Chapter 114: Thief Cultivation

The small-clamp hand of Ghosthand Gate, Xing Qiushan, stumbled to the front of an old courtyard east of the Hou Tang City God Temple and banged on the door.

Someone inside called out: “Who is it?”

“Small-clamp from Yangting Road,” Xing Qiushan replied.

Clamp hand was a leader in Ghosthand Gate; small-clamp hand meant a minor leader; Yangting Road was where Li Banfeng had been robbed — Xing Qiushan’s territory.

Xing Qiushan was the man in the suit from last night; he’d taken five men to rob Li Banfeng, only to encounter a madman — three of his men dead, two wounded, and he himself injured.

Inside the main hall, he met Sect Master Xie Juncong and collapsed to his knees, wailing.

“Boss, our brothers were just doing business on our turf — we cracked a pocket and took a wallet — that monster went for the kill! Three brothers dead, two wounded — Boss, you must avenge us!”

He meant: they were stealing on their own turf, took only a wallet, and got beaten to three dead, two wounded — begging the boss to seek revenge.

Xie Juncong, over sixty, seemed hard of hearing: “Little Shan, what did you just say? I didn’t catch it.”

“You cracked a pocket and took a wallet — shouldn’t that not have led to a fight?”

Indeed — how could stealing lead to a fight?

Xing Qiushan replied: “That man was an old hand — he caught us mid-crack.”

Xie Juncong pressed: “If you were caught, drop the wallet and run!”

Exactly — drop the wallet and flee, and you’d be fine.

“Boss, we ran — but he wouldn’t let us go, insisted on fighting to the death, we couldn’t escape.”

“Six of you — you all couldn’t escape?”

Xing Qiushan grunted: “Boss, we were trapped in an alley — truly couldn’t get out.”

“When you moved, you didn’t check your escape route? Come on, Little Shan — you’re no rookie.”

“We hadn’t eaten in days — we were desperate…”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Xie Juncong shook his head. “Little Shan, I’m old and addled — tell me honestly — were you just doing business, or were you crossing the line?”

Crossing the line meant highway robbery.

Ghosthand Gate was a sect of thief cultivators — stealing was their trade, robbery their taboo.

Xing Qiushan could never admit he’d robbed: “Old Boss, it was strictly business — we’d never break sect rules — Old Boss, don’t you trust me?”

Xie Juncong stared at Xing Qiushan; Xing Qiushan stared back, not a flicker of evasion in his eyes.

After a moment, Xie Juncong sighed: “Little Shan, I’m truly addled — but I trust you. How are the two wounded brothers?”

“They can’t even sit up — badly hurt!” Xing Qiushan wept again.

“Give them more leaves — let them heal well. Did you bury the fallen brothers?”

“This… this hasn’t been done yet…”

“Hurry and bury them — rest in peace. I’m just an old fool — I forget these things. Think again — is there anything else I missed? Go take care of it.”

Xie Juncong seemed to have said much — yet said nothing at all.

Was he truly old and addled?

He wasn’t addled at all.

He’d spent his whole life in Ghosthand Gate, rising from street thief to Sect Master — what hadn’t he seen? Could Xing Qiushan fool him?

Xing Qiushan had robbed — met a hard target — lost men, barely escaped with his life.

Logically, Xing Qiushan should’ve been punished by sect law — but Xie Juncong turned a blind eye and let it pass.

Revenge? Forget it. Cleanup? Xie Juncong ignored it — that was punishment enough.

Xing Qiushan left Ghosthand Gate’s lair, mood sour, when one wounded subordinate, Deng Jingcai, handed him a photo: “Big Brother, this came from Hua Shezi — this man is Li Banfeng, the one Lu family is looking for.”

Xing Qiushan frowned: “Why show me this?”

“Big Brother, look closely — doesn’t this man look a lot like last night’s madman?”

“Look alike?” Xing Qiushan thought they were very different — “Last night he had a big beard.”

Deng Jingcai pointed at the photo: “Big Brother, beards grow or vanish — look at the features, the brows, the eyes — look how similar they are!”

Hearing this, Xing Qiushan now saw a resemblance.

Deng Jingcai added: “Big Brother, if we hand this photo to the Old Boss, it’s a major achievement.”

“Hand it to the Old Boss? Look at your ambition,” Xing Qiushan whispered. “How much is the reward?”

Deng Jingcai thought: “I heard — alive, twenty thousand; dead, ten thousand; just reporting to Lu family, three thousand.”

Xing Qiushan frowned: “That’s all?”

“It’s a lot! I’m talking silver dollars!”

“Silver dollars!” Xing Qiushan laughed. “Brother, we don’t just get revenge — we get rich this time!”

…

Li Banfeng, face caked in makeup, opened his eyes.

He rubbed his stomach — it ached faintly.

The wounds had scabbed over; bloodstains on his clothes and sheets had been washed clean.

The phonograph sat quietly beside the bed, as if asleep.

Li Banfeng pressed open his pocket watch — it was ten o’clock.

Ten o’clock.

That was troublesome.

Li Banfeng didn’t know how long he’d slept.

His pocket watch was gold-plated, looked upscale — but the craftsmanship was crude; no calendar, no date — he couldn’t tell if it was ten a.m. or ten p.m.

Normally, he’d just step outside and check.

But now, stepping out required caution — he was still in Lüshui City.

Li Banfeng carefully pushed open the door.

If it was dark, he’d leave at once for Lanyang Village and focus on repairing his wife.

If it was light, he’d repair his wife now, then leave Lüshui City after dark.

