Chapter 272

The match between Yelai Xiang and Qingshou Hui caused a huge uproar in Heishipo.

Before the match, Tang Pei Gong led a large procession with banners, reporters, and over a hundred disciples.

On their way back, the disciples brought stretchers and summoned doctors, running all the way to the mansion while wailing and crying.

Tang Pei Gong was severely injured.

Qingshou Hui was severely injured.

The disciples spread rumors everywhere, claiming Yelai Xiang broke the rules by using force on the literary arena.

Qingshou Hui maintained close ties with Dabang Men, whose underlings controlled the major newspapers, giving Qingshou Hui an advantage in propaganda.

Yet in terms of public perception, Qingshou Hui suffered a major setback.

No matter how they explained it, they lost—and lost badly.

Moreover, Elder Wu Decheng never made any statement, nor did he clarify whether the agreed match was literary or martial; he only said there might have been a misunderstanding.

The several renowned witnesses also remained silent, as they too were unclear about the rules of this arena.

Three days later, the entire Heishipo remembered only one thing: Yelai Xiang defeated Qingshou Hui on the arena, and Qingshou Hui's elder was knocked down, nearly beaten to death.

Cinemas across the region began screening "The Blood Spear Detective"; everyone ignored Qingshou Hui's earlier warnings.

"Yelai Xiang" sales kept rising, printing demands grew heavier, and Ma Wu stayed up until three a. . to print more magazines; after sleeping only two hours, he suddenly heard a deafening roar.

"What's going on!" Ma Wu jolted awake and scrambled out of bed.

When he stepped outside, everyone except Li Banfeng had woken up—the sound came from the rooftop.

There was a steam whistle on the roof, used by the factory to signal work start, mealtime, and bedtime.

The boiler was broken, no steam—how could the whistle have sounded?

As Ma Wu pondered the cause, Xiao Chuanzi, covered in coal dust, ran over: "Master Wu, the boiler's fixed!"

"Which boiler?"

"The one in the courtyard!"

Ma Wu snapped: "Why did you fix it?"

Xiao Chuanzi lowered his head in silence—he hadn't slept for three days and nights just to get the boiler working.

After calming down, Ma Wu said: "Since the boiler's fixed, go buy a proper printing machine—we shouldn't have to work so hard."

Xiao Chuanzi was delighted and happily went off to buy the printing machine.

Li Banfeng slept until noon, stepped out of his portable dwelling refreshed, circled the factory twice, and was about to head into town when someone reported that Elder Wu Decheng of Qingshou Hui had returned.

Li Banfeng had a clean workshop cleared out, and the two sat facing each other.

"Elder Wu, the tea's brewing—it'll be ready soon. This time the poison isn't ordinary: not bitter, not astringent, no off-flavor at all. Try it when it's ready."

Wu Decheng smiled and shook his head: "Master Ye, you went too far—Elder Tang won't be able to get out of bed for a year or more."

Li Banfeng sighed helplessly: "Elder Wu, why did you send him to fight? He came here to die. My men letting him live at all is his luck."

Wu Decheng nodded: "That's true. The next match is scheduled for tomorrow night—don't forget our agreement."

Li Banfeng chuckled: "Don't worry—it's just a few people going through the motions. I won't forget."

Wu Decheng rose to leave, and Li Banfeng saw him to the door.

Watching his retreating figure, Li Banfeng touched the pendulum at his waist: "This time, I'll need your help."

"Master, give me any order you wish."

…

Wu Decheng left the "Yelai Xiang" newspaper office and returned to his residence.

In his study sat four disciples: Wu Rongjin, a fifth-layer Wu Xiu; Rao Shaofeng, a fifth-layer Wen Xiu; Cheng Ziyang, a fourth-layer Ti Xiu; and Yue Qingsong, a fourth-layer Du Xiu.

These four were Wu Decheng's most capable fighters.

