Chapter 47: Tiger Mountain Stronghold

Nightfall gently drew its curtain.

A carriage flying the Four Seas flag, escorted by over twenty mounted guards, rolled out through the city gate.

Two armored soldiers exchanged glances; one removed his armor and slipped away quietly.

“Did Long San leave the city?”

Inside the lavish hall, Ding Feng frowned: “It’s this late—what’s he doing out?”

A young servant replied: “Our men inside say his left arm wound has worsened; he’s returning to Yuejing to seek a renowned physician allied with the Four Seas Guild.”

“Or perhaps he’s too ashamed to remain in Dongling City after causing the Four Seas Guild such heavy losses.”

He speculated.

Long San said nothing more.

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…

That was moonlight reflecting on the pond’s surface, and countless fireflies clustering into flickering dots; occasionally, pairs of green-glowing eyes—wolves in the forest.

Even now, he still didn’t believe the boy intended to storm Tiger Mountain alone—he assumed the youth had summoned powerful backing.

Under dim light, the familiar pastoral scenery.

“Hmph! This is malicious intent!”

The clerks shrank back.

Ding Feng looked at “Treading Tiger” Lu Hou: “In my view, we might as well kill him when the chance arises—clean and final.”

“Unnecessary. Don’t drive them to desperation.”

“Young Master, Tiger Mountain’s stronghold lies right here—I’m certain of it!”

“Not simple. Just this one stronghold, two or three hundred bandits—even a ten-thousand-man army couldn’t take it!” Jiang Ding murmured, continuing to observe the stronghold’s layout.

The bandits quickly opened the gate, expertly took charge, and unbound the sacks.

Occasionally, a glint of light flashed.

Jiang Ding’s expression grew complex.

Three sides were sheer cliffs; only one path for bandits to enter or exit, blocked by a high wall of wood and stone.

“Army!”

“Anyone—remember, anyone!”

Ding Feng snorted and fell silent.

Long San said gravely: “I don’t know if it’s within ten li or dozens of li—I’ll wait here for the Young Master seven days. If I receive no fire signal by then, I’ll head to Yuejing.”

“Correct. These arrangements, the bandits’ strict training—all bear the unmistakable style of an ancient cold-weapon army camp. Does one of the Seven Tigers of Tiger Mountain have a military background?”

At the gate, a group of horse traders appeared from some narrow trail, tossing down wriggling cloth-wrapped bundles and shouting up at the wall.

The sources were extremely complex—horrifying to behold.

Searching slowly, searching slowly.

!.

He noticed the barracks inside the stronghold were neatly arranged; ditches, ponds, latrines, storage rooms—all placed with deliberate care, aligned in strict horizontal and vertical lines, bearing a distinct style.

After six or seven hours of continuous travel, everyone—including Long San—looked exhausted, had long since dismounted, and walked leading their horses.

That faint orange glow grew closer, multiplied; when the drone flew overhead, a stronghold perched atop sheer cliffs appeared before them.

Last time he intervened to stop the Wild Wolf Gang from kidnapping beggars on Lanban Street, Long Shi and others had stopped—whether they paid off their superiors or for some other reason, he didn’t know.

“Third Master, are we really going to wait seven days for him?”

He raised his gleaming long blade, eyes blood-red and wild: “Don’t leave my sight—not even to eat, drink, or relieve yourself. Or don’t blame me for breaking brotherhood!” “Don’t worry, Third Master!”

“Tiger Mountain won’t act.”

“Found… it!”

Jiang Ding remained patient, breathing steadily, conserving maximum energy. “Young Master, we’ve arrived.”

“Wait.”

Jiang Ding sat in the corner, clutching his sword, slightly surprised.

He wouldn’t fight anyone. If it meant suicide, he wouldn’t go—and he wouldn’t let his men go either.

Torches burned constantly along the walls; bandits held swords, spears, halberds, bows, and crossbows—many purchased from unknown sources—discipline remained orderly, even at dawn, maintaining basic vigilance.

Jiang Ding opened his eyes; a faint white glow flickered across his brows and vanished.

Inside many sacks were clearly children.

Thirty minutes later.

Dark mountains stood vast and silent.

One of the clerks couldn’t help asking.

Jiang Ding speculated.

Even if he tried to curry favor, he couldn’t convince Tiger Mountain that a half-disabled man would plot against them.

Looking around, the sky was utterly black; insect chirps filled his ears, occasionally punctuated by wolf howls and monkey cries—he had long left human civilization behind.

Long San said nothing more, found a high ground, set up camp, and silently chewed cold dried meat.

“I didn’t expect the Manager of the Four Seas Guild to come.”

Jiang Ding pondered briefly in his mind, then a thought surfaced.

The carriage had traveled six or seven hours; despite the violent bouncing, Jiang Ding remained in cultivation, circulating internal energy, gently nourishing and tempering the twelve primary meridians and eighty minor branches.

Both boys and girls, mostly around ten or eleven, some seven or eight; dressed differently—some filthy, some in coarse farmer’s cloth, others plump and pale, clearly from wealthy families.

Jiang Ding sat cross-legged in the shade of a hundred-meter-tall tree; his blue robe had somehow transformed into leafy camouflage, perfectly blending with the shadows.

“Sir, my father has money—please spare me!”

“Mother!”

Long San scanned the clerks and said: “The Guild is weak in Dongling Prefecture. I don’t know if any of you brothers have been bought. I’ll say this one thing.”

…

Jiang Ding nodded, tapped his toe lightly, leapt several zhang, landed on a tree branch, then leapt again and vanished into the forest.

Of the four drones in the sky, one remained hovering overhead for surveillance; the other three flew off in separate directions.

“Good.”

Jiang Ding shook his head, closed his eyes to rest, and said nothing more.

Scenes flashed across his Yinxing glasses—mostly pitch-black, the wild forest dominating the night.

Lu Hou lifted his eyelids slightly: “You’ve lived in Dongling too long—you don’t understand the Four Seas Guild’s power. They hold sway nationwide, but simply can’t spare more men right now, and they fear the uncertain stance of the Marquis of Zhendong.”

The “Young Eagle Soaring Sword Art” had reached its peak—cultivation possible while walking, sitting, lying, or standing.

A faint orange glow stood out sharply in the night.

Long San lowered his voice after a long silence.

“The Four Seas Guild has accepted it. I, this half-disabled man, have not.” Long San said gravely: “Young Master, if you have any hidden plans, now is the time to reveal them.”

“It’s like…”

“Those beggars… were brought here.”

But he knew this was self-deception—Lanban Street had none, but other places had plenty.

He could only comfort himself with the thought: “When poor, cultivate oneself.”

“I’m not wrong—I am weak. How could I possibly save the world?”

Jiang Ding leapt down from the branch, stepping lightly on tree limbs, using his toes to push off silently, closing in on the distant stronghold’s cliff: “But since I’ve encountered this, I’ll allow myself a little indulgence.”

(End of Chapter)