Chapter 225: The Mountain Beyond Fengtou Mountain

Before dawn, Wu Yongchao heard someone knocking at the door; when he opened it, a beautiful young woman stood before him.

It was so late at night, and suddenly a beautiful girl came knocking, so lovely-looking and smiling so sweetly—it was clearly…

Clearly painted.

This was meticulously painted by Li Banfeng; it would fool ordinary people easily, but Wu Yongchao was a fourth-layer Zhai Xiu, renowned for his painting skills—using this trick on him was utterly inadequate.

The girl handed Wu Yongchao two sacks and a letter; after reading it, Wu Yongchao asked her: "Where has the fortress lord gone? Why send you with such an important message?"

The girl covered her mouth and laughed, saying nothing.

Because Li Banfeng hadn't painted her mouth.

…

The next day, Wu Yongchao tucked the two sacks under his arm and quietly left Tiemenbao, heading to a nearby village.

Li Banfeng's letter made it clear: someone was watching nearby, from right outside Tiemenbao's gate all the way to the village.

This was Jiang Xiang Bang's usual tactic; though Tiemenbao seemed calm, countless eyes were watching from nearby.

Just like the Yu Family Cloth Shop—on the surface, nothing seemed amiss, yet a branch lodge was hidden nearby.

In the village, Wu Yongchao changed into coarse cloth clothing, put on a tattered felt hat, bought a wheelbarrow from a carpenter, then went to a farmer's house and purchased two sacks of rice.

He pushed the rice back into the wheelbarrow; still five li from the fortress, a man in a cloth shirt and straw hat walked up, grinning.

"Brother, where are you in such a hurry?"

Wu Yongchao lowered his head: "I'm selling rice."

"How much per jin?"

"Three kuai." Wu Yongchao deliberately quoted a high price.

"Can I see the quality?"

The straw-hatted man didn't wait for Wu Yongchao's reply—he pulled out a dagger and slit one sack open.

He grabbed a handful of white rice, rubbed it between his fingers—the grains turned to powder.

"Good quality rice, three kuai isn't expensive—I'll take it." The straw-hatted man pulled out two silver dollars and placed them on the cart.

"I'm not selling." Wu Yongchao shook his head, picked up the money, and tried to return it.

The straw-hatted man laughed: "You took the money—that means you accepted it. Once you take the money, the deal's done. Now saying you won't sell is too late."

"I won't sell to you!" Zhai Xiu weren't good with words and disliked quarrels; Wu Yongchao tossed the silver dollars aside and pushed the cart forward.

The straw-hatted man suddenly kicked out—his foot shattered the wheelbarrow's wheel.

The cart overturned, sacks tumbled to the ground.

Wu Yongchao's face flushed red: "You're bullying me!"

"Young man, don't talk like that. You're selling rice; I paid you for it. You threw my money on the ground—who's bullying whom?"

Wu Yongchao took a fighting stance, ready to clash with the straw-hatted man.

The straw-hatted man whistled sharply—dozens of men surged from both sides of the road.

"Young brother, really going to fight? It's just a business deal—why take it so seriously?"

"I'll fight you all!" Wu Yongchao clashed with the dozen men.

His cultivation base was higher than theirs but lower than the straw-hatted man's; under their combined assault, Wu Yongchao sustained minor injuries and escaped using the Gui Xin Si Jian technique back to Tiemenbao.

This was Li Banfeng's instruction: fight them, but survive at all costs.

The straw-hatted man removed his hat, collected the silver dollars, and grinned: "He refused the money, now he's got neither rice nor cash—he's been royally cheated."

One of his men asked: "Tangzhu, what do we do with the rice?"

"Keep it—don't you eat?" The straw-hatted man was Han Jinwei, Tangzhu of Huangtuqiao.

Han Jinwei gazed toward Tiemenbao and told his men: "See? This kid's cultivation's high—he's risking his life over two sacks of rice.

Tiemenbao's in dire straits; otherwise they wouldn't be fighting bandits. Their grain's nearly gone—we'll tighten the siege for two more days, and they'll break."

Han Jinwei ordered his men to store the grain, then moved to a nearby farmhouse to continue surveillance.

They'd rented this farmhouse—it offered a wide view outward, yet looked utterly unremarkable from outside.

An ideal spot for surveillance and ambush.

No matter where they went, Jiang Xiang Bang disciples always found perfect hiding places—it was truly a legitimate skill.

