Chapter 273: Thoughts

Wu Decheng wiped the golden fluid from his face and stared silently at Night Shopkeeper.

His goal today was to kill this Night man, earn credit from Lu Mao, reclaim the reputation Tang Pei had thrown away, and seize his position in the Qingshou Society.

He lost on the arena, but killing Night now still wasn't too late.

Fourth-layer poison cultivator Yue Qingsong reminded from the side: "Master, the other disciples have all arrived—we can strike at any moment."

Wu Decheng clenched his fists, then finally calmed himself, ordering others to carry away the injured disciples and leave the arena.

He had decided to kill Night Shopkeeper just moments ago—why had he changed his mind so quickly?

Wu Decheng had walked the Jianghu; he could read the situation clearly.

He didn't care who pointed fingers—victors are kings, losers are bandits—he understood that well.

But Wu Decheng knew killing Night now was nearly impossible.

His earlier plan to kill him relied on the assumption that Night would be careless.

Now it was clear: Night wasn't careless at all—he had set a trap for him.

Those two thin men on the arena weren't to be trifled with.

Night appeared to have no backup, but his reinforcements were likely hidden among the crowd.

Lingering here would bring no advantage—Wu Decheng withdrew with decisive speed.

Seeing his hasty retreat, Li Ban lowered his hat brim and smiled.

A light breeze blew—Li Ban's smile vanished; he gathered his people and turned to leave.

This place reeked too strongly—it was hostile to the Hundred Flavors Luminous Art.

The arena fighters were gone; the spectators had dispersed.

Only a few cleaners remained, silently worrying.

"Do we keep the arena?"

"Let it sit for two days—it'll be fine."

…

Back at the newspaper office, Bai Qiusheng hurried to finish his article, Ma Wu rushed to print the papers.

After the evening edition was sent out, Li Ban had wine and food brought in and set up several tables in the factory.

Honestly, the factory's canteen was sizable and the atmosphere decent—today's feast was to honor the three who fought.

Xiao Gen, with a guilty look, said: "I didn't help much—it was all thanks to the two sisters."

Li Ban, with approval, said: "Genzi, put down that bucket first—"

"Today, all three of you earned top merit—eat, drink, and enjoy yourselves freely; your red envelopes won't be forgotten."

Aqin glanced at Ma Wu and lowered her head: "I don't want a red envelope."

The street-shouting woman spat: "Shameless! If you don't want a red envelope, what do you want? Do you think you can eat just by relying on a man's scraps?"

Aqin snapped: "Old hag, why do you speak so foully? It's a great day today—I've no patience for your bickering!"

Today truly was a fine day—the crowd ate and drank heartily until past two in the morning, then finally fell asleep.

Over an hour later, just before four in the morning, a scent drifted into Li Ban's room.

He came.

Knew he'd come tonight.

Knew he couldn't let it go.

He lost face badly—he couldn't bear it.

Xiao Gen's spoon on the arena was meant to guard against this very move!

Li Ban stood at the door and quietly opened his Personal Dwelling.

Wu Decheng crept up the stairs, glanced around, then arrived at Li Ban's door.

He pushed open the door—the room was pitch black; he glimpsed faint mist.

Strange—why was there mist inside this room?

Wu Decheng's heart tightened—he started to retreat, when suddenly his calf exploded in pain—a sharp object hooked into his shinbone.

He struggled to break free, but the force was far stronger than his own; he was dragged bodily into the room.

CLANG!

The door shut.

HISS~

Li Ban struck a match and lit a cigarette.

He casually lit a candle beside him.

By the candlelight, Wu Decheng saw the room's furnishings.

A tiny room, with a bed and a phonograph.

The phonograph needle had hooked his shinbone and yanked back sharply—he collapsed onto the floor.

Li Ban sat on the bed, watching Wu Decheng calmly: "The arena is over—why are you still coming to me?"

Wu Decheng gritted his teeth: "You betrayed your word—you despicable scoundrel deserve to die!"

"Explain—how did I betray you?"

"What was our original agreement?"

