swordsman who had cut through all of Liaovang City, nor that elder of towering seniority, dared provoke Li Sanzhou — even though, by the measure of how long each had been in Liaovang City, Li Sanzhou had arrived the latest.

Ten years ago, Jingtan Teahouse changed owners once again. “Owner” was the word used, but he was in truth a head proprietor above the proprietors — for no one knew who Jingtan’s true owner actually was.

When Li Sanzhou arrived in Liaovang City, rumor had it that someone wanted to humble him, to frighten him a little. The next day, one percent of Liaovang City’s population was gone.

Was one percent a lot?

At that time, Liaovang City’s permanent population had been over ninety thousand.

If it had not been because of overwhelming numbers — why would it be that in an age of chaos, with great bandits rising on all sides and rebel armies everywhere, no one dared lightly provoke Liaovang City?

Cao Lie was led to the back courtyard. Li Chunfeng politely asked him to wait outside the door, but Cao Lie paid no heed and simply stepped through the gate of the private residence that housed Li Sanzhou.

The person Cao Lie had been waiting for had not come, so he thought to make some trouble.

No one dared provoke Li Sanzhou — then let it begin with Li Sanzhou.

Li Sanzhou was in the courtyard, seated in a rattan chair and carving a wooden sword with a small knife — it looked as though he was merely passing the time.

“Hm?”

Seeing a stranger enter, Li Sanzhou’s expression chilled slightly.

He looked at Li Chunfeng: “Anyone who enters without my permission — may be killed.”

Li Chunfeng bowed: “Yes.”

He looked toward Cao Lie — but saw Cao Lie walking of his own accord to stand before Li Sanzhou, reaching into his chest and producing a token, which he tossed down in front of him.

Cao Lie wanted to see what the relationship was between Jingtan and the Shanhe Seal. By rights, there ought to be a connection.

He had never been fond of places like this and had never come before, so he did not know clearly how many of Liaovang City’s underground forces had ties to the Shanhe Seal.

Li Sanzhou glanced dismissively at the token. Over the years, he had seen far too many self-important young men — some pampered scion of a family or another, thinking themselves free to run roughshod over Yuzhou. Over the years, the corpses of such young men he had disposed of, stacked up, could have dammed the moat outside Liaovang City’s walls.

So he only glanced.

Then abruptly stood up, bowing low: “Are you the young master?”

Cao Lie sighed inwardly. As he had expected.

He looked at Li Sanzhou: “The true owner of Jingtan — who is it? Is it one of the Four Haves?”

Li Sanzhou raised his head to look at Cao Lie for a moment, then bowed again: “In reply to the young master — it is you.”

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