In the dim fish market, the black-canopied boat still rocked gently upon the water, amid the piled clutter of junk. The youth’s gaze was like that of a predator’s eyes right after a kill, searching for any potential witness to what had just happened.

Up in the second-floor room of the shop, Chen Shuangran’s sudden lurch backward nearly sent her sprawling to the floor. The middle-aged “sir” reached out from behind, steadying her.

“…Did he see us?” Chen Shuangran asked, almost without thinking.

The middle-aged man took a step forward.

“This man’s devotion to the martial path is absolute; his senses are extraordinarily sharp.” Through the narrow gap in the window, they could see the youth’s body, several courtyards away, had already turned, his head tilting slightly as he stared directly toward them. The man stood behind the window, seeming to meet that gaze head-on. “But don’t worry — he won’t do anything reckless…”

Qian Dingzhong said, “If he comes over here, he’ll be the one who dies.”

The fight that had just unfolded down by the riverbank had been shocking in its ferocity, but what made it truly unsettling was the stark contrast with the earlier duel at the front gate of Silver Bridge Ward. What had originally looked, to everyone watching, like an evenly matched contest had, in this second confrontation, turned almost the instant blades were crossed into the older, supposedly more accomplished fighter being utterly overwhelmed, without even managing a single moment of resistance. For those in the room who had already grown somewhat familiar with Ni Po’s fighting style, this scene marked something genuinely bewildering within Fuzhou’s martial underworld.

But taking a step back, one had to remember: while Ni Po’s skill certainly ranked among the finest in the underworld, that didn’t mean he was unbeatable under heaven. Right there in that very room, the “Wenhou Sword” Qian Dingzhong felt confident he could overpower the man in a direct duel — not to mention the middle-aged man who’d accompanied Chen Shuangran up the stairs, whose eye for martial skill and depth of cultivation seemed even more unfathomable. If that beast-like youth out there really did come charging over to kill them, the group wouldn’t have been terribly alarmed.

For the moment, though, no one quite knew how best to respond, and the room fell into a brief silence.

Pu Xingui turned to Chen Shuangran. “Aren’t you going to go save Ni Po?”

Chen Shuangran glanced at him but said nothing.

The middle-aged man beside her spoke up instead: “The way of the assassin favors trading a life for a mission, using weakness to overcome strength. If Brother Qian and I go together, we’d have perhaps a nine-in-ten chance.”

Qian Dingzhong gave a cold laugh in response. “Still don’t know your honorable name, sir.”

The middle-aged man didn’t answer. Pu Xingui said, “If this boy turns out to be a plant working for the authorities, and he’s caught Ni Po, you two are in for some serious trouble.”

“Wouldn’t that be perfect… it’d let us feel out just what he’s made of…” In the dimness, Chen Shuangran smiled. “…Though I’d like to know — what’s your government doing planting two ‘lecher’ agents here, running a little goods stall?”

Outside, the night remained in chaos; inside the room, the air was cluttered and stiflingly hot. The murderous youth out there kept his gaze fixed on them from a distance, and the exchange of words within the darkened room moved quickly. With Ni Po’s grand display having ended in his capture instead, any attempt to rescue him now was no longer realistic. But if he was only wounded and not dead, moving immediately might still force this little demon into finishing Ni Po off, eliminating any future trouble.

But at this moment, several constables who had arrived first were already searching their way over from the front market of Silver Bridge Ward. To clash right now with this bizarre yet devastatingly effective little demon — even if they won, it would only push him to deal Ni Po a killing blow; and if things didn’t go smoothly, he might well escalate the confrontation further and drag everyone up on the second floor into a fight regardless of the cost. Ni Po’s life or death was a minor matter — but with Pu Xingui and Chen Shuangran both present here at the same time, if they got tangled up with him, this little demon could kill one or two people — even if he’d previously violated a few men and women — and not only face no punishment, the court would probably reward him for it.

At a deeper level, though — even though Ni Po had gone down and Chen Shuangran’s side had taken a hit, Pu Xingui understood perfectly well that little Blackskin had already begun eyeing these two Silver Bridge Ward brothers with real interest.