"We clearly agreed: three arena matches—you win the first, I win the second, the third ends in a draw."

"You refused—you said you wanted the first win. I agreed to let you take the first—wasn't that the deal?"

Wu Decheng said: "I already let you have the first win!"

"Yes, you let me have the first win—then the second should've been mine, the third a draw—wasn't that fair?"

"Nonsense! If you let me have the first, the second should've been mine!"

Li Ban shook his head: "That's not how I understood it. The fault lies in your failure to clarify."

"It's obvious—why need clarification?"

Li Ban smiled: "You always hate to be clear.

In the first match, you deliberately didn't explain the rules—exploited my status as an outsider unfamiliar with customs.

With Tang Pei, you also left out key details—he was humiliated at the cinema and desperate to save face, so you misled him into your trap.

You used my hands to beat him badly—he lost face, then you reclaimed yours in the second match—wasn't that your plan?"

Wu Decheng sneered: "So what? You didn't lose anything!"

Li Ban continued: "In the second match, you still didn't clarify—whether it was life-or-death or just victory.

You brought in killers to strike hard, hoping to kill me while I was unprepared—wasn't that your intent?"

"Don't slander me!" Wu Decheng still refused to admit it.

Li Ban laughed: "You're already in my room—why not speak honestly?

I'll tell you straight: I planned the same. If you hadn't run fast today, your corpse would've been lying in the street."

Wu Decheng fell silent.

Li Ban walked over with a teapot: "Why silent? Thirsty? Have some tea?"

Wu Decheng suddenly leapt up, trying to fight Li Ban to the death.

His leg was still hooked by the phonograph needle.

He needed to close in for hand-to-hand combat.

But this was a Zhai Xiu's home.

He had no chance to strike.

Li Ban didn't even rise from the bed—he kicked out, and Wu Decheng crashed to the floor.

Wu Decheng rose again, his right hand fumbling inside his robe, as if reaching for a weapon.

Li Ban drew his sickle and slashed him across the body before he could react—poison seeped in; Wu Decheng froze.

The phonograph sighed: "Husband, so valiant—you didn't even need little slave to lift a finger."

The old teapot said: "This fool still won't behave—give him a hot cup of tea to warm him up."

Li Ban poured tea over Wu Decheng.

Wu Decheng screamed.

This old man had high cultivation—but even he couldn't withstand this.

Wait—this wasn't just about cultivation. The teapot's tea seemed hotter than before.

Is the old teapot still cultivating?

I'll have to talk to him properly one day.

Li Ban looked at Wu Decheng: "Answer a few questions honestly, and I might spare your life.

First—why does the Qingshou Society target Blood Spear Detective? It's just a film—what did it do to offend you?"

Wu Decheng gasped: "Because the film corrupts public morals…"

Before he finished, Li Ban poured more tea over him: "Morals? That's why you smashed the cinema?"

Wu Decheng cried: "I speak truth—it was Elder Lu's order!"

"Elder Lu? Lu Mao? You're an elder too—he's an elder, Tang Pei's an elder—why does he give you orders?"

"Elders have different ranks. Elder Lu is the Grand Elder—he stands above us. Tang Pei stands above me."

"How many elders are there in the Qingshou Society?"

"I don't know the total—usually two per region, one literary, one martial—the literary elder usually ranks above the martial elder."

Some small places might have only one Elder, but in a big place like Lüshuicheng, there are three Elders—all Senior Elders—with Lu Mao the highest in status.

"So Lu Mao is the leader of the Qingshou Society?"

Wu Decheng shook his head. "The leader of the Qingshou Society is the Sage."

Li Banfeng wrinkled his nose—not just because of Wu Decheng's stench, but also because the word "Sage" carried a heavy, foul odor.

"Which Sage? The one from Jianren Gang?"

Wu Decheng said, "I've never seen the Sage. I've been in the Qingshou Society for twenty-one years and never laid eyes on him."

At his rank, he still couldn't see the Sage.

The Sage was so hard to meet that Li Banfeng recalled the scene on Sage Peak, where a crowd knelt waiting to glimpse the Holy One.

