Chapter 20

Li Ping'an slept so soundly his snoring shook the beams and even buzzed the window paper. Sunlight climbed the eaves, bright shafts slanting into the room, and only then did the noise outside of a boiling pot wake him.

Oh my goodness! Terrible! The city's sealed again!

Good heavens! Something huge has happened over at West Station!

Indeed! Early this morning the sirens wailed like summoning souls, and the streets are full of Black Dogs!

In the courtyard a pot boiled over, beasts crowded in, necks stretched, spittle could drown a person. Jia Zhangshi's cracked voice was loudest: "Surely the Eighth Route did it! They've eaten bear hearts and leopard galls!" Yan Bu Gui leaned on his broken-leg glasses, muttering: "Sinister… this affair reeks of sinister…"

Li Ping'an rubbed his eyes, shuffled out in torn cloth shoes, looking half-asleep, and deliberately drew out a long yawn.

"Yo, Ping'an!" Yan Bu Gui's beady eyes hooked onto him, "Did the sun drag you out of bed today? No outing?"

Li Ping'an rubbed his face, his voice thick like starch: "I'm worn out, my bones feel misjointed. I need to catch my breath— at my age I still need a break." He cocked an ear to the eerie whistles outside, a bewildered look on his face: "What's this now? Outside it's like a boiling pot— have the Japanese sealed the city again? What trouble did they stir up?"

That question lit the firecracker's fuse.

Oh dear! You're still in the dark? Jia Zhangshi slapped her thigh, her plump face alight with excitement at the spectacle, "West Station! The Japanese hid their Gold Mountain Silver Mountain there! They've even taken the cooking pots!"

They say the warehouse was cleaned out spotless— even a mouse would have to wipe its eyes! Someone chimed in.

Not to mention! The ground was littered with Japanese soldiers, their throats slit wide open, blood spurting! Another described it vividly, as if he'd seen it himself.

The weird part is, we didn't hear a peep! You say it's divine or not? Yi Zhonghai held his teacup, brows knotted like a twisted rope.

Li Ping'an timely widened his eyes, mouth open enough to fit an egg, his face full of the shock and unstoppable glee a commoner feels hearing a tall tale: "Wow! Really… really emptied out? And… people died? My dear mother! Which divine being descended? So satisfying!"

Divine? Jia Zhangshi pursed her lips, her Sanjiao Yan rolled to heaven, "More like a Sangmen Star! Stabbing such a huge hole, will the Japanese ever quiet down? We can't even hope for peace now!"

Li Ping'an shrank his neck, as if frightened by those words, muttering "yes yes yes", he hurriedly turned and ducked back inside, before closing the door he tossed out: "Um… better boil some Bangzi noodle porridge to tide over…"

The door shut, the clamor outside cut off instantly. Li Ping'an's timid air vanished in an instant, his eyes sharpening, a icy smirk tugging at his lips. Success! The news of the emptied warehouse exploded everywhere!

West Station warehouse, cold as a giant ice cellar. The heavy iron door stood wide open, inside empty enough to run a circus. The Japanese soldiers lay sprawled on the ground, already stiff, neck wounds varied, congealed black blood giving off a putrid stench mixed with a lingering sweet cloy.

Gangcun Ningci stood in the warehouse's center, his short stocky frame rigid as raw iron. He wore snow-white gloves, leaned on his sword, his face black enough to wring ink. His narrow eyes swept over the empty hall that could hold a circus, over the corpses of his subordinates on the ground, and finally rested on the inspection report just handed to him. His fingers gripping the paper whitened from strain, trembling slightly.

Damn! A beast-like roar exploded! It shook dust from the ceiling in puffs. Gangcun Ningci's forehead veins bulged, his eyes red as if about to bleed, like a wolf stabbed in its den. Utter disgrace! This was nothing less than the loudest slap to his face! Under his very nose, in his ironclad warehouse, they'd looted his stores and even killed his dog!

Worthless! A bunch of good-for-nothings! He spun around, his gaze like a poisoned blade, gouging into the officers behind him who dared not breathe and the plain-clothed Special High Section Head Sanben Yilang. "Seal off Four Nine City! In only, none out! Not a mosquito may escape! Search! Dig three feet deep—I want that rat dragged out!"

The alarm wailed again, tearing the sky over Beiping, crazier and more desperate than before. The whole city was flung into a pressure cooker; Black Dogs and Japanese soldiers poured out, like rabid dogs with red eyes, lunging at every alley and every door. Pounding doors, curses, and wails stirred into a pot of boiling hot mush.