Han Jinwei told his men: "Remember—we want supplies, not lives. I'm here to negotiate with Tiemenbao; avoid open conflict if possible."

…

A fortune-teller, wearing dark glasses and holding a blind man's cane, walked along the path toward Tiemenbao.

A man stepped forward and blocked him: "What's your business?"

The fortune-teller bowed humbly: "I read fortunes and interpret characters."

"Really?" Jiang Xiang Bang had many members from fortune-telling backgrounds; this disciple, Zhu Youduan, studied the fortune-teller closely—his tools were professional.

"Where are you going to read fortunes?"

"I heard ahead is Tiemenbao—good place for business."

"Not anymore. They can't even feed themselves—don't go there."

The fortune-teller smiled: "Thank you for the warning."

That was just polite dismissal—anyone traveling far for business wouldn't turn back because of one word.

The fortune-teller kept walking toward Tiemenbao; Zhu Youduan grabbed him: "I told you not to go—why won't you listen?"

The fortune-teller panicked: "I'm just walking my path—what's it to you? What are you—"

SLAP!

Zhu Youduan struck him across the face: "Get lost. If you don't listen, it won't be just a slap next time."

The fortune-teller walked away, clutching his cheek.

After walking several li, he sat by the roadside and burst into tears, looking utterly wronged.

"What kind of thing is this? I'm just doing business—what did I do to him? He hit me…"

After crying for a while, he confirmed his tail had left; he touched his cane, used a hook to send a message to He Jiaqing.

"Jiang Xiang Bang has surrounded Tiemenbao—do we strike first, or wait until they succeed and then intercept?"

Jiang Xiang Bang?

He Jiaqing laughed: "These scum are here to join the party—who leaked the news?"

"They're blocking merchants—keep this up, the Zhai Xiu inside Tiemenbao won't have a bite to eat."

He Jiaqing sneered: "After all these years, Jiang Xiang Bang still uses the same tricks."

"I want to talk to their leader—they slapped me, and hard."

"Old Wan, what's your cultivation? What haven't you seen? Even that annoying Lu Dongliang—you endured him.

Don't stoop to their level. Observe their situation first—don't rush to act."

"I'll follow your advice."

…

Tangzhu Han Jinwei of Huangtuqiao slept soundly in the farmhouse.

Jiang Xiang Bang was a mid-tier gang in Puzhou—far stronger than Feiyingshan.

Han Jinwei knew Tiemenbao was easy to defend, hard to attack—he didn't assault the gate, only blocked the road.

Every Zhai Xiu in Tiemenbao bought food and supplies from outside merchants, each on their own.

Zhai Xiu disliked burdening others; if one family ran out of grain, they wouldn't dare ask another for help. With this "clear-field, fortified-wall" tactic, within a month, Tiemenbao would surrender without a fight.

Around six in the evening, Han Jinwei grew uneasy.

He thought he heard movement.

After years of surviving in the martial world, Han Jinwei was cautious—he rushed outside and found his six guards missing.

Something's wrong!

No bodies, no traces—only a few drops of blood and a torn sack on the ground.

White rice spilled everywhere; in the middle lay a sheet of white paper.

He unfolded it—two lines written:

Buy rice, you pay.

No money? Pay with your life.

Han Jinwei flew into a rage—his nose swelled, the tip turned black; he sniffed the paper.

He was a fifth-layer Ti Xiu, originally human, his true form a wolf.

Using that scent, Han Jinwei chased outside, following the trail until he reached Tiemenbao's gate.

The steam gate was shut.

Wu Yongchao stood atop the gate arch, grinning at Han Jinwei: "You came to pay for the rice? Our fortress lord says two sacks of rice cost six lives—you paid almost enough, no need for change."

If you need more rice, I'll sell you some—same price as before."

Han Jinwei gritted his teeth, eyes glowing green.

He had no idea how Wu Yongchao killed his six men without him noticing.

Neither did Wu Yongchao—he didn't kill anyone; he only delivered the rice.

He didn't know the sacks concealed Li Banfeng's key.

At this moment, Li Banfeng stood behind the steam gate, waiting for Han Jinwei to launch a full assault.

Han Jinwei truly surged with rage, gathering his men to storm the gate.

But he suppressed the impulse—he knew Tiemenbao was ready, and understood the cost of a direct assault.