Li Banfeng asked more questions about Heishipo and the Qingshou Society, and Wu Decheng answered them all truthfully.

The Qingshou Society and Heishipo were Lu Mao's most vital assets, especially Heishipo, where nearly half the factories and mines were under his control—this was why he could stand toe-to-toe with the two young masters of the Lu family.

But the residents of Heishipo were peculiar; according to Wu Decheng, they were uneducated and among the most ferocious folk in Pulu Province.

Especially since hidden among them were cultivators with formidable cultivation bases; if pushed too hard, matters could spiral out of control. Thus, to resolve disputes in Heishipo, the Qingshou Society usually resorted to public duels—methods like Wu Decheng's underhanded tactics were rare.

Wu Decheng looked at Li Banfeng. "A gentleman's word is as good as a horse's whip. I've answered all your questions. Let me go."

"Tang Pei is already a broken man. From now on, Heishicheng is mine. You can print whatever films you want, publish whatever newspapers you like—all the book and newspaper trade in Heishicheng belongs to you. What do you say?"

As he finished speaking, Li Banfeng seemed genuinely tempted.

He sat back on the bed, lips curling into a smile.

Wu Decheng had used a technique.

Changji flew into a rage, scalding steam blistering Wu Decheng's entire body.

Li Banfeng stopped Changji and suddenly spoke.

"This old man doesn't seem so bad. Let him go."

"Yeah, he said the book and newspaper trade in Heishicheng is ours—that's a profitable business."

"Better to spare when you can. Let him go. You like Heishipo anyway—stay here. Having someone watching your back isn't bad, is it?"

Li Banfeng engaged in a deep internal debate, leaving Wu Decheng dumbfounded.

Changji, terrified, looked at Li Banfeng. "Master, what's wrong? Did that old rascal hurt you?"

"No!" Li Banfeng continued his internal debate while still speaking to his wife.

When the debate concluded, Li Banfeng walked over to Wu Decheng. "I've thought it through—I've decided not to let you go."

"Heishipo is indeed a good place. Without you and your kind, it'll become even better!"

"Wife, it's time to eat!"

As he spoke, Changji grinned wickedly and began eating.

Wu Decheng screamed for a while, then fell silent.

After devouring his soul, his wife asked Li Banfeng whether to retain his spiritual essence.

Li Banfeng found the Qingshou Society members repulsive and originally had no intention of keeping the essence—when the Blood-Soaked Pendulum suddenly spoke:

"Master, he's a high-level Mind Cultivator. Throwing him away is a waste. Let me have him."

Li Banfeng froze. He knew the Pendulum could drink blood—but when had it learned to consume spiritual essence?

Changji laughed. "You little vixen—have you been improving your cultivation since following the Master?"

The Pendulum replied respectfully. "Madam, I dare not lie—I've changed somewhat. Some techniques seem to have returned. I'll ask for your guidance another day."

The Pendulum's words pleased Changji. She wrapped the spiritual essence in a wisp of steam and delivered it to the Pendulum. "You little vixen—you're lucky!"

The corpse couldn't be wasted. Li Banfeng brought over Honglian.

Honglian had waited a long time; layers of dew had formed on her body.

But when she smelled Wu Decheng's stench, she grew disgusted and hesitated to open her petals.

Changji grew angry. "You little bitch—you're picky now? This man's cultivation isn't low. Good stuff like this doesn't come every day!"

Li Banfeng snorted. "Then go hungry!"

After a moment's hesitation, Honglian swallowed the corpse.

Ripples of light spread as Honglian began refining the corpse. Li Banfeng wanted to be intimate with his wife, but found Honglian an eyesore—he tossed her casually into the second chamber.

In the second chamber, Honglian spat two jets of dew, then began refining the corpse.

After a while, Honglian suddenly shuddered.

In the second chamber, faintly, there seemed to be a thought—but it was impossible to identify what kind.

PS: How could there be someone else's thought inside my body? That's terrifying!

(End of Chapter)