Chapter 268: First Battle

Li Banfeng said, "I'm surnamed Ye, as in night. I'm buying this cinema."

The owner of Sanfu Cinema had some discernment—he'd once read about rare surnames in a magazine and confirmed that Ye was indeed a real surname.

"So you're Master Ye. You really mean to screen 'Blood Spear Detective'?"

Li Banfeng nodded. "I love this movie."

The owner gritted his teeth. "I love it too—it's a proper good film. If I were a few years younger, I'd join you and fight those bastards…"

As he spoke, the cinema owner's voice cracked.

He truly resented it.

Knowing resentment means the spirit still lives.

"Master Ye, I'll sell you the cinema. How much are you offering?"

"You name the price first."

The cinema owner asked for two hundred silver dollars.

The price was cheap—ridiculously so.

The main reason was that he was desperate to sell, and the cinema was little more than a shell, nearly destroyed.

Fortunately, this was Heishipo—everything was easy to procure.

Xiao Chuan was put in charge of refurbishing the cinema: simple repairs, just enough to show films. Li Banfeng gave him three days to finish.

The cinema owner, nominally Bai Qiusheng, had lived in Heishipo before and wouldn't arouse suspicion.

As soon as work began, word spread quickly.

In a grand, antique mansion in southern Heishipo, Tang Pei, elder of the Qingshou Society in Heishipo, was reading in his study.

Such mansions were rare in Heishipo, and neither street in front nor behind had trains.

Tang Pei devoted his life to scholarship and antiquity, revering ancient sages and obsessing over their lost teachings.

He despised trains, machines, films, and newspapers, believing they ruined tranquility and corrupted character.

For example, regarding trains, Tang Pei once remarked: "This thing spews smoke and fog, roars like thunder, identical in form to the demons described in ancient texts.

Those inside the carriages are swallowed whole by demons, sacrificing their spirit and essence for mere convenience, willingly sinking for temporary comfort—laughable, pitiful."

In Tang Pei's view, the convenience machines brought only fueled indulgence and moral decay.

Tang Pei often taught his disciples that life's purpose was to refine and grow under the sages' teachings; any desire for pleasure or ease was a corruption of body and soul.

He imposed strict demands on his family, insisting they endure hardship and reject comfort.

He required his wife and twenty-six concubines to attend morning lessons daily, studying the sages' teachings with him, leaving no opening for corrupt thoughts to undermine the family's honor.

As an elder of the Qingshou Society, he was among the most respected men in Heishipo—he had led the mobs that smashed two cinemas. Now, hearing one of them was reopening, he was furious:

"Who bought Sanfu Cinema?"

One student replied: "A writer named Bai Qiusheng—he lived in Heishipo for over a decade, surviving by writing lowbrow articles,

and now he's returned with wealth earned in Lüshui City, hoping to run a business here."

Tang Pei sighed. "Let him have a livelihood, but if he dares screen those lewd films again, I won't spare him!"

The student nodded. "I'll go warn him."

Tang Pei nodded, and the student immediately went to Sanfu Cinema.

The student was Ai Chixiang, Tang Pei's most loyal disciple.

Bai Qiusheng was busy writing for the newspaper and wasn't at the cinema; Ai Chixiang scolded Xiao Chuan instead.

He spouted Confucian phrases, which Xiao Chuan didn't understand, but as Li Banfeng instructed, he agreed to everything.

Several workers at the refurbishment site spat on the ground in front of Ai Chixiang.

Ai Chixiang snapped: "What's your meaning?"

One worker laughed. "Spitting. You can't even take that?"

Ai Chixiang cursed and left.

Xiao Chuan watched the workers and praised: "Good job, brothers—you've got guts!"

One worker growled: "Those bastards never do anything right. What's wrong with watching a movie? Why do they come to harass us?

Say our movie-watching corrupts morals, but their master has twenty-six concubines—does that not corrupt morals?"

Many workers joined in, shouting curses.

Li Banfeng sat on the cinema's second floor, listening clearly through his thread-earring.

The cinema owner had spirit.

Such people weren't rare in Heishipo.

This might be Heishipo's character.

Lu Mao's assets were all in Heishipo, yet he didn't live here—likely because of Heishipo's character.

Xiao Chuan gathered the workers, lowered his voice: "There's another job—night work, triple pay. Interested?"

…

Bai Qiusheng and Yu Wenqi, with a group of writers, spent half a day compiling the first issue of the newspaper. That afternoon, they typeset and printed three thousand copies.

Li Banfeng frowned. "Only this many?"

Bai Qiusheng smiled. "In Heishipo, for a new paper's debut, this is plenty. Paper and ink cost money—printing more would be inappropriate."

"How much will you sell it for?"

Ma Wu said: "Six mao per copy. New paper—we're just building buzz."

"That's the stall price. What's the wholesale price to the stalls here?"

Li Banfeng didn't understand newspaper business, especially Heishipo's methods.

