Chapter 163: New Services

In the main hall on the third floor of Wuxian Temple, Beggar Sect Group Head Zhou Tong sat high in the seat of honor, looking down at a written confession.

Fort Master Zhou's appearance hadn't changed much — still that purplish-red square face, two thick brows, and a short beard on his chin. Compared to when Cao Chuan first crossed over, this first Ming person to speak with Cao Chuan now only had slightly deeper wrinkles on his face.

Standing below in the hall at this moment were several fierce-looking members of the "Protector Squad," dressed in black and gripping sharp blades — most of them were former bandits from Pingfeng Stronghold in the early years.

"Have they all confessed? Any omissions?"

"Reporting to the Sect Leader, they confessed. In total, seven people heard Wu Di's reckless talk."

Zhou Tong nodded as he listened, his finger tapping names on the confession on the table: "Mm, the boatman Liu Jiaoer passed the Moyun Temple talk to Wu Di, and Wu Di then told it to people in this hall..."

"Looks like we'll have to keep a close watch on the people on that boat from now on! What's this Liu Jiaoer's background?" Zhou Tong asked, looking up.

"Reporting to the Sect Leader, just a local boatman, an ordinary family."

"An ordinary family and he still dares to run his mouth like that? Truly tired of living. Grab him, give him a few pulls on the leg press, ask who else he told, then arrange a drowning afterward. Make the compensation silver to his family generous."

"Yes!"

"What about Wu Di?"

"His legs were crushed useless."

"Bury him."

"Yes!"

"Also," Zhou Tong continued, "from now on, only our own people are allowed on the boats. Round up all those in Hall Seven who heard the 'reckless talk' — this batch from Hall Seven gets sent off first."

"Yes!"

The official business was quickly handled.

After the several black-clad enforcers left, Zhou Tong stepped down from the dais, swept aside his gray robe, and bent to sit on the armchair below. Across from him sat a short, plump, smiling monk in a blue robe.

"We can never root them all out." Zhou Tong sat down and said with a bitter smile.

"It's already not bad." The monk rubbed his bald head while speaking in a strange language: "Back then we couldn't manage it, so we had to ship them out by hall. Now we can trace it to individuals — this shows the overall pressure is easing. That's a good thing."

Zhou Tong could be considered the Ming person who had the earliest and most contact with transmigrators; by now he could basically understand this grammatically bizarre "Kunlun Speech" the transmigrators used, which was also peppered with strange words.

"It's just that the income has shrunk." Zhou Tong nodded. "Lately it's been declining day by day. The dues handed up by each hall and branch are less month by month."

"Heh heh, we have to look at that dialectically." The transmigrator, Hangzhou Station Chief, Lu Cheng the Great Master, now sat with his belly exposed and patiently explained: "Lower monthly dues just mean refugees from the surrounding countryside have replaced those old beggars with skills. That's a good thing — the fewer people who know our secrets, the better."

Lu Cheng thought for a moment, then added: "Silver is always a secondary issue. If we can't sustain it, Tangzhuang will naturally provide subsidies. Hmm, looking at it now, we've basically won this major campaign of the Cage Replacement Bird Swap. It wasn't easy! Sect Leader Zhou, you've worked hard!"

"Heh heh. I dare not, I dare not. It's all thanks to Great Master Lu's guidance."

After a few lines of mutual flattery, Lu Cheng pulled a phone from his bosom. While entering the password, he said: "Weren't there two follow-up plans back then? The ones we discussed together. I think the time is ripe — let's get them going quickly."

Zhou Tong knew that Lu Cheng had all kinds of "Message Boxes" — these immortal realm treasures could transmit voices across a thousand li, and some could serve as writing tablets. Seeing Lu Cheng hand the box over now, Zhou Tong hurriedly received it with both hands. The fashionable Sect Leader Zhou began expertly flipping through the phone files, reviewing those plans written in simplified characters.

Three days later.

Hefang Street Entrance.

Hefang Street lay at the foot of Wu Mountain and was a main thoroughfare of Qinghe Ward. Due to its excellent location, this street had been a commercial strip through every dynasty, and later generations were no exception.