And so had he, if he were honest. Having been talked into it by Yu Hezhang two days prior, he’d still felt some hesitation coming here today — but at this very moment, he found himself almost hoping Chen Shuangran would send someone else out to tangle with this four-foot little fellow. If the two sides fought hard enough to draw real blood, thoroughly alienating the youth in front of them — and perhaps even that far more inscrutable elder brother of his back at the front market — then when he himself later stepped forward, bringing along Yu Hezhang and the others, the odds of striking up a partnership would surely rise considerably.

Letting the uncouth, ill-mannered Chen Shuangran go charging ahead recklessly, while he worked quietly behind the scenes to win people’s hearts — this was exactly how his overt scheme was meant to play out.

Of course — whether it was simply her naturally cold, indifferent temperament, or whether she’d seen through his intentions in that very instant — Chen Shuangran didn’t take the bait.

And it was in that same brief moment of scheming and countering that the middle-aged man tapped a finger lightly against the window frame and said, “He’s leaving.”

Pu Xingui pushed the window open slightly. Through the gap, he watched the murderous youth climb aboard the black-canopied boat, pick up a long oar, push the small vessel away from the shore, and row off into the dark distance of the waterway. Glancing to the other side, he saw the constables drawing closer, and said, “Time to go.”

The middle-aged “sir” nodded as well. Chen Shuangran turned, and the group of five made their way through a side door on the second floor, following a passage arranged in advance to make their exit. Once they’d crossed the stone bridge leading into Silver Bridge Ward, they split into two directions. Chen Shuangran turned to the man dressed as a carriage driver who had been accompanying her. “Uncle Nian, would you mind staying behind a little longer to see how things develop… If the hounds have left, go check in with the Fish King, see if there’s anything he needs help with. Also… if you happen to run into that young fellow, don’t stir up any unpleasantness with him…”

Her side had three people total, so she could spare one to stay and keep watch. Having given her instructions, she also shot Pu Xingui a provoking wink. Pu Xingui shook his head, unwilling to lower himself to argue with someone so unpredictable — he’d already seen quite enough surprises for one night, and there was still plenty more to think over. The background and identity of Long and Sun here in Silver Bridge Ward was one matter; whether Chen Shuangran’s arrival here tonight had truly been such a coincidence — whether it really had come through Han Yuan’s connection, or whether there was a leak somewhere closer to him — that was something he needed to stay especially wary of…

Chen Shuangran and Pu Xingui headed off in different directions, vanishing into the night streets.

…

It was still only the hour of Xu, and the bustle at the entrance to Silver Bridge Ward hadn’t died down yet. Constables, physicians, and onlookers gradually converged on the area, along with several courtesans from the pleasure houses and a number of well-bred young ladies from nearby households, all caught up in the crowd.

Together with Fendie and a few other outgoing young women, Qu Longjun went around compensating some of the shopkeepers whose stalls had been damaged in the fighting. Unlike the loud, brazen “Sun Wukong,” who showed not the slightest hesitation about bullying men and women alike, this “Little Long” standing before them came across as refined, gentle, and easygoing — many people found themselves quite fond of him, and felt some sympathy that the two brothers had been drawn into this senseless trouble by a ruffian’s provocation. Of course, everyone was well aware by now of just how extraordinary this “Young Hero Long’s” martial background truly was — his easygoing manner was simply how he chose to carry himself, and ordinary people wouldn’t dare put on airs in front of him regardless.

One of the constables who arrived first tried to get him to submit to questioning right away, but was thrown off by his casual wave and the words “we’ll talk later.” The constable then spent a while accompanying him as he compensated the various shopkeepers, gradually piecing together a rough picture of what had happened. Some time later, a more senior officer came over and, in front of the stout auntie’s rice-cake stall, had a conversation with “Long Aotian” carried out in the diplomatic manner one might use with a figure of the martial world.

Under ordinary circumstances, the authorities probably wouldn’t have shown such courtesy. But with the situation in Fuzhou as complicated as it now stood — the court and the greenwood rebels practically at each other’s throats — and given that this Ni Po had only just killed Chief Constable Song Xiaoming, while “Long Aotian’s” own brother had managed to fight the man to a standstill right there in the street, this level of skill was not something the yamen’s officers could afford to treat carelessly. What’s more, the whole street had clearly witnessed that it was Ni Po who had come looking to start a fight, that it was Little Sun who had intercepted him, and that this Little Long standing before them hadn’t so much as raised a hand against anyone the entire time.

To possess such extraordinary skill while remaining entirely blameless — the yamen could, in theory, still consider bringing him in for questioning, but if he truly lost his temper and a fight broke out, both the martial world and official circles would likely conclude the constables had behaved with shocking disrespect, and they’d end up having to come apologize afterward.

