As night fell over Fuzhou, one end of Silver Bridge Ward grew lively while the other gradually dimmed into darkness.
Silver Bridge Ward’s market grounds weren’t small; waterways bordered both sides, connecting further to a water gate on the eastern side — this had originally been one of the main fish markets within Fuzhou city. A couple of years earlier, when the court had first developed this area, seeing how well Golden Bridge Ward’s businesses were doing, they had carved off a section of Silver Bridge Ward to serve as a supporting night market, then marked off a stretch of cheaper land on the far side of the river to compensate for the displaced fish market.
But over time, things worked out unevenly — the night market side flourished, while the newly designated half-fish-market across the river never quite took off. The fish sellers remained clustered in the back half of Silver Bridge Ward instead, cutting back on retail and focusing mainly on wholesale trade. Afterward, land prices in Silver Bridge Ward doubled; though the back-half fish market grew even more crowded and chaotic, the landlords earned more, and the fish sellers benefited too from more focused business. In the end, aside from a few retail fish vendors who found other spots to set up, everyone came out reasonably satisfied.
The wholesale fish market didn’t see much nighttime business. Once the sun went down, only a scattering of shabby, dim-yellow lanterns lit the cluster of chaotic, fishy-smelling shops, and looking toward the glow of the night market not far off felt almost like gazing into an entirely different world.
To keep the odor contained, the stretch nearer the night market housed shops dealing in wholesale dried fish and seafood, along with a few low-end eateries catering to the fish market workers. By nighttime, most of these shops had already shut their doors.
The ward-and-market system had reached its peak under the Tang Dynasty; by the years of the Wu Dynasty, since curfews were now exceedingly rare, streets still bearing the name “ward” were no longer built with the same oppressive density as before. After Silver Bridge Ward had been split into two sections, a bridge now connected the middle portion.
Around the hour of Xu, Pu Xingui, together with Qian Dingzhong, crossed over via a side bridge to reach this area. The two men surveyed their surroundings for a moment before walking toward a dimly lit fish-goods shop. Sitting at the shop’s entrance was a middle-aged man, blind in one eye, his face carrying a hint of menace.
“Greetings, Fish King. How have you been lately?”
The man was the local kingpin of the fish market. Back when Silver Bridge Ward had been nothing but fish stalls, he’d commanded a large number of workers and could rightly be called a local strongman. Later, once the court began developing Silver Bridge Ward, his crude, heavy-handed methods no longer suited the needs of the outward-facing night market. After a few rounds of friction, he’d been given two thorough beatings by the authorities, and had finally, resigned to his rotten luck, ceded control of the front section of Silver Bridge Ward.
This had left behind considerable bitterness.
Seeing Pu and Qian arrive now, the man glanced at the two of them, his expression softening somewhat.
“What’s caused such a big stir?”
Pu Xingui thought, hell if I know either, but said aloud, “Isn’t this just settling a score for you, old brother Fish King?”
Within the city, Chief Constable Song Xiaoming’s death had occurred barely an hour ago, and parts of the city had already descended into chaos. Given the Fish King’s standing in the underworld, he would certainly have already heard how things had unfolded. Having once been beaten by the authorities, with men like Song Xiaoming among those who’d handled the matter, he could rightfully feel his spirits lifted now that the court had suffered such a major blow.
His face showed little expression, though. “Things are about to get serious.”
“That’s to be expected.”
“…Has young master Pu come with some instructions?”
“Wouldn’t dare put it that way — just happens I have some business, and wanted to borrow the Fish King’s watchful eyes for a look around.”
“That building across the way — young master Pu is welcome to use it as he pleases…”
As he spoke, the man handed over a key.