Comrade Hu Zhengqi, unseen for a long time, now stood beneath the stone memorial arch at the entrance of Hefang Street, grinning as he smoothed his two wisps of rat-like whiskers.

Ever since that day he had defected to the light, this short, fat, rat-faced Hu Zhengqi had soared steadily upward, making a magnificent turn from a bottom-level Beggar Sect thug all the way to the position of Adviser in the Head Hall.

On ordinary days, this fellow was responsible for various liaison duties — connecting inside and outside, relaying orders from above and reports from below. Now, having received secret instructions directly from the Sect Leader, Hu Zhengqi had come to this Hefang Street to carry out a big deal.

Hu Zhengqi, bringing along a companion named Ping Laosan, had not been under the archway long before five or six prominent figures from the local hall branch rushed over upon hearing the news: "Adviser Hu, Master Hu" — a flurry of greetings.

Ever since Zhou Tong took control of the Beggar Sect, all the chaotic territories of varying sizes and their old names had been abolished. In their place were newly planned hall branches organized by ward. With Hu Zhengqi coming to Hefang Street today, those coming out to receive him were naturally the Hall Master of Qinghe Hall and several subordinate Incense Masters responsible for designated areas.

Qinghe Hall's internal code within the Beggar Sect was Hall Three, so when Hu Zhengqi saw the people arriving, he opened his mouth and asked: "Are all the gentlemen of Hall Three present?"

"Just us few, all here, Adviser."

"Good. You all know the assignment sent down by the Head Hall?"

"We know, we know!"

"Mm. I'll go door to door to negotiate. You lot have the Ground Flat Snakes ready. If anyone is blind to reason, act on my signal!"

"Master Hu, rest assured, everything is prepared!"

"Mm. Which one is the accountant? Come with me." As Hu Zhengqi spoke, he lifted his foot and walked toward Hefang Street, his companion and an accountant from Qinghe Hall hurrying behind him.

The three had not walked more than a few steps before they were at the entrance of Hefang Street.

The long street was now bustling with a steady stream of people. Food stalls, peddlers, sugar-candy carriers, fortune-teller booths, barber stands, and variety performers lined the street — cries of hawkers rose and fell in a clamorous, lively din.

Hu Zhengqi's group, however, bypassed the jostling crowd and headed straight for the most imposing establishment at the entrance of Hefang Street: Deyue Tower.

"Deyue Tower" had originally been founded during the Jiajing era and was a famous establishment in Suzhou Prefecture. This one on Qinghe Street in Hangzhou, however, was a knockoff — do not assume the ancients had high moral character, nor that they were simple-minded; anyone who has read "Xiaolin Guangji" knows better.

Hu Zhengqi, with his two companions, stepped through the main door of Deyue Tower. It was now mid-Si hour, around ten in the morning — not yet time for customers to arrive, so the exquisitely decorated, luxuriously grand restaurant still showed no sign of patrons.

A waiter immediately came forward with eager attentiveness.

Adviser Hu, true to his nature, still wore a face full of smiles even when facing a mere server. While mouthing "may your business prosper," he took a seat by the window, ordered a plate of Crispy Butter Snails, and then asked the waiter to summon the Shopkeeper.

The Shopkeeper of Deyue Tower was surnamed Duan, a collateral branch of the prominent Duan family in the city. The Duan clan had risen during the Wanli Era; the family had produced a Minister of Justice and a Provincial Administration Commissioner of Yunnan-Guizhou. Even now, the family had not declined — they had two Prefects serving in external posts alone, a pile of juren and xiucai degree holders, and were truly one of the foremost gentry households in Hangzhou City.

And the very first place Adviser Hu came knocking on today was this Deyue Tower, a knockoff run by the Duan family.

Seeing Shopkeeper Duan approach, Adviser Hu hurriedly rose. Shopkeeper Duan, thirty-five or thirty-six years old and in his prime, was long accustomed to dealing with all sorts of people and naturally knew who this man was. After a few polite words, the four sat down.