Wu Decheng poured each of them a cup of wine: "You've all followed me for years, endured much hardship—especially under Tang Pei Gong's rule."

The four raised their cups in unison: "We serve willingly!"

"Tomorrow's fight determines our honor in this lifetime: win, and Heishipo becomes ours; lose, and we'll never stand again in Heishipo."

"Before tomorrow's match, watch carefully—if Master Ye steps onto the arena, I'll join him; if he doesn't, I'll watch from below."

"I made a pact with him: this fight, he's coming to surrender—he'll send trash to go through the motions."

"Don't hold back. Whoever he sends, kill them outright. If he steps on the arena, kill him too. If he doesn't, kill everyone on the arena, then rush down and kill him."

"Don't worry about his guards—I'll join you when the time comes!"

With the plan settled, the senior disciple, fifth-layer Wu Xiu Wu Rongjin, hesitated: "Master, if we kill Master Ye outright, won't we draw criticism?"

"Criticism?" Wu Decheng laughed. "That we're too brutal? Who told them to step on the arena? What rules apply on the arena?"

"When Tang Pei Gong was beaten to that state, who pitied him? Even if a few people muttered at the time, they'll forget in three or five days."

"People only remember the winner. The loser's pleas only make them a joke."

"Remember this: bring back Master Ye's head, and Heishipo is ours!"

…

The next day, at five-thirty p. ., both sides arrived at the arena on time.

Workers had just finished their shift and hadn't even eaten—they all came to watch the fight.

"Who do you think will win this time?"

"I heard it's a real martial match—Elder Wu is stepping in himself. Master Ye is done for."

"Last time you said the same thing—didn't Master Ye still win?"

"Last time was different…"

"Don't waste words. One hundred Hengguo notes—I bet on Master Ye. Dare you bet?"

Spectators had already set up betting stalls.

Li Banfeng looked exhausted, walked to the arena's edge, and greeted Wu Decheng: "Elder Wu, do I just step up and surrender, or fight a bit first?"

Wu Decheng frowned: "Master Ye, don't joke like that. On the arena, we rely on skill."

"Fine, skill it is—acting like this is real…" Li Banfeng yawned and called three men onto the stage.

As Wu Decheng expected, Master Ye came to surrender—and with utter disregard.

None of his previous fighters showed up; the three who stepped forward were pitiful.

One was a bulky man, tall but grossly obese, clearly not a cultivator.

The other two were short and thin, as if starved, barely able to walk straight.

Their attire was coarse cloth, covered in grease and coal dust.

This was pure mockery.

Master Ye must have dragged up a few factory workers fresh off shift, just to pretend.

Wu Decheng whispered: "Master Ye, these are your fighters?"

Li Banfeng snorted: "What? Disgusted? Your own men aren't much better!"

Wu Decheng glanced beside Li Banfeng—he had no guards at all.

Fine, young man, you're bold.

Don't cry later.

A steam whistle blew—both sides prepared.

Wu Decheng's four disciples stepped onto the arena.

Li Banfeng frowned: "What's this? I sent three, you send four? You're outnumbering me?"

His voice carried loud enough for the crowd to murmur.

Wu Decheng stayed silent, but his fifth-layer Wen Xiu disciple, Rao Shaofeng, stepped forward: "Master Ye, you're here too—why not join us on the arena?"

Li Banfeng frowned: "Why should I go up? I'm going to lose anyway—go embarrass myself?"

Wu Decheng quickly cut off the topic—this was getting dangerous: "Three versus three is fine. Qingsong, you stay off."

Fourth-layer Du Xiu Yue Qingsong stepped down from the arena and stood beside Wu Decheng.

The second whistle blew—teams were locked in, no changes allowed.

The third whistle blew—the fight began.

Fifth-layer Wu Xiu Wu Rongjin charged straight at the bulky man.

Of the three, this one seemed the only possible threat.

The bulky man didn't fight—he retreated quickly.