This Fish King, though once the local strongman, had seen his influence take a hit and no longer held quite the same firm grip over the fish market as before. Still, several wooden buildings in the middle stretch of the market remained under his control. A few of these, sitting on higher ground and conveniently close to the bridge and the waterways — combined with the market’s somewhat chaotic layout — had long served as ideal spots for underworld types to evade pursuit or keep watch over their surroundings. These days, ordinary greenwood men in the city didn’t dare openly defy the authorities, but for rebels like Pu Xingui, this counted as prime real estate.
He took the key and was about to cross the street when, at the far end of his view, three figures appeared in the dim lamplight. The Fish King, having handed over the key, was just turning to head back into his shop when Pu Xingui and the three figures across the way locked eyes, and both parties froze on the spot.
Coming around the corner from the stone bridge on the side, evidently also headed for the Fish King, was one figure in particular — Blackskin herself.
Something’s off…
Across the way, she had already raised a hand, smiling. “Well, if it isn’t Elder Brother… What brings you… here as well…” Her eyes carried clear wariness and caution.
The coincidence was too perfect. Pu Xingui’s first instinct was suspicion as well, but seeing the look in her eyes, he found himself, for some inexplicable reason, feeling rather smug instead. After a moment’s hesitation, he smiled back. “Guess.”
“I’d guess your dead mother’s—”
“…”
The two exchanged a round of pleasantries. Chen Shuangran went over to the Fish King and spoke to him in a low voice: “That matter I mentioned before…”
“Already arranged…”
“Should be soon…”
She then walked back toward Pu Xingui, apparently wanting to borrow the Fish King’s territory to keep watch as well. Pu Xingui and Qian Dingzhong exchanged a glance. With the night stirring restlessly and distant lights flickering, while nearby only the occasional voice of a night-shift fish market worker could be heard, Pu Xingui briefly wondered whether Blackskin might be here to eliminate him in some underhanded double-cross. But after thinking it over, he decided the odds of that were slim. He unlocked the shop door, and the five of them walked into the dark, cluttered interior.
“That Ni Po of yours just did something pretty big — think he’ll get away clean?”
“It’s already been… an hour. He’s off at a brothel taking a bath, had a round of wine with the girls already. Elder Brother worries too much.”
“A man doing serious work ought to think things through more carefully.”
“A real man… shouldn’t fuss like an old woman. On the boat, that kind of attitude gets you beaten.”
Chen Shuangran smiled and reached out, letting her hand brush lightly along the side of Pu Xingui’s arm, her fingers grazing across it as if by accident. Pu Xingui glanced sideways at her. “My little sister here doesn’t fall short of any man.”
At this moment, Pu Xingui had no intention of trading verbal jabs with her. As the one currently holding the initiative in Fuzhou, Chen Shuangran had backing that had caught everyone off guard, and her actions so far had indeed proven remarkably shrewd. For someone like that to carry herself with some arrogance was hardly worth arguing over in the underworld. But he and Cao Jinlong had already settled on their own strategy:
She was using a handful of top fighters as her core, treating the many greenwood heroes who had flocked to Fuzhou as mere smokescreens — in the end, everyone might well become expendable pawns in her scheme. Before that happened, he intended to leverage the reputation of the Pu family and Alliance Leader Cao to win over these underworld figures and secure himself an alternative path forward. That way, even if Chen Shuangran pulled off something extraordinary, she would already have alienated every faction across the martial world in doing so — and anyone who survived this upheaval would naturally gravitate toward his side instead. This was precisely the kind of overt scheme where one simply lets the current carry things along, borrowing another’s flowers to offer as one’s own gift — something that ruthless, reckless little Blackskin, who cared nothing for who lived or died, would never understand.
Not to mention, her moves these past two days — seemingly matching speed with speed — had held their own reasonably well against the young Emperor’s efforts to divide and conquer. And yet she’d made her move without consulting any of the city’s elder statesmen beforehand at all. Pu Xingui already knew several people had expressed their displeasure with her just yesterday. Sure enough, so long as a rival grew arrogant and blind to everything but their own plans, he stood to gain something even by doing nothing at all.