"I wonder what guidance Master Hu brings by gracing our humble shop today?" Though Shopkeeper Duan was clad in silks, his fingers covered in rings — wealth pressing upon one — after years as a shopkeeper, whatever he thought in his heart, his tone remained quite amiable.

"Mm. I, Hu, have come with a piece of good news to report to the Shopkeeper." Hu Zhengqi swallowed the butter snail in his mouth, took a sip of tea, and then said with a beaming smile: "Our Group Head, having recently reflected on the hardships of shopkeepers' livelihoods, has thus decreed: from this day forward, no wandering beggars shall be permitted to come to your doors begging for food or money, disturbing your honored guests' enjoyment."

"Oh? That is indeed a good thing. Your esteemed Sect Leader is most considerate!" Shopkeeper Duan said with a smile upon hearing this.

"Mm. There is just one matter: these beggars, cooped up in ruined temples every day, still need a few mouthfuls of food, and men must be assigned to watch over them. Our Group Head's idea is that each shopkeeper henceforth bestows a few silver coins monthly, and this matter will then be properly settled."

"Heh heh..." A faintly thin face, Shopkeeper Duan's expression now revealed a sardonic smile that said, "I knew this was coming." "May I ask, for this charitable deed, how much silver is required per month?"

"Not much, not much." Hu Zhengqi's face was wreathed in smiles, his eyes narrowed to slits. As if he hadn't seen Shopkeeper Duan's deeply sarcastic expression, he slowly extended a single finger: "For a top-tier establishment like Deyue Tower in Hangzhou City, a mere twenty taels of silver per month will suffice."

Hearing this, Shopkeeper Duan could no longer hold back. He opened his mouth and began to laugh heartily; beside him, Hu Zhengqi, as if the deal were already done, also joined in with a fawning laugh.

Laughing and laughing, Shopkeeper Duan suddenly stopped, his expression shifting. He fixed his gaze on Hu Zhengqi and asked: "Does Master Hu know who the owner of Deyue Tower is?"

"Knowledge, knowledge — the proprietor of the Duan Residence Second Branch. Tsk tsk, a high threshold. Commoners like us could never hope to climb that high in this lifetime."

"Knowledge is enough." Shopkeeper Duan then tapped a finger on the dish of Crispy Butter Snails on the table. "Consider this a complimentary gift from the establishment. Farewell — no need to see you out!"

Adviser Hu and his party had not even been inside Deyue Tower for ten minutes before they were driven out.

This meant that the collection of the "Flow Population Comprehensive Management Fee," the Beggar Sect's newly launched fee-collection project, had hit a snag right at the very first checkpoint.

Fortunately, today was the first day and the project had only just begun — there was still time to work on everyone.

Time soon reached high noon.

As one of the few great restaurants in Hangzhou City, Deyue Tower was now at its peak hour with honored guests thronging the doors, and the whole building, from top to bottom, was a flurry of shouting and bustling activity.

Deyue Tower's loyal patron, the tall and gaunt Proprietor Ma of Silk Village, was just then humming a tune, a Yixing purple-clay teapot of One Type cradled in his hand, swaying as he arrived at the entrance of Deyue Tower.

A familiar waiter inside spotted Proprietor Ma's arrival and hastily let out a ringing cry: "Master Ma has arrived—" and was about to come out to welcome him.

Just at that moment, two figures suddenly came dashing out from an angle. When they were still three meters away from Master Ma, they threw themselves forward in a desperate pounce and groveled at Master Ma's feet.

The next moment, the hem of Master Ma's Nanjing Satin robe was flipped open, revealing the snow-white foot-wrappings on his legs. The two men simultaneously reached out and seized Master Ma's legs, wailing in unison: "Hungry... Great Lord, spare a coin or two..."

Shocked and furious, Master Ma looked down. Before he could even make out the two men's faces, a wave of foul stench struck him so hard he staggered — luckily, with his legs now in someone's grip, the old master just barely steadied his stance.

Fixing his gaze for a clearer look, Master Ma could not help but roar: "What audacity!"

... On the snow-white foot-wrappings, two sets of yellow claw-prints had now been left behind. These two symbols were even more wretched than the character "Misery" written in fresh blood — because these had been written in excrement.