And so, there was nothing for it but to question him according to the customs of the martial world.

His calm responses, in the end, didn’t yield much of substance. This “Young Master Long” explained that he and his brother had come to Fuzhou simply to travel and gain experience, and that seeing how well-governed and orderly things were under the court’s administration here, the two of them had had no intention whatsoever of stirring up trouble. But as the saying goes, the tree wishes for stillness, yet the wind will not cease — the two of them had indeed made a few enemies out on the road, and had also encountered attempts at recruitment by various greenwood factions. But this was rather like saying “being handsome isn’t my fault” — every so often some reckless underworld figure would come looking for them, and it was, frankly, a nuisance for him too.

As for someone like Ni Po today — having just gotten himself into serious trouble elsewhere, only to immediately come make a big show of it in front of his own brother — that clearly wasn’t something he himself had wanted, nor could the man be called a friend. He had indeed heard rumors before about this group scheming something untoward, but after today’s incident, the grudge between them now ran deep, and he and his brother were, frankly, rather furious about it…

Such an account, coming from an ordinary person, would surely have prompted further questioning — how exactly had they made these enemies out on the road, who exactly had tried to recruit them, who exactly were these reckless underworld figures. But coming from an accomplished martial artist, this much already demonstrated sufficient sincerity. Thinking it over carefully, the senior officer had to admit it made sense — if the two of them really were on friendly terms with Ni Po, there was no way the man would have shown up here again right after killing Song Xiaoming. And since the two sides clearly weren’t allies, the yamen would probably need to send someone of chief-constable rank to make a proper gesture of goodwill toward these two brothers going forward; anything more that risked giving offense would have to wait for another time.

He also asked after “Little Sun’s” whereabouts following the fight.

“If some deranged stranger suddenly barged into your home, fighting and breaking things left and right, how would you feel?” Long Aotian shook his head helplessly, laughing. “…You’d naturally be furious, wouldn’t you? As for my younger brother here, I imagine he’s gone off somewhere to sulk. The fight just now was quite intense, and I know several shops along the street suffered losses I haven’t had a chance to look into yet. But don’t worry — my brother is good-natured by nature. Even if he occasionally strikes a bit too hard and injures someone, it will always turn out to have been the other party’s fault. Once he’s back, ask him yourself and you’ll see.”

“Always… the other party’s fault…” The officer jotted down the key phrase, half-inclined to laugh, but glancing up at the young man’s stern, cold expression across from him, he swallowed back both the laughter and the follow-up question.

“This… well, naturally, naturally so.”

…

The questioning within the ward market continued for some time, and the matter of how exactly to handle these two formidable brothers was gradually pushed up the chain to the yamen’s senior officials. Meanwhile, more constables moved into the back section of the fish market to conduct a search.

It wasn’t difficult to conclude that the man had already fled. This was, after all, a professional killer backed by numerous great clans, working toward outright rebellion — for him to appear so openly in front of a crowd, even brazenly shouting out his own name, meant he had surely already made thorough preparations for his escape beforehand. Since the constables hadn’t managed to catch him in the first crucial moments, casting the net wider now served little real purpose.

After sweeping through the complicated but sparsely populated fish market, several veteran constables even went and gave the Fish King, Gao Xingzong, a hard time, but in the end made no arrests.

Although, by the usual logic of the underworld, this matter was very likely tied to him in some way, at present there was neither evidence nor a witness to be found, and Ni Po had surely already fled far away by now — hauling the man back in for questioning would only meet with the usual runaround of feigned ignorance. The Fish King was a local, with his own clan rooted here; if he rallied his kinsmen to make trouble at the yamen over an unfounded arrest with nothing but circumstantial suspicion to go on, it would only leave Fuzhou Prefecture in an even more awkward position.

Of course, the authorities had their own methods for dealing with this. Since they already knew, in all likelihood, that it was him, the plan going forward was simple enough: subject his fish market business to a daily sweep, dig back through every unresolved case and lead from the past, and pin down his various underlings and associates one by one. So long as there was reasonably solid evidence and justification behind it, his clan wouldn’t dare cause a scene in the streets — they’d only end up resenting the Fish King himself, for dragging everyone down over some outsider’s business.