The two groups climbed the stairs to the second floor of the building. Once Pu Xingui finished with the pleasantries, he decided there was no more point in acting guarded. It was then that he noticed Chen Shuangran picking up a spyglass from the room, speaking as she did:
“…A few days back, Han Yuan, over in Jian’ou, made the acquaintance of two young heroes with fairly decent skills. They said they wanted to come try their luck in Fuzhou, so a friendly bond was formed. I heard recently they’ve been spending their time around the night market here in Silver Bridge Ward, so… since I happened to be passing through today, thought I’d come check on how good he really is…”
“…”
In the height of summer, the wooden building by the fish market felt stiflingly hot inside, but at that instant, Pu Xingui’s brow furrowed, and the whole room seemed to drop several degrees. He was a rebel who’d been hunted by the court, running for his life out here for a full year now — he understood perfectly well that a coincidence like this could never be a good sign. It was almost certainly some carefully calculated malice — but how could that possibly be…
Beside him, Chen Shuangran wiped the dust off the old spyglass, brought it up to one eye, then lowered it again. “Oh, right… Elder Brother, what exactly brought you here… You really won’t say?”
“…”
In the distance across the market grounds, a fight and disturbance had already begun to unfold…
…
At a quarter past the hour of Xu, Ning Ji and Qu Longjun were, coincidentally, discussing this very bandit named Ni Po.
“…Come to think of it, I actually ran into this guy once, right when I first got to Jiangning…”
“Oh?”
“…His skills are actually decent, if I remember right. That was back when I’d just arrived outside Jiangning — he was dueling one-on-one with some lunatic from Xu Zhaonan’s group who practiced some kind of spirit-possession boxing. This guy’s fist technique is genuinely solid, his fundamentals are good — his stance work too, honestly, quite decent, nothing flashy, but combined with his punches, he could really go toe-to-toe with a top-tier fighter… And he hasn’t even hit his ceiling yet…”
“So… how does he compare to you?”
“To me? Hahaha, well… how do I even put it… that’s honestly kind of absurd…”
“…Huh?” Qu Longjun blinked, not quite understanding.
Among the pedestrians near the front gate of Silver Bridge Ward, a powerfully built man flung open the cloak that had become somewhat unnecessary in the summer heat, striding forward with great steps into the ward market.
For a moment, Ning Ji’s mind went into disarray. He just killed the Ministry of Justice’s chief constable, and he still dares to walk around out here like this? Are Fuzhou’s constables really that useless?
At that same moment, a young officer, sent out by the Street Patrol to maintain order, stepped forward holding a water-and-fire staff to intercept him: “Hey, what do you think you’re—”
The stench of blood spread through the air. The murderous man, striding forward, swung his left arm in a broad sweep — with a resounding thud, the officer, staff and all, went flying, tumbling across the ground. Ning Ji’s face instantly tightened. To be fair, although this man had walked past eyeing him suspiciously more than a few times already, his overall impression of him had actually been favorable, because this man wasn’t some jaded old hand coasting through his job at the yamen — even though he only held a minor post with the Street Patrol, from what Ning Ji had observed of his daily conduct, he seemed to have genuinely taken to heart some of Fujian’s “honor the sovereign, expel the barbarians” propaganda, and carried out his work with a fair bit of personal initiative as a result.
Only a small thing, but Ning Ji felt that something about this man carried a faint resemblance to the feeling he’d gotten back in Chengdu, in the southwest.
Of course, with a villain now committing violence in the open, there wasn’t much more to say about it. Ning Ji glanced around. Come to think of it, over an hour had already passed since this man had assassinated the chief constable — for him to suddenly show up here now most likely meant he’d been spotted by some constable by chance and had fled in the direction of Silver Bridge Ward. That meant the main body of the Ministry of Justice’s forces would surely appear any moment, chasing him toward the far end of the ward. Ning Ji did feel some goodwill toward the young Emperor, but for now he still needed to think about infiltrating the enemy’s ranks, so there was no reason to make a scene. Better to just pull Qu Longjun aside out of the way.