One of the thin men crouched low, slipped beside Wu Rongjin, and tripped him with a foot.

Wu Rongjin swung a punch at the man.

The man dodged easily and grinned: "Missed again? How dumb are you?"

Wu Rongjin kicked out again—the man dodged once more: "Blind? Where are you kicking? I'm right here!"

The man's words infuriated Wu Rongjin—he swung wildly, his stance wide open.

The man seized the opening and kicked his shin.

The blow wasn't strong—but perfectly placed. Wu Rongjin's legs tangled, and he face-planted.

The thin man laughed: "Told you—you can't even catch hot shit."

Behind him, the bulky man added: "Don't say that—he's got hot shit."

He pulled a bucket from his clothes and slammed it over Wu Rongjin's head.

The bulky, fat man behind him urged, "Don't talk like that, there's something hot."

He pulled a bucket from his clothes and placed it over Wu Rongjin's head.

Wu Rongjin gagged violently; before he could even remove the bucket, the man kicked his leg bones broken, crushed his arm, and hurled him off the arena.

Who is this man? How is he so strong?

This isn't a man—this is a shrew.

Zhongbai has a talent for makeup, disguising the shrew as a man.

To be fair, Zhongbai's makeup skills have improved greatly—even Li Banfeng didn't recognize her at first.

Appearance can be faked, but not body type. An old woman is naturally slender; even as a man, she looked even thinner.

Wu Rongjin lay on the ground, screaming: "What are you waiting for? Why won't you help me?"

He was cursing his two junior brothers—three versus three, and they just watched him get beaten.

His two junior brothers wanted to come to his aid, but they couldn't break free—they were pinned down by another slender man.

One against two, that slender man held his own perfectly.

This is Aqin, a Body Cultivator at Layer Six.

Wu Rongjin has already been thrown off the arena; by rule, he cannot return. Now it's two versus three.

Two against one couldn't gain the upper hand—how can two fight three?

The fifth-layer Literary Cultivator Rao Shaofeng roared: "You cannot overwhelm the few with the many!"

A technique of Shared Doctrine and Common Rule.

The fat, burly man holding the bucket said: "Then I won't fight."

This burly man is Xiao Genzi, only at Layer Two. If you say you won't fight, we won't make you—after all, he couldn't win anyway.

The remaining four—two versus two—stood locked in silence for a moment, then the Literary Cultivator Rao Shaofeng roared: "Rise Nine Thousand Li!"

He leapt into the air, preparing to strike from above.

Nine thousand li was impossible, but the True Word technique did lift him high—easily seven or eight meters.

Aqin, originally a grasshopper, spread her wings, leapt into the air, grabbed Rao Shaofeng's ankle with one hand, spun him around midair, and slammed him hard onto the arena.

Aqin landed immediately, stepped forward, and crushed her foot onto Rao Shaofeng's chest—he spat blood instantly.

Only one remained: fourth-layer Cheng Ziyan. He had saved a trick for himself—but seeing Aqin and the shrew advancing together, he spun around sharply and released a thick cloud of smoke.

Aqin covered her nose.

The shrew spat: "Damn it, he's a weasel! That kid spits gold fluid, and you? You let out stinking farts—who the hell can take this?!"

Both kicked Cheng Ziyan off the arena with one foot each.

Woooo!

A whistle blew—the arena match was over.

Everyone covered their noses and mouths, silent as graves.

This fight was impressive to watch—but awful to smell.

Wu Decheng roared: "Ye! You cheated!"

Li Banfeng replied: "How did I cheat?"

"You dared to deceive me!"

Li Banfeng shouted: "What did I deceive you about? Say it! Shout it!"

"I said—"

How could he say it?

Wu Decheng trembled with rage; while his attention was fixed entirely on Li Banfeng, Xiao Genzi swung his spoon and flung its contents straight into Wu Decheng's face.

"Go on, say it!"

PS: That spoonful was crucial.

(End of Chapter)