Amid the shifting shadows of countless lanterns near and far in the night, all the various threads of the affair continued unfolding in their orderly, methodical way through the surrounding confusion and darkness. The constables had no idea yet that something had happened to Ni Po, though they did carry out some investigation into the traces of blood and struggle left behind by the riverbank in the dark. On a rooftop at the edge of the fish market, the old pirate Deng Nian, left behind by Chen Shuangran, quietly kept watch over everything happening in and around Silver Bridge Ward.

His own identity was entirely clean — even if a constable stopped and questioned him on the road, there’d be no problem at all — and as one of the veteran members of the Chen family’s bandit outfit, he had always enjoyed Chen Shuangran’s trust. Watching the constables arrive in force, he hadn’t moved any closer to the ward itself; only once the intensity of the later search efforts began to taper off did he finally move in, intending to head over to the Fish King’s place and check on how things stood.

Recalling everything that had happened down by the riverbank earlier, he knew that if the Fish King was willing to help, it might be possible to trace where the black-canopied boat, now piloted away by that youth, had gone — and if that could be determined, he might even be able to locate Ni Po’s whereabouts once the youth had left, perhaps even rescue him. Still, there was no telling whether all the constables had truly cleared out yet; this would have to be handled by feel, doing what he could as opportunity allowed.

It was already nearing the hour of Hai. Just as he was about to head down from the rooftop, he spotted, far off in the darkness, a black-canopied boat gliding toward the shore.

The youth who had killed Ni Po in a single exchange… was coming back…

Deng Nian didn’t dare observe any further. Pirates and assassins operating on the water shared a similar temperament — patient, sharp-eyed, adept at seizing opportunities, skilled in the fierce art of overcoming strength with weakness. He knew he was likely no match for this youth, but he wasn’t especially fearful either.

Of course, there was no need to engage the man too closely right now either.

He climbed down quietly and made his way through the shadows along the fish market streets, slipping silently through the long avenue. As he approached the road near the Fish King’s residence, he lowered his head and walked over with deliberately casual steps.

He didn’t spot the constables right away. It was only as he neared the dried-goods shop by the Fish King’s place that he suddenly froze.

On the dim, nearly lightless street, that youth called Sun Wukong — dressed in gray, his clothes stained with blood in more than a few places, though he’d wiped some of it off carelessly with water — was patrolling silently outside the Fish King’s building at that very moment, slowly surveying everything above and below in the darkness, reminding Deng Nian of a great shark cruising through pitch-black waters.

The youth turned his head, his gaze pure and innocent, looking straight at Deng Nian.

Deng Nian, of course, wasn’t fooled by any of it. He glanced at the youth once, then continued walking past at his usual, unhurried pace, as if nothing were amiss.

Sounds of the bustling market drifted over from the distance, lights flickering, but along this stretch of the long street at that moment, all Deng Nian could hear was the vast silence echoing off his own pounding heartbeat.

Since he was heading in the direction of the night market, the youth didn’t grow suspicious of him.

He walked on like this for quite some distance, then turned his head slightly and saw the youth’s figure heading into the dimly lit dried-goods shop belonging to the Fish King, Gao Xingzong, where only a single bean-sized flame of lamplight still burned.

Deng Nian turned away.

He knew exactly what the youth was about to go do inside…

That scene from less than an hour ago, down by the dark riverbank, the youth’s bloodthirsty gaze drifting toward him in the shadows — it replayed itself now in his mind.

This vicious…?

This vicious…?

…

At the dried-goods shop, only the last panel of the door remained unclosed.

Inside, goods and furniture were crammed together in cluttered disarray, a dim oil lamp burning quietly in the darkness, looking as though the stifling heat of the room might snuff it out at any moment.

The figure who entered silently surveyed everything inside the shop.

In the darkness at the back of the shop, the Fish King had already spotted him too. He rose slowly and walked over, trying his best to sound normal as he spoke, in the local Fujian dialect: “We’re closing up.”

The figure who had entered didn’t answer.

In his hand he held a piece of dried cuttlefish — thump,

thump…

thump…

He tapped it lightly and slowly against the wooden shelving in the shop, then turned his scrutinizing gaze upon the Fish King.

“I saw it…”

In the dimness, the youth spoke slowly.

“Just now… you… were… spying.”

A silent gust of wind seemed to sweep through the hall in that instant.

The lamplight in the shop flickered wildly, nearly guttering out.