Han Jinwei, who had risen to become a Hall Master in the Jiangxiang Bang, endured this momentary humiliation and left.

Even if he left, it didn't matter—Li Banfeng was in the mood to play along with him.

That night, Han Jinwei ordered all branch units to remain on high alert; if they encountered any members of the Tiemenbao, kill on sight—even while sleeping, keep your eyes open.

Just keeping your eyes open is enough?

Li Banfeng had long since memorized every road nearby; he captured two Jiangxiang Bang disciples, interrogated them, and by dawn, had mapped out every branch of the Huangtuqiao Hall with perfect clarity.

Over the next three days, he led several fourth-layer Zhai Xiu on visits to each branch; by the end, every branch had suffered casualties—some five or six dead, others two or three.

The fortune-teller hid in the shadows and relayed the news to He Jiaqing.

He Jiaqing sneered.

This wasn't a problem that could be solved by mere vigilance; Zhai Xiu possessed an innate talent for going unnoticed, making defense impossible.

Direct assault gains nothing; scorched-earth tactics are pointless—Tiemenbao doesn't play by your rules.

Xiao Zhenggong, you've been away from Waizhou too long; you understand Tiemenbao too little. Sending someone like Han Jinwei here is bound to fail.

Yet Tiemenbao's Zhai Xiu have changed—they're no longer like they used to be.

…

Ten days later, Han Jinwei wanted to leave.

He had no choice; nearly half his Hall's men were dead.

Tiemenbao's Zhai Xiu went out daily to buy rice and vegetables, sometimes even strolling right under Han Jinwei's nose. Every time Han moved, he failed to catch them—yet every night, someone from his side was killed.

If this continued, the Huangtuqiao Hall would be finished.

Han Jinwei dared not report to Xiao Zhenggong; he gathered his remaining men and prepared to retreat back to Huangtuqiao.

Want to leave? It won't be that easy.

Passing Feiyingshan, Han Jinwei suddenly heard a melodious song.

"Beyond the long pavilion, by the ancient road, green grass stretches to the sky,

Evening wind brushes willows, the flute's tune fades; beyond the graves, more mountains rise."

Who is singing?

Why does this song make me so agitated?

Han Jinwei's cultivation was high enough that the song only irritated him.

His subordinates, with lower cultivation, were worse off: third-layer Zhai Xiu felt dizzy, second-layer ones squatted by the roadside vomiting, first-layer ones lay writhing on the ground.

"Leave quickly!" Han Jinwei realized he'd walked into an ambush and ordered immediate withdrawal from Feiyingshan.

Want to leave?

How easy do you think that is?

Li Banfeng often came to Feiyingshan; he knew the terrain intimately. He could draw his wife's power out from the mansion and knew exactly where to set the ambush.

Over a hundred Zhai Xiu burst from the woods, killing anyone they saw.

They had plugged their ears beforehand and were unaffected by the song.

With strong support and coordination from the Feiyingshan bandits, their combat skills had been honed to sharp precision—and this strike was flawless.

Stone men, mud men, paper figures led the charge.

Third- and fourth-layer Zhai Xiu followed closely as the core force.

First- and second-layer Zhai Xiu darted back and forth, hunting stragglers.

Less than ten minutes after combat began, only the Hall Master Han Jinwei, one Deputy Hall Master, and one Branch Master escaped from the entire Huangtuqiao Hall—all others were annihilated.

Li Banfeng stood at the mountain's foot, continuing to sing: "beyond the graves, more mountains rise"—the line fit perfectly.

The dead souls, summoned by Li Banfeng, were quietly swept into his Personal Dwelling when no one was looking.

"Wife, it's time to eat!"

"Oh my darling, you're so tender toward your little servant—today's dishes are truly exquisite."

"My precious wife, remember to thank the Jiangxiang Bang—whether delivering vegetables or goods, their sincerity is beyond reproach."

…

The fortune-teller, in a village hut, sent word to He Jiaqing:

"Tiemenbao set an ambush at Feiyingshan—the Huangtuqiao Hall is likely gone."

"Tiemenbao struck first?" He Jiaqing frowned. "That's not like them. Something's off."

"I think so too. We should investigate their stronghold."

He Jiaqing pondered a moment: "I suspect Jiangxiang Bang won't stop here. Lao Wan, keep watching the show—don't move yet."

PS: One day when I meet He Jiaqing, I wonder what song Banfeng will sing.

(End of Chapter)