Chapter 161

The wind by the water is strong.

The wind, carrying the dampness of the river, struck his face—bitingly cold, yet moist. Sit too long, and the whole body felt sodden; his clothes were soaked through.

Chen Guanlou drank his wine and invited the Daoist to take a sip.

The Daoist waved his hand. "Thank you for your kindness, young friend. But the matter is not yet settled—this is not the time for wine."

Chen Guanlou smiled at this. "What matter is it, Daoist? Might I be of any help?"

"You truly can help."

"How?"

"I wish to borrow your head. Do you agree?"

"Hahaha…"

Chen Guanlou burst into laughter. "I never thought my head would be so coveted—it's practically a rare treasure. Why leave the mountains to seek the Dao and eternal life, and instead descend into the muddy affairs of the mortal world? Even if the Dao Ancestor never had a golden statue cast in his honor, I doubt he'd blame you."

"Wu Liang Shou Fu! Your words hold wisdom. Yet I once swore before the Dao Ancestor to cast a golden statue for him. Moreover, long ago I owed a great debt of gratitude—I've now reached the time to repay it. Please do not make it hard for me. Let me take your head and settle this debt. On the day the golden statue is completed, I shall erect a spirit tablet in your name and offer incense in your honor."

Chen Guanlou's face twisted with mockery. "You make this so difficult for me. What am I to do?"

"It's simple. Sit still, and I'll take your head with practiced ease—you won't feel a thing."

"Were you once a butcher, Daoist?" Chen Guanlou asked, feigning curiosity.

To his surprise, the Daoist nodded. "I wasn't a proper butcher, but not far from it. I once served in the military—that life was hard, always half-cooked meals. Fortunately, I met two benefactors. The first is gone. The second saved my life, gave me a new one. Tell me—should such a debt not be repaid?"

"It must be repaid! Absolutely! If you value gratitude so much, why not repay it with your own head? That would show true sincerity. And if you fear your head won't reach your benefactor, don't worry—I'll deliver it for you."

Chen Guanlou's suggestion was genuine—a practical solution. Far more sensible than the Daoist's plan to take someone else's head.

The Daoist shook his head regretfully. "Alas, my own head is worthless. But yours? A thousand taels of gold. Very expensive."

Chen Guanlou laughed. "So after all this, even as a Daoist, you haven't shed your soldier's bloodlust. You're no true Daoist—you shouldn't be fishing here. Return to the barracks. Go back to your old trade."

Good thing—Jinzhou is at war. Enlist. You'll start as a petty officer at least. With your skills, you'll rise in rank and wealth within a year.

I hear the rebels in Jinzhou have vast treasure—plundered the entire region. In just a year, you'll seize far more than a thousand taels of gold. Enough to cast ten or eight golden statues for the Dao Ancestor—with plenty left over!"

The Daoist gazed at the rushing river. "Your advice is sound. But long ago, I swore never again to eat the half-cooked rice of military life. Now, only by taking your head can I cast the golden statue for the Dao Ancestor. I beg you, grant me this."

Chen Guanlou sighed repeatedly, expressing deep regret. "Why cling so stubbornly? Don't you fear losing your life?"

"Since I came of age, countless men have sought my head. Yet here I am, still fishing by the river. Tell me, young friend—how good are your skills? Are they as boastful as they sound?"

Chen Guanlou laughed. "Daoist, the boat's here. I must go."

"Why must you make this hard for me? Wu Liang Shou Fu! I now borrow your head!"

As the words ended!

The blade flashed!

All was done. The boat drifted down the river.

The corpse floated past the hull. The boatman gasped. "The world grows ever more violent. Who could be so cruel as to kill even a Daoist?"

"Poor Daoist, ending up as fish food," Chen Guanlou said, shouldering his great blade as he stepped into the cabin. "If you pity the Daoist, take the body ashore and bury it."

"No, no. Those who die in the river belong to the fish—that's Heaven's justice. I'm but a humble boatman—I dare not interfere in life and death."

"Fair enough."

The boat reached shore.

Chen Guanlou paid the fare, turned, and said to the boatman, "Thank you for your trouble."

"No trouble at all, sir. Safe travels."

Chen Guanlou waved goodbye. Behind him, as if he had eyes in his back, a flying dart shot toward him—then halted midair, reversed course, and plunged deep into the boatman's neck.

The boatman clutched his throat, dying without ever understanding how it happened.

Thud!

The corpse collapsed onto the deck. The boat, carried by the current, drifted. A wave crashed over it—capsized, sank—and vanished without a trace.

Along the way, Chen Guanlou changed his appearance several times, finally shaking off those tailing him.

He traveled through famous mountains and great rivers, seeking so-called martial masters—yet in truth, he was inquiring about the origins of Wanfeng Mountain. As the old Hu patriarch had said, most had never heard of Wanfeng Mountain; those who had knew only fragments.

It was an extremely secretive sect, appearing only rarely in the Jianghu.

With the year-end accounts closing soon, Chen Guanlou had no choice but to abandon his inquiries and hurry back to Jingcheng.

After a day's rest, he returned to work.

The two Fan officials were pleased to see him return on time.

Especially the younger Fan official, who had recently become close with Chen Guanxin. Chen Guanxin had no other talents, but he knew every den of vice in the capital—drinking, gambling, brothels.

With him as guide, the younger Fan official had truly broadened his horizons.

The younger Fan official decreed: given Chen Guanxin's excellent performance, he need not report to the Heavenly Prison daily—but his share of the profits must be paid in full. He must still occupy a slot.

Xiao Jin, a seasoned veteran, didn't want trouble, so he goaded Qian Fugui to file a complaint.

Qian Fugui hesitated, mouth half-open, words unspoken.

Chen Guanlou raised an eyebrow. "Speak. Didn't I tell you before—no need to be so cautious with me. I'm not petty or vengeful. After all this time, have you ever seen me retaliate against anyone?"

Shi Bantou was Bufu!

Qian Fugui forced a nervous laugh. "It's like this—while you were away, Li Xin didn't just flatter the younger Fan official. He's been courting the imprisoned officials, claiming he has connections to help them trade. He seems to be trying to steal your business."

Chen Guanlou was genuinely surprised. "Has he made any deals?"

There's not enough time—no imprisoned official trusts him yet. But sooner or later, one will come to him with antiques or calligraphy. Chen Tou, shouldn't we guard against this? Li Xin is a newcomer—he has no sense of proper conduct.

"I understand. Go. I'll handle it."