Chapter 278: Revisiting Old Grounds

Roasted sweet potato, fragrant roasted sweet potato.

Steamed bun, steamed bun, freshly baked steamed bun.

Eight Treasure Porridge, sweet and tasty Eight Treasure Porridge.

Along both sides of the street, the hawkers' cries rose and fell.

A middle‑aged man with a tangled beard and a weather‑worn face walked slowly.

"Compared to when I left, not much has changed here,"

The middle‑aged man surveyed the surroundings, his gaze a bit complicated.

Indeed, he is Jiang Cheng after disguise.

After becoming a Level One Spiritual Thought Master, he spent a few more days cultivating the Cloud‑Piercing Technique to the Great Achievement Realm; his physique, strength, and speed all met the standards of a Level 7 Original Force Warrior.

Physical defense, except for vital spots like the head or heart, even if hit by a 20mm Machine Cannon, would not be a big deal.

Maximum punch force is ten tons; the energy of a single punch is comparable to a 25mm Machine Cannon projectile just leaving the barrel. Even at Level 7, a solid punch against an opponent of the same level can cause, at best, serious injury, and at worst, death.

Top speed reaches sixty meters per second; he can easily leap several meters high—just a light hop over an ordinary residential fence, and can jump down from twenty meters.

In addition, the Shadowless Blade Technique has also reached the Entry Realm.

Therefore, at this moment Jiang Cheng can fully unleash the combat power of a Level 7 Original Force Warrior.

So, he has come.

But he did not immediately draw his blade; instead, he left it in the car and came here to gather information.

After all, counting the time, he has been away from here for over two months.

"Roasted sausage, tasty roasted sausage, cheap sale,"

At that moment, a somewhat familiar voice rang out, then was swallowed again by the other hawkers' cries.

"Roasted sausage! Tasty roasted sausage!"

On the right‑hand street, Lu Zicheng was shouting energetically.

Seeing a middle‑aged man walking straight toward him,

his face brightened instantly, and he shouted even more vigorously.

Jiang Cheng walked straight up to him.

"Brother, would you like some roasted sausage?" Lu Zicheng pounded his chest, "Don't think that just because there are several roasted‑sausage stalls on this street, their skill is comparable to mine; they fall far short."

Jiang Cheng saw him like that and smiled inwardly.

He had originally intended to find someone to ask about what had happened after he left.

Finding Shi Yan seemed a good choice.

But doing so would, on the one hand, easily expose his true identity; he believed Shi Yan would not betray him, yet few can endure torture. On the other hand, going there in broad daylight could also bring trouble to the other party.

Thus, asking the old acquaintance Lu Zicheng for information turned out to be a decent option.

Listening to the latter still bragging energetically, Jiang Cheng could no longer bear it and said, "How much do you charge for your roasted sausage?"

"Three coins per stick, ten coins for four sticks; the more you buy, the bigger the discount!" Lu Zicheng said with a grin.

"Then give me one stick first,"

Jiang Cheng said.

To be honest, after staying in the Poor District for over a month, he really hadn't tasted Lu Zicheng's craft.

"Alright,"

Lu Zicheng was a little disappointed, but what can you say—selling even a single stick is better than selling none; he quickly produced a golden‑brown starch sausage and handed it to Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng took a bite; the taste was so‑so.

Then, casually, he asked, "Little brother, how much do you have to pay each month to set up a stall here?"

Hearing that, Lu Zicheng's smile froze, and he held up two fingers.

"Two thousand a month?"

Jiang Cheng was a bit surprised; he remembered the stall fee was around two‑thousand‑five when he left.

Could the Iron Fist Gang have shown generosity?

"Yes, it used to be about two‑thousand‑five; many people couldn't afford a month after paying, so those above lowered the price a bit to two thousand."

Lu Zicheng said, his tone lacking any hint of joy or gratitude.

Jiang Cheng suddenly understood. He thought those people wouldn't be so kind.

So the scythe was too ruthless, cutting even the chives at the root.

"Even if you cut five hundred, selling your roasted sausage at three coins each, reaching two thousand a month shouldn't be that hard, right?"

"It's not that easy,"

Lu Zicheng suddenly opened the floodgates of conversation.

"The stall fee was lowered a bit, but the monthly management fee stayed the same at fifteen hundred; these past couple of days I even heard rumors that next month the management fee will rise, maybe to eighteen hundred a month."

"What a fellow,"

Jiang Cheng let out a sigh in his heart.

The Iron Fist Gang is far harsher than the Wild Wolf Gang.

Only a few months in, and the management fee is about to double?

"Actually, even so we could survive, but every night the thugs in the alleys rob us of our money; sometimes the hard‑earned earnings of a whole day are handed over to them."

Jiang Cheng, hearing this, felt it was all too familiar and couldn't help asking, "Do some of those thugs have any background?"

"How did you know?"

Lu Zicheng's eyes widened.

"The place I live is the same,"

Jiang Cheng let out a light sigh.

"Yeah."

Lu Zicheng heard that and nodded.

It's the same not only here but everywhere else.

Seeing Jiang Cheng finish the roasted sausage in his hand, he immediately asked, "Brother, want another one? I can give you a discount—two for five yuan."

"No."

Jiang Cheng shook his head, looked around, and said, "I heard there's someone here who roasts Roasted Sweet Potato really well; I'll go buy a few later to fill my stomach."

As the words fell, Lu Zicheng's hand trembled.

Then he gave a wry smile and said, "No need to go; that person has already left."

"Left? Where did he go?"

Jiang Cheng deliberately pretended not to know?

"I don't know where he went either, but…"

Lu Zicheng glanced at the roasted sausage on the grill.

The meaning was self‑evident.

Jiang Cheng was at a loss, both laughing and crying.

This kid is still a mischievous monkey spirit.

"Alright, I'll buy a few more, but first you tell me the whole story clearly."

While speaking, Jiang Cheng handed over a 100 yuan banknote.

Lu Zicheng's eyes widened instantly.

He almost wished he could sell all the roasted sausages on the grill to the person before him.

Yet he also knew that one must know when to quit while ahead.

After all, everyone on this street knows about Jiang Cheng; even now, many still discuss it over tea and meals.

As for the reason.

It's just idle boredom.

But more than that, his deeds are so astonishing they're beyond belief.

Who could have imagined that someone who, like them, makes a living by setting up stalls, is secretly a master who has slaughtered the Wild Wolf Gang and Iron Fist Gang, leaving rivers of blood?

"Alright, brother, I'll tell you now. By the way, brother, how many roasted sausages do you want? How about ten? Even if you can't finish them yourself, you can take them home for your family to try; I guarantee they'll love them."

(End of chapter)