Chapter 122: Golden Knife Martial School, Ghost Market

Moments later, Qi Lianyong and the others sat down in the parlor.

The two intruders had been left outside the front courtyard, where fine snow drifted down, covering their hair.

They were dressed thickly enough that they wouldn’t freeze solid anytime soon.

Chu Tianshu placed the cat on the table, washed his hands, found paper cups, dropped in some tea leaves, and filled them with hot water from the dispenser for everyone.

The few people Qi Lianyong brought—two men and three women—ranged from their early thirties down to just over twenty.

Each carried an air of sharpness; not only were they skilled fighters, but they’d clearly seen action, their hands stained with blood.

Yet when they looked at the cat, their expressions softened unconsciously.

The short-haired woman in her early twenties even pulled out a bag of cookies to feed the cat.

“Little White Teacher, I told you not to wander outside school—how did you get kidnapped all the way out here? Are you scared now?”

Chu Tianshu handed her the tea; she took it and hurriedly said, “Thank you.”

“So you’re the cat’s owners.”

Chu Tianshu turned to Qi Lianyong. “Master Qi, this cat can fight.”

Qi Lianyong laughed. “Of course—that’s why we call him Little White Teacher.”

“This cat was left behind by a former headmaster of our Golden Knife Martial School.”

“The headmaster had no children; he named the cat Bai Mei. In 1996, during a crackdown on organized crime, he died in the line of duty, leaving only this cat behind.”

“The school kept caring for him. After 2000, everyone noticed he’d grown increasingly human-like—he’d learned the headmaster’s favorite skill, the Bone-Shortening and Sinew-Dislocating Art, could alter his body shape, and even learned to fight with deep mastery.”

Qi Lianyong blew away the tea leaves and took a sip.

“New students all loved watching him fight. It was teaching through enjoyment—many began calling him Teacher.”

Golden Knife Martial School?

Chu Tianshu recalled he’d heard the name before.

In the Jianghuai region, the Xuanxue Association had three most prominent organizations in the last century.

Golden Knife Martial School was one of them.

They operated branch campuses like vocational schools, selecting promising students and teaching them deeper martial arts, granting diplomas equivalent to junior college.

Graduates were mostly assigned jobs—it was a semi-official organization.

Chu Tianshu said, “Master Qi, aren’t you the owner of your own boxing gym? When did you join the martial school?”

“Running my own gym isn’t bad, but joining the school opens up far greater horizons for me.”

Qi Lianyong sighed. “My gym never struggled for income, but I could only take so many students—and never found one who surpassed me.”

“At least someone should match my progress at the same age—but no one did.”

“Back then, the school approached me several times. I thought: first, the benefits and status were good; second, teaching there made it easier to find a worthy successor.”

“I’ve been there for several years now.”

Chu Tianshu’s heart stirred: “Golden Knife Martial School—do they have many experts?”

“What counts as an expert?”

Qi Lianyong smiled. “Those who’ve opened their dantian are experts among ordinary people—there are dozens like that at the main campus. But even among them, I can still call myself an expert. It’s all relative, just self-satisfaction.”

“But our principal is universally recognized as an expert nationwide.”

“He doesn’t just know martial arts—he can blend perfumes, prepare medicines, tailor clothes, design gardens, craft musical instruments, and sometimes even substitute for math and science teachers.”

Qi Lianyong pulled a small box from his pocket, pressed a button with his thumb, and the lid flipped open.

Inside was a blue insect.

Chu Tianshu didn’t know its name—it resembled a mantis but lacked the famous front claws.

“This is Qingyan Insect. It’s drawn to fragrant smoke and usually clings to incense burners with openwork designs.”

Qi Lianyong explained. “Little White Teacher always wanders around the principal’s office, picking up the scents he blends. We use this insect’s extraordinary sense of smell to track him down.”

“Otherwise, these thieves—seemingly just passing through and taking a random shot—were strangers. We might never have found a lead.”

Chu Tianshu studied the insect. It carried no aura of magic.

Clearly, it was a naturally gifted creature, trained through the handler’s advanced knowledge of pharmacology.

That wasn’t strange—today’s medicine had labs capable of editing biological genes.

It wasn’t magic, but to those unaware, its effect was indistinguishable from it.

“These two thieves are ruthless. One’s a boxer, the other practices magic—both are strong.”

Chu Tianshu said, “I originally planned to cripple them, interrogate them, and hand them over to the Public Security Office.”

“Since you’re here, I’ll hand them over to you. I’ve heard Golden Knife Martial School teachers are licensed—they can liaise directly with provincial authorities when needed. You’re a safer choice.”

Qi Lianyong nodded.

At that moment, the short-haired woman turned around.

“Little White Teacher says he escaped from a truck on the highway. There were four people on board—two drivers, two guards. These two are the cargo guards.”

Chu Tianshu looked at Bai Mei the cat.

The cat hadn’t even meowed—just gestured slightly, nodded or shook its head. Could he really understand that?

Bai Mei noticed his gaze, let out a long, drawn-out “meow.”

The short-haired woman stared at Chu Tianshu in surprise. “Little White Teacher is very fond of Mr. Chu.”