This line of reasoning was entirely sound. And yet, as the figure drew closer, even slamming his fists together with a resounding crack as he strode forward, blood surging visibly through him, a look of “I don’t understand what’s happening” — even “what have I done to deserve this” — began creeping into Ning Ji’s expression, mixed with a growing sense of absurdity.
The man’s gaze, in fact, remained fixed almost entirely on Qu Longjun, paying little attention to the little dog beside her whose expression was gradually twisting in confusion. His footwork looked ordinary enough on the surface, but was, in truth, quite profound — according to his master, it fused the legendary Daoist steps of Yu’s Pace and the Dipper Stride, each step stirring the blood and qi, driving him ever closer to his peak. He had come to enlightenment through combat, and now, at this glorious moment, he meant to unleash his single strongest strike.
On his seventh step, he had already closed the distance, reaching out to grab at the fair-faced, handsome youth before him.
He called out: “Hey—”
The sound rolled out across the street like thunder.
And before him, the handsome young man stood with one hand tucked behind his back, wearing a faintly mocking smile — even taking a small step forward to meet him halfway.
This was an unexpected instant. Ni Po’s grasping hand could crush bluestone to powder — turned into a fist, it would have been even more devastating. For a split second, even his own eyes flickered with surprise, and mixed into the trailing sound of “Hey—” came a muttered “What the—”
No one knew that in that same instant, cold sweat had already broken out across Ning Ji’s back.
A ferocious gust of fist-force came howling toward Ni Po. He dropped his arm to block it — but after that hard clash, the incoming figure suddenly shifted his fist into a grasping claw, seizing Ni Po’s elbow in a reverse hold, while his leg drove upward like a cannon shell straight into Ni Po’s thigh. Ni Po took the hard kick, then swung his other arm down in an iron-hard smash — his forearm wasn’t merely hardened through relentless training, but reinforced with a fine iron rod capable of turning aside a steel blade. This single blow could have shattered stone slabs. Yet, unexpectedly, his opponent raised his own arm and, absorbing the blow at a slight disadvantage, took the hit head-on, then surged forward with rapid, driving kicks and stomps aimed at his lower body.
Ni Po retreated at high speed, but his opponent, gripping his clothes or his arm, clung to him like a leech burrowing into bone, crashing forward relentlessly.
Faster than words could describe, the two figures, in the very instant of contact, veered diagonally toward the side and rear of Ni Po’s forward path. The tremendous momentum and blistering speed of their grappling sent both figures staggering and spinning as if drunk, covering several zhang of distance in an instant before crashing together into a nearby stall, sending scattered goods and vegetable leaves flying skyward as the propped-up canopy collapsed with a thunderous crash.
Ni Po was sent flying even further, tumbling to a stop by the doorway of a shop before scrambling back up, his eyes filled with both shock and delight. “Hahahaha, well, well — what technique did you just use, to actually break through my Divine Might of Yu’s Pace—”
“Your mother—” Ning Ji, meanwhile, stood up from a pile of debris, a vegetable leaf perched atop his head. He was naturally shorter than his opponent, but in that moment, his frame hardly looked slight at all — indeed, with blood and qi surging through both his arms, his silhouette in the night seemed to have swelled a size larger. Caught between overwhelming fury and lingering fear, he cursed aloud, swung his arm violently, and shattered a nearby thick wooden table that was still somehow intact, into pieces.
There were countless ways to build and release force in the martial world. Ning Ji had never studied this man’s step-and-pace technique specifically, but he could still perceive its inner subtlety. In that split-second exchange, Qu Longjun was still sticking to the “master-in-disguise method” he’d drilled into her over and over — heaven only knew that in that instant, he’d very nearly unleashed everything he had, breaking through every reserve just to hold this man off.