Ma Wu said: "No wholesale price. We deliver to each stall. If sold, we split the profit. If unsold, we take them back and sell as scrap to paper mills, then buy fresh paper.

Simply put: if two thousand copies sell, we break even with a little profit. If only a thousand sell, we lose."

Li Banfeng shook his head. "Don't sell like that. Print five thousand. Sell each for two mao."

"Two mao?" Ma Wu shook his head. "No way. Even if we sold them all, we wouldn't recover costs."

"You're a true businessman," Li Banfeng laughed. "You really think this thing will make money?"

Ma Wu slapped his forehead. He was used to counting every profit—had forgotten the real purpose.

"Fine. Two mao."

The hand-crank press printed two thousand more copies. Workers had to fold them all, working until dusk. The first issue of "Ye Lai Xiang" was finally distributed.

Famous works, low price—buyers knew quality. That night, every stall sold out.

The next day, stalls demanded more. Ma Wu printed five thousand more. Li Banfeng pushed the writers to finish the second issue—the one press wasn't enough.

Ma Wu sent Xiao Chuan to buy two more presses. With three running, the second issue of "Ye Lai Xiang" sold twenty-five thousand.

Stalls everywhere demanded more.

Ma Wu bought machines, hired workers—the factory buzzed with activity.

The third issue of the newspaper came out. The first magazine issue came out too.

The front-page news wasn't copied from other papers—it was written by Bai Qiusheng and Yu Wenqi themselves.

"Blood Spear Detective III" screens tonight at Sanfu Cinema. Special discount: 40% off.

Nearly half the magazine's articles were reviews of "Blood Spear Detective."

The newspapers and magazines were packed. Ma Wu was about to dispatch them when visitors arrived.

Li Banfeng thought Qingshou Society had come. If they did now, it'd be hard to handle.

Yu Wenqi reminded him: "Seventh Master, don't forget—Qingshou Society has three tactics: beat with sticks, pull hair, slap labels. Be careful."

But when Bai Qiusheng stepped out, it wasn't Qingshou Society—it was a group of twenty- to thirty-year-old men, kicking over piles of newspapers and magazines, beating the folding workers.

Heishipo workers weren't cowards—they moved to fight back. Bai Qiusheng rushed forward to stop them.

Yu Wenqi whispered from inside the factory: "These are Green Fire Gang members. They're dangerous."

"How dangerous?"

In Puluozhou, doing business meant passing through two gates: powerful clans or gang factions. Either way, you paid tribute.

Yu Wenqi said: "Green Fire Gang demands money ruthlessly, acts violently—burns shops, kills people. Seventh Master, do we fight them hard or soft?"

Li Banfeng smiled. "Perfect timing. These men are useful. Let's start soft."

Yu Wenqi didn't understand—what use were these thugs?

Their gang lieutenant was Zeng Wenbing, second son at home, called Second Master Zeng.

Bai Qiusheng recognized him, bowed low: "Second Master, when did you arrive? Why not warn us? Please come inside…"

Zeng Wenbing slapped Bai Qiusheng across the face. "Don't act familiar. Do I even know you? Doing business on my turf without paying respects—do you even know the rules?"

Bai Qiusheng dared not reply. He kept smiling through the blow. "Second Master, my business just opened—I hadn't had time to inform you…"

"Enough nonsense. Bring me twenty thousand cash. That's your entry fee. Monthly tribute comes later."

"Second Master, we're a small operation—we haven't made a profit yet. Twenty thousand at once…"

"You want another slap? I'll tell you this: if I finish smoking this cigarette and you haven't paid, I'll burn this place down."

Bai Qiusheng rushed back inside. "He wants twenty thousand."

Li Banfeng said: "Give it to him. Remember that slap. Remember the workers beaten. In a few days, we'll take it all back—with interest."

Bai Qiusheng paid. Zeng Wenbing and his men left.

Ma Wu ordered the papers and magazines sorted and delivered to stalls.

That night, Li Banfeng had everything ready. He sat atop the cinema, behind the sign, waiting quietly.

Crowds gathered outside the cinema—the "Ye Lai Xiang" promotion was strong, and "Blood Spear Detective" had immense appeal.

There's another crucial point: the people of Heishipo have guts.

If the cinema dares to screen it, they dare to watch!

Half an hour before the film starts, the lobby is already packed.

Tang Peigong, elder of Heishipo from the Qingshou Society, arrived with his men.

Beside him walked a hundred or so disciples, Ai Chixiang leading the way, shoving and pushing through the crowd, barking orders:

"Wood too rotten to carve, walls too filthy to plaster—do you even know what shame means? You've ruined every shred of human decency!"

Yuwen Qi said: "Seventh Master, they're starting with the stick-beating."

The crowd arrived at the entrance, and Tang Peigong shouted loudly: "Ma Junyang, vile and lewd wretch, your life is filled with countless disgraceful acts…"

Tang Peigong began listing Ma Junyang's crimes.