Chu Tianshu chuckled.

After shrinking his bones and reshaping his body, his voice should’ve been rough and aged—now he’s pretending to be cute.

“Cargo guards?”

Qi Lianyong stood up. “What kind of cargo? Living, dead, or artifacts?”

Bai Mei shook his head twice, then nodded once.

“Artifacts? Magical artifacts? Many?”

Qi Lianyong’s expression turned grave. “Could this be a gang supplying the Daoist Ghost Market?”

Chu Tianshu’s expression shifted slightly at the words.

Every trade had its Ghost Market—or Black Market—a secret place for illicit goods.

But the Daoist Ghost Market was the bloodiest, cruelest kind.

His grandfather said the last century’s Ghost Markets were filled with dark magical artifacts.

Tomb robbing, forced seizures, theft and robbery—those were relatively restrained.

The truly bloodiest were newly forged dark artifacts.

Human trafficking via the Beast-Transformation Spell, organ trade through mind manipulation…

Many things ended up in the Daoist Ghost Market.

In the last two or three decades of the last century, multiple operations—bordering on battles—were launched to eradicate the Ghost Market.

Chu Tianshu’s grandfather lost his edge not just from age, but from witnessing several of those Ghost Market battles.

The old man despised these dark heresies with all his heart.

But as a physician, he could only serve in logistics.

The few combat techniques derived from medicine, plus his scattered odd skills, were utterly unfit for such heart-stopping battles.

Everyone knew he was more valuable in logistics—he stopped short, unwillingly.

It became a cherished, unforgettable memory—and left him unable to advance further in his later years.

“Even if Daoist Ghost Markets still exist now, their scale must be far smaller than before.”

Chu Tianshu’s eyes held a distant look; after a moment, he snapped back and turned to the two men.

Qi Lianyong strode over, flipped the burly man with the scar across his nose, and pressed his face into the snow.

Qi Lianyong gripped the man’s arms, pulling them backward like wings spread wide.

Instantly, the man’s eyes flew open, bloodshot, his throat emitting a sharp, rhythmic “clack-clack-clack” like a falcon pecking stone.

Veins surged up his neck to his face, his head arched high, his entire face flushed red with agony.

Chu Tianshu saw Qi Lianyong’s hands trembling continuously, making tiny, shifting twists.

The force rippled through the man’s body, causing muscles to twitch and contort in multiple places.

“This is my Eagle Claw Flip Fist’s Sinew-Dislocating Technique. I just learned it these past few years—only four-tenths mastery—but enough to make you taste every flavor of pain: sour, sweet, bitter, spicy, salty—all at once.”

Qi Lianyong said. “Even the toughest men can’t endure this technique.”

The man’s face no longer bore the cruel, ruthless expression he’d shown when he first attacked Chu Tianshu with three copper-coin green flames.

Tears rolled from his eyes, snot and saliva dripped down, his head and face trembled violently—but he couldn’t speak.

Qi Lianyong held him for three more seconds before releasing his right hand.

The man gasped desperately for air.

Before he could catch his breath, Qi Lianyong seized his right hand again.

“Tell me: where were you taking our cat? Why did you attack the homeowner immediately? How many accomplices do you have?”

“Answer truthfully, and I’ll stop. Otherwise…”

The man weakly gasped: “No, no—I’ll tell you everything.”

He’d used cruel magical artifacts on others without hesitation—but couldn’t bear even a fraction of the pain himself.

He spilled everything like beans from a bamboo tube.

They’d indeed stolen a whole truckload of goods—mostly artifacts looted from tombs in the interior—intended for smuggling to the coast for the Ghost Market.

They made the trip once a year. This year, on the road, they’d accidentally discovered Bai Mei, a cat with extraordinary human-like intelligence. They knew such a creature, alive, could fetch a fortune at the Ghost Market.

So they secretly captured the cat and left.

Originally, these people had planned perfectly: the truck would drive straight onto the highway and head for the coast to await smuggling.

Who knew that due to the cold disaster, they had been stuck in traffic on the highway repeatedly over the past two days.

This most recent time, they had been stuck for over half a day, trapped in the middle of the traffic flow, unable to move forward or backward.

That stretch of highway rose two or three meters higher than the ground on either side, and the guardrails were sturdy.

There was no way to find a route off the highway.

The two men assigned to guard the cargo container, unable to bear the stifling boredom, stepped down to get some air.

Bai Mei Mao seized this opportunity and escaped from its cage.

They knew this cat was intelligent; it wasn’t just the cat’s escape that mattered—what terrified them was that it might reveal the contents of the container, bringing great trouble.

Therefore, as soon as Chu Tianshu claimed the cat belonged to a relative, the big man immediately wanted to kill him.

As for their gang, there were five core members, four of whom were responsible for guarding the cargo.

The boss followed a mysterious style: he never joined them in any activities except tomb raiding, yet he knew exactly how much cargo they sold and how much money they should deposit.

“A major case!”

Qi Lianyong grunted, “Tomb raiding, smuggling, selling treasures overseas, and you’ve got murders on your hands too.”

“Perfect. Taking you all in, I can already see a batch of banners and bonuses waving at me!”

(End of Chapter)