What frustrated him most was that he had absolutely no idea why this man had come after him with murderous intent in the first place: I never did anything to provoke you—
Ni Po, for his part, paid no attention to the cursing, simply spreading both arms wide. “Hahaha, never expected to run into such a formidable master today. Wonderful! I am ‘Iron Fist’ Ni Po of Jizhou! I want you to help me achieve completion—”
“I’m your long-lost father! Today I’m going to beat you into a dumpling — and stuff you right back in!”
In an instant, Ni Po lunged forward, and Ning Ji surged to meet him.
…
On the second floor of a building in the middle section of Silver Bridge Ward, the moment Ni Po appeared, Pu Xingui had already been marveling at Chen Shuangran’s recklessness.
“Ni Po… Chen Shuangran, have you lost your mind? He just killed Song Xiaoming, and you’re worried the constables won’t be able to find him fast enough, is that it—”
“Master Ni’s ambitions… are not something rats like you and I could ever understand…”
“What, what…”
“He’s just killed the chief constable, and before long, he’ll show off again in front of everyone by taking down two more — future generations will speak of it as a fine tale of the martial world…”
But a moment later, everyone in the room fell into a quiet stillness.
The distance from here to the entrance of the night market on the other end of Silver Bridge Ward was neither too far nor too close — while the two old spyglasses in the room helped sharpen the view somewhat, even with the naked eye, one could get a rough sense of what was happening, let alone with Ni Po’s forceful shouts carrying such a great distance.
In the night, they could see the two figures crash into each other, both wielding fierce, powerful strikes, neither holding back in the slightest at this point, the fight raging with tremendous force — even an ordinary person with no martial training could tell, just from the speed and ferocity of those exchanges, just how formidable the two combatants really were.
And not far off in the night, sounds of disturbance had already begun to rise — constables were rushing this way at full speed.
A moment later, the Street Patrol officer lying on the ground, still struggling in his own blood, pulled out a bamboo whistle and blew into it with all his strength.
“What do you mean, ‘show off… by taking down two more’?”
Pu Xingui turned to Chen Shuangran and asked.
Over by the cart-turned-goods-stall in the distance, the older of the two martial artists, “Long Aotian,” was still calmly tidying up items on his cart at that very moment, completely indifferent to the battle raging beside him.
“…If those two team up against him, does your Ni Po even stand a chance?”
Chen Shuangran’s brow furrowed. “This… this I truly hadn’t considered… Ni Po’s skill level…”
“This youth’s martial skill is remarkably strong, and… it must come from some deep family training,” the middle-aged man who had accompanied Chen Shuangran up the stairs spoke up.
Chen Shuangran seemed to hold him in considerable respect. “Sir, can you tell where his style comes from?”
“I cannot say for certain… After the Jingping Humiliation, northern boxing spread south, and the various schools have intermingled ever since. This young man’s stance carries a rigor and stability, and for someone his age, his inner power is especially impressive in its raw scale… Perhaps only a handful of established martial-world families, or a peerless grandmaster, could produce a disciple like this.”
“Such as?”
“Such as Lin Zongwu…”
As they spoke up above, out in the field of view, Ni Po had already leapt back away from the crowd nearby — he knew there was no chance of winning any real gains here today. He cupped his hands together in a martial salute and gave a hearty, dashing laugh.
“Well done — just as they say, Young Hero Long and Young Hero Sun’s martial arts are peerless indeed. This Ni has learned his lesson today… The timing simply wasn’t in my favor today. If fate allows it another time, we’ll meet again in the martial world, and I’ll seek further instruction!”
He spoke with a grand, dignified air — this, too, was the standard way of building one’s reputation within the underworld. Across the way, the youth made no move to pursue him. Ni Po vaulted and rolled several times in succession, disappearing into the darkness along the narrow alleys of the ward.
The fierce battle had ended without a clear victor, but in a certain sense, that was actually the best possible outcome. And at this point, Pu Xingui had more or less worked out the man’s calculations.