Li Banfeng opened the door — outside, daylight blazed — it was ten a.m.

He immediately retreated into his portable dwelling, opened a can of food, ate a bite, then pulled out a screwdriver and wrench to dismantle two phonographs and one projector.

The plan was good — but execution was harder than expected. Li Banfeng had studied mechanics in university, but before these three machines, his knowledge was useless.

Prozhou couldn’t use electrical devices on a large scale, so they’d pushed mechanical engineering to its extreme — even a specialist from Yuezhou might not understand these machines.

Li Banfeng held the wrench, wondering where to start, when suddenly the phonograph hissed.

“Husband~”

That voice was intoxicating.

So intoxicating.

Li Banfeng shuddered, turned to his wife: “You’re awake?”

“Husband, you’ve just recovered from serious injury — don’t get out of bed. Come rest beside your humble servant.”

Li Banfeng had crawled into the front cabinet of the steam phonograph, ready to remove the lever — when a soft stream of steam blocked him.

“Husband, such heavy work — why must you do it? Go fetch that wretched Honglian.”

“Fetch Honglian for what?”

“Husband~ just bring that wretched Honglian.”

His wife’s voice still occasionally shifted pitch — but it was still intoxicating.

Li Banfeng asked no more and quickly brought over the copper lotus.

The copper lotus glowed faintly — she was still refining the corpse of the Cloak Moth Lady.

His wife spoke softly: “Sister Honglian, I have a favor to ask.”

The copper lotus saw the steam phonograph — her tightly closed lotus leaves brewed droplets of clear dew.

Was she excited to see his wife?

Clearly, they got along well.

“Hey~ Sister, look at these machines — exquisite craftsmanship, fine materials — just take them, won’t you?”

Could the copper lotus even accept machines?

Petals didn’t move — the copper lotus seemed unwilling.

“Hey~ Sister, I know you disdain such vulgar things — but last night you heard: these were won by my husband’s life.”

On the petals, more dewdrops gathered, poised to fall.

She seemed to be speaking to the phonograph.

The phonograph listened a moment, then replied: “That’s not true — though my husband did this for me, wasn’t I doing it for our household too? If we two fight over this, won’t outsiders laugh?”

Someone was indeed laughing.

Li Banfeng faintly heard a voice.

“Meteor flies jade bullet, sword falls on autumn frost — fight! This must be settled — neither can yield!”

It was Tang Dao.

Li Banfeng pulled Tang Dao from his pocket and kicked him aside.

The copper lotus remained silent — his wife grew angry.

“If you won’t give me this face today, I won’t beg you. Husband, step into the outer chamber — I’ll settle this once and for all with that wretch!”

Li Banfeng frowned: “You’re injured — why fight?”

“Not to win or lose — but to preserve dignity. Husband, today I’ll stake my life here — let’s see if Honglian dares fight me in this room!”

Clang, clang, clang~

Though the gongs and drums played unevenly, their momentum was fierce—Madam meant business.

Li Banfeng stood in the center, unsure how to mediate this situation.

After a long stalemate, the petals hissed, and the red lotus bloomed.

Tang Dao sprang up instantly, becoming a bolt of lightning as he darted into the outer chamber and shut the door.

A surge of energy rose from the lotus heart, lifting both phonographs and one film projector, sucking them all into the lotus heart.

Li Banfeng had always believed the bronze lotus could not digest objects lacking spiritual energy.

Now he understood: unwillingness and inability were two different things.

Less than a minute later, the lotus bloomed again, revealing two lotus seeds within its heart.

One seed was fully ripe; Li Banfeng peeled it free.

The other was unripe, stuck fast—he couldn’t budge it.

“Hey, husband, that seed isn’t ripe yet~ it’ll take a few more days. First, let little servant swallow this pill.”

Li Banfeng held the ripe seed as the bronze lotus closed its petals and continued refining the elixir.

Soon, the seed in Li Banfeng’s hand exploded, spitting out a pale yellow elixir tinged with shimmering silver.

What color was this?

It looked like the color of wood mixed with metal.

By the glow of the phonograph’s flame, he saw gears turning inside the elixir, and wisps of steam swirling around them.

Mechanical elixir?

Li Banfeng opened the phonograph’s back panel, ready to insert the elixir, when Madam cried out: “Hey, husband, what are you doing putting it there? Just let little servant eat it!”

So eating it was all that mattered.

Li Banfeng placed the elixir into the phonograph’s horn. The machine was instantly shrouded in mist, softly whispering: “Little servant will rest for a moment. Husband, rest well too. When you wake, we shall both be healed.”

Steam soothed Li Banfeng.

Li Banfeng held the phonograph.

The two fell into sweet sleep.

The bronze lotus released two clear dewdrops, one falling onto Li Banfeng, the other onto the phonograph.

…

At the Lu family mansion, Lu Dongliang was organizing the cultivation principles for Lu Chunying’s entry into travel cultivation.

The chief steward, Qiu Zhiheng, approached Lu Dongliang and whispered: “Xing Qiushan of the Ghost Hand Sect wishes to meet you.”

“No!” Lu Dongliang refused immediately.

He had no desire to receive guests today, let alone someone as insignificant as Xing Qiushan.

Qiu Zhiheng added: “Xing Qiushan says he saw Li Banfeng on Yangting Road.”

Lu Dongliang stared in shock: “Who did he say?”

PS: Banfeng’s identity is exposed—situation critical. Vote quickly to resolve it; comments welcome.

(End of Chapter)