Special High Section Head Sanben Yilang, a knife-edged face cold enough to scrape frost, eyes like a hawk. Here he suppressed the turmoil in his chest, standing in Gangcun Ningci's suffocating office to report. The air hung heavy enough to crush a person.

Commander (Honorable), Sanben Yilang's voice cold and hard like a lump of ice, "On-site confirmation: first, the air was laced with a potent incapacitating drug; the guards collapsed almost instantly, offering no resistance. Second, the corpses bore wounds of all kinds—some from sharp blades, some from blunt saws, some from shards of broken iron—purely meant to sow chaos. Third, the warehouse showed no signs of forced entry; the goods… seemed to have vanished into thin air." He set a thicker report gently on Gangcun Ningci's icy desk.

Gangcun Ningci didn't look at the report, his snake‑like eyes locked on Sanben Yilang: "Sanben, tell me—are those mountain bumpkins the Eighth Route? Or… the rats in the gutters scheming 'salvation through devious means'?"

Sanben Yilang bowed slightly, laying out his analysis clearly: "The Eighth Route lacks the skill to reach the Imperial Army's heart, nor the ability to silently empty the Gold Mountain Silver Mountain. Their meager strength is spent wandering mountain gullies. As for the Fruit Party," he paused, "their Military Statistics and Central Statistics rats infest the city, they're the best at this dirty work of drugging and sowing chaos, and they covet the Imperial Army's riches most. This strike was swift, precise, brutal—and they deliberately muddied the waters, that's their MO! Most importantly, to make so many treasures vanish into thin air requires a far‑reaching dark web; the Eighth Route couldn't even dream of matching that."

Fruit Party… Gangcun Ningci chewed the two words, a cold glint flashing in his eyes. He snapped his gaze up, voice like an ice pick: "How long? To root out these rats?"

Sanben Yilang's forehead beaded with fine cold sweat, he forced himself to estimate: "Your Excellency… I, your humble servant, need one month, I will surely…"

One month? Gangcun Ningci brutally cut him off, slamming his palm on the desk with a bang that made the teacup jump, "Too long! I give you only half a month! In half a month I want to see those rats' heads! I want to see my stuff!"

Sanben Yilang's heart gave a sudden thud and sank to the bottom. Half a month? Chasing ghosts in a headless‑chicken‑like city?

Commander (Honorable)! Sanben Yilang snapped to attention, voice fierce with resolve, "I, your humble servant, need only half a month! Within half a month I will surely give you an answer!"

Half a month? Gangcun Ningci narrowed his eyes into a snake‑like slit, the crease at the corner of his mouth like a knife carve, his voice soft as a serpent's hiss: "All right. Sanben, remember your words. In half a month, if it sinks without a trace…" He paused, each word like forged ice, "You and I both owe an explanation to His Majesty the Emperor. I will sharpen the blade for you."

A chill shot instantly from Sanben Yilang's soles to the crown of his head! His back went rigid as steel, his nails dug deep into his palms: "Hey! I, your humble servant, understand! I won't let you down!" He bowed low, turned and strode away, his shirt already soaked with cold sweat. Half a month—either deliver results or forfeit his life!

Stepping out of Command Headquarters, Sanben Yilang's face twisted completely, like a dog backed into a corner. "Damn! Investigate! Dig deep! Mouse holes all three times over! Especially the Fruit Party's Security Bureau nest! Grab! Anyone showing a shadow, I want them caught! If they won't talk, smash their teeth!" The Special High Section's mad dog, eyes blood‑red, lunged at every dark corner of Beiping City. In an instant, wails and false imprisonments sprang up.

Li Ping'an squatted before the little earthen stove in the East Wing Room, slowly stirring the bubbling Bangzi noodle porridge in the crock. Golden corn kernels rolled in the thick broth, giving off a wholesome coarse‑grain flavor. Outside, the beasts' chatter about whether it was a divine being or a Sangmen Star seeped through the door crack.

He scooped a spoonful of thick porridge, blew on the heat, and sucked it down. The coarse corn scraped his throat, settled in his stomach, feeling solid. His face showed no expression, but his heart smirked.

The Special High Section's mad dog indeed lunged at the Fruit Party? Excellent! The water's muddy enough. But still not loud enough! Sanben Yilang this serpent still has half a month to writhe? Too long!

His hand steady on the stirring spoon, as if welded fast. A crazier, more perilous thought rose cold in his heart, like a serpent coiling on a dead tree of revenge.

Gangcun Ningci… Sanben Yilang…

Sharpening the blade doesn't delay the woodcutting.

Once this bowl of porridge is down, it's time to whet another blade. The tip must be aimed at the heart of the Demon Cave.