“…So that’s why you wanted to see the Fish King — this was your escape route all along.”
Over by the window, Chen Shuangran, gazing thoughtfully at the distant lights, answered offhandedly, “And what of it?”
“Pity, though — your Ni Po won’t get to make his name after all, leaving from here. It’ll probably bring trouble down on the Fish King again — surely you don’t think the yamen doesn’t know whose territory this is?”
“…The Fish King knows how to behave himself.” Chen Shuangran laughed. “Besides — how much we’ve actually gained today… only you, Elder Brother, seem unable to see, isn’t that right?”
“Heh heh. Let’s just call it your gain then…” Pu Xingui gave a cold chuckle.
Out at the entrance to Silver Bridge Ward in the distance, several constables had already begun arriving one after another. The two of them were still bickering when the middle-aged “sir” standing by the window suddenly frowned and reached over, taking the spyglass from Chen Shuangran. “Something’s not right…” He looked toward the ward entrance several times over.
“…What’s wrong?”
“That young man is gone.”
The others in the room hesitated for a moment, but in the next instant, everyone sprang into motion.
“Where did the Fish King’s men arrange things…”
“I didn’t see it personally, but it’s usually the waterway to the north.”
“Check the shadows.”
“Where’s Ni Po gone…”
“I can’t see him.”
“…Over here!”
One by one, they threw open the surrounding windows, peering intently into the surrounding gloom. After a moment, it was Qian Dingzhong who first spotted a dark spot at a fork in the waterway not far off — looking very closely, one could just make out a strange flag hanging from a black-canopied boat by the bank, several courtyards away from where they stood.
Chen Shuangran took up the spyglass and swept it around, and after a moment, she too spotted Ni Po running through the darkness, moving along a path by the riverbank toward the black-canopied boat that had been arranged in advance. Since the view of that path was blocked by courtyard walls, only the top half of his head could occasionally be glimpsed poking above them.
Just as the figure was about to reach it, the middle-aged “sir” standing by the window murmured, “So fast…” The others turned to look in another direction, and in that instant, a figure suddenly darted across the street corner.
On the other side of the wall, Ni Po suddenly froze in place. A figure emerged from the black-canopied boat, then abruptly ducked back in — it seemed, from the look of it, that someone now hidden behind the courtyard wall, out of everyone’s sight, had shouted him back.
Even without being able to see the person directly, everyone could guess that the two were now facing off against each other…
…
On the road behind the courtyard wall, piled with wooden crates and other junk along the riverbank, Ni Po spotted the youth who had come charging toward him — the youth, too, was striding forward with great steps, looking exactly as he had the moment he’d first entered Silver Bridge Ward.
The boatman aboard the black-canopied boat poked his head out, only to be pointed at by the approaching youth: “Get back.” This was one of the Fish King’s underlings, who, having no idea what was going on, retreated in fright.
Ni Po smiled. “So we’re calling it a draw for today, hm? Did you really think this Ni had no more trump cards left?”
“Heh, a draw…”
The youth’s figure had already closed the distance. His punching speed remained much as before — the kind Ni Po could still handle. Ni Po sighed inwardly; he knew he’d gotten a bit carried away today and had likely offended this formidable young fighter. There was nothing for it now but to fight it out — in truth, once Chen Shuangran had these two brothers under her wing, he’d hoped to cross hands with them further anyway.
He took two punches, and then a third — a sudden sharp pain flared along the side of his arm, his strength draining away in an instant. Then a blade’s edge sliced past his face, then his lower belly, his thigh, his shoulder…
The punches themselves seemed no different from the earlier fight out on the street, but Ni Po knew something had gone terribly wrong. Fighting blade against fist wasn’t unusual in itself — as “Iron Fist,” he was more than capable of parrying weapons with his fists or the iron bars bound to his arms in real combat. But his opponent’s blade came utterly silent, without the slightest warning — by the third punch, he’d already taken a cut, and it wasn’t even a sneak attack landed while the two were caught up in the heat of battle. It was that the killing intent and technique behind it were so refined, so seamlessly smooth, that Ni Po hadn’t sensed a thing at all.