Yuwen Qi said: "Seventh Master, now they're pulling out the hair-pulling tactic."

After finishing the accusations, Tang Peigong roared with fury: "Films are not true drama—they are foreign tricks and gimmicks, using sound and spectacle to corrupt people, the very source of moral decay!

Vile wretches like you produce such vile films, and you, ignorant masses, willingly swallow this poison without understanding the truth—this breaks my heart!

This cinema, for screening such vile films, has already been punished by me, yet it dares repeat the offense—must be utterly destroyed to serve as a warning!"

Yuwen Qi said: "Seventh Master, this is the Qingshou Society's greatest art: slapping on labels.

Stick-beating, hair-pulling, label-slapping—once they've used these three master tactics, no matter how good a reputation you have, they'll ruin it completely."

Xiao Chuanzi muttered through gritted teeth: "Let's see who ends up stinking today!"

Tang Peigong ordered his men to act; his disciples raised their sticks, ready to smash the cinema.

Li Banfeng ordered: "Stick-beating!"

As Tang Peigong reached the cinema entrance, his disciples raised their sticks to strike—when suddenly, a seventy-year-old woman collapsed on the ground, screaming: "What are you doing? Why are you beating an old woman like me?"

The old woman's face was covered in blood. Tang Peigong froze. All the disciples froze.

Who accidentally injured the old woman?

The woman continued wailing: "Are you not raised by parents? Do you have no father or mother? You beat an old woman with all your strength—don't you fear heavenly retribution? Don't you fear lightning? Don't you fear your ancestors rising to claim you, you bastards?"

Tang Peigong turned livid with rage. Ai Chixiang roared: "You shameless hag—"

"Shameless your mother! Who are you calling a hag? I'm this old, and you insult me with your mouth, strike me with your hands—so you're raised by parents too? What kind of mongrels did you crawl out of?"

Ai Chixiang opened his mouth but couldn't speak. Before this street-shouting woman, his tongue was useless.

Fuming, Ai Chixiang lost control, grabbed the old woman's hair, and snarled: "Who are you calling names?"

Li Banfeng ordered: "Hair-pulling!"

A group of photographers emerged from the crowd and captured Ai Chixiang grabbing the woman's hair.

The old woman's face was bloody, teeth clenched, one hand gripping Ai Chixiang's wrist, the other clawing and striking him.

Li Banfeng ordered the film projector moved out—this vivid scene must be included in "Blood Spear Detective: Part Four."

Seeing people filming, Tang Peigong roared: "Chixiang, stop! Don't fall into the enemy's trap!"

Ai Chixiang tried to pull his hand back, but the street-shouting woman held his wrist locked tight.

Street-shouting women easily provoke others—but never fight them.

It's not about respecting the elderly—it's because most men can't beat a street-shouting woman.

Ai Chixiang couldn't move his hand. A strange force spread from his wrist through his entire body—he was completely controlled by the woman. To aid filming, she made him twist his face into a snarling grimace, swing his fists, slap his own cheeks—all manner of motions.

With these precious recordings, the second tactic—"hair-pulling"—was complete.

But this scene ignited the crowd's fury.

"You beat an old woman? You bastards!"

"Qingshou Society? Qing their mother's ass—they're all shameless mongrels!"

"What's wrong with watching a movie? Beat the hell out of these dogs!"

This is Heishipo, not Jianren Gang.

Enraged citizens of Heishipo shoved and pushed at Tang Peigong and his disciples.

Seeing the situation turn sour, Tang Peigong ordered his disciples to escort him out immediately.

Some disciples carried cultivation; they surged forward, ready to clear a path.

Think you can leave?

Not so easily!

Li Banfeng ordered: "Label-slapping!"

Xiao Genzi stood atop the cinema roof, expression cold as he watched the crowd below.

A long ladle hung midair; Xiao Chuanzi and his men helped hang ten buckets neatly along its length.

At the perfect moment, Xiao Genzi focused his intent and swung the ladle—ten buckets plummeted from the air.

Tang Peigong was sharp—he sensed something falling, and looked up just in time.

Plop!

One bucket landed squarely on Tang Peigong's head.

Jin Xiu Level Two Technique: "Fragrance Spreads Ten Li!"

This bucket truly carried fragrance for ten li.

Without Xiao Genzi's special antidote, it would take half a year to wash off.

Tang Peigong removed the bucket—his face gleamed gold, his beard and hair turned yellow.

He wanted to vomit, but couldn't spit it all out—his mouth was too full.

He looked for Ai Chixiang—still standing frozen, bucket still on his head.

Li Banfeng watched Tang Peigong coldly: "Just ruining reputations? What's the point?"

Xiao Chuanzi gritted his teeth: "Today we'll ruin him—inside and out!"

Xiao Genzi gripped the ladle and roared: "Bring more buckets!"

PS: To defeat evil, you must be more evil than evil.

Evil men will cry as they call us vile—since they're going to call us vile anyway, we must be vile to the very end.

(End of Chapter)