By the fourth exchange, he was already trying to block and counter with his iron bars, but with every clash, his opponent was just a fraction faster than him. Ni Po clutched both hands over his vital points, trying to retreat with everything he had. In the darkness, blood sprayed like rain — the incoming shadows of fist and blade spread like ink flung across the sky, and in the span of a few short moments, a rapid series of wet, thudding impacts covered most of Ni Po’s body. Backed against the wall, his strength gave out; he tried to lunge forward with everything he had left, meaning to leap into the river, but the bladed weapon struck his back again and again in rapid succession. He crashed into several wooden crates nearby, and then the youth seized him with both hands and, with tremendous force, dragged him back…
…
In the darkness, they could sense that Ni Po had engaged the other in combat there, but before long, his head, which had briefly appeared above the courtyard wall, wobbled and vanished, leaving only a few dark streaks of blood slashed across the air. The youth’s figure, behind the wall, had swallowed Ni Po whole.
Given how fierce the earlier fight out on the street had been, this scene unfolding in the darkness felt eerily, uncannily different. Pu Xingui and Chen Shuangran had no clear idea what exactly had just happened, until they saw Ni Po attempt to leap out, only to crash into and topple some crates.
At this point, their field of view finally widened a little. In the instant Ni Po flew through the air, the youth’s fists came crashing down repeatedly on his back — no one could tell what kind of weapon it was, but Ni Po had clearly lost all his strength by then, smashing through crates as he fell to the ground, only to be dragged back by the youth into the shadows by the wall.
The boatman on the black-canopied boat by the river stood up, blade drawn, but before he could even straighten his chest, some object came hurtling toward him like a cannonball, sending him crashing back into the boat’s canopy, the whole vessel rocking violently.
In the darkness, the several figures at the window fell silent for a moment. Then they saw the youth step out into view, muttering something under his breath, dragging Ni Po’s now utterly unresisting body along, and toss him into the black-canopied boat as well before jumping down himself, apparently wrapping the two figures inside the boat with an oilcloth.
“Ni Po… is he still alive?” Pu Xingui asked blankly.
Qian Dingzhong shook his head. “…No idea.”
“If he meant to kill him, couldn’t he have done it out in the street?”
“…Maybe he doesn’t want anyone to know?”
Out in their field of view, the youth climbed back up onto the bank from the boat, hands on his hips, seeming to be thinking something over as he surveyed his surroundings.
The five people in the room were, for the most part, seasoned figures of the underworld who had weathered all manner of treacherous situations, having witnessed every kind of fight, bloodshed, and scheme imaginable. But for some reason, following the earlier thunderous clash out on the street, watching Ni Po simply vanish into the darkness like this left everyone with a chill running down their spine, as if they had just witnessed some ghost or demon at work in the mortal world.
“This man is the deadliest kind of killer…” the middle-aged “sir” by the window spoke up. “That whole boxing display of his was nothing but a cover.”
Hearing this, the others in the room all found themselves nodding in agreement. Suddenly, he began stepping backward, calling out in a low voice:
“—Fall back!”
The words had barely left his mouth when Qian Dingzhong was already retreating toward the back of the window. The third to react was the carriage driver who had come up along with Chen Shuangran; he and Pu Xingui reached out together and pulled the window shut.
Of the five, Chen Shuangran’s martial skill was by far the weakest. Just as the window was about to close completely, she caught sight of the youth standing by the riverbank not far off in the darkness, his head already lifting to look this way — and in an instant, that deep, unfathomable gaze locked onto their location!
Killing intent spread outward—
Chen Shuangran’s eyes filled with horror, and she staggered backward and sat down hard.