Chapter 5

Every prosperous city is like a jungle, with unseen corners; in those shadows lurk countless creatures waiting to hunt or be hunted, ever ready to strike, gaining prey through slaughter—or being attacked and becoming someone else's prey.

"Halt." Two swordsmen standing at the gate, their chests embroidered with green bamboo patterns, raised their hands to block Zhou Shuo's path.

"Kid, do you even know where this is? Don't you want to live?" a swordsman shouted, lifting his chin. In the jianghu, in Xinzheng City, their Green Bamboo Gang may not be a major sect, but they are a top local tyrant; anyone dares to come here.

"Green Bamboo Gang! I know—I came here today to see Ye Jiujie, your chief. I've heard his nine-section whip is formidable, so I came to ask for some pointers." Zhou Shuo smiled, eyes narrowed, raised both hands, shifted his sword-in-sheath from left to right, and performed a cupped-fist salute.

"What?" The two swordsmen heard Zhou Shuo's words, their brains short-circuited instantly, then their eyes widened.

"How, my words aren't clear enough?" Zhou Shuo looked at the two glaring fellows and raised his eyebrows.

"What do you think this place is? We—" a youth glared, words forming then stopping, for the Green Bamboo Gang is not a martial arts school but a criminal hall; coming here to compare martial arts makes no sense.

"You two, are you planning to stand in for your chief and exchange a few moves with me?" Zhou Shuo looked at the underling whose words trailed off, feeling a pang of pity—these fellows, born in this era, perhaps suffer an unfortunate fate, living day to day without knowing what the next moment will bring, pitiful and lamentable!

"You, you wait here; I, I'll go report." Faced with Zhou Shuo's words, the two lackeys stepped back in unison, then one blurted out, "These jianghu folk are the worst to provoke; we can't stand against them, better go find the boss to handle this."

"Fine, please hurry." Zhou Shuo watched the lackey run inside, then turned his gaze to the one left behind.

"Don't act recklessly; let me tell you, our chief is extremely formidable—with a single nine-section whip he can sweep a whole li-street; even the iron boss of Guanshan Pass and the hall master of Sanmen Gate dare not rashly invade us." The lackey, meeting Zhou Shuo's gaze, grew flustered and warned him not to offend rashly.

"And then?" Zhou Shuo lifted his head, gazing at the somewhat dilapidated courtyard. In Xinzheng City there are dozens of streets, at least twenty or thirty gangs; these gangs, whether open or covert, have some income, but the Green Bamboo Gang is merely a band of tough farmers united under chief Ye Jiujie— they can't do business, rely solely on protection fees, spend all day fighting, and the worse they get, the closer they are to disbanding.

"And then, what 'and then'?" The lackey looked at the man raising his head, followed his gaze to their own lair, swallowed and replied—but before he finished, hurried footsteps sounded behind him; he snapped his head around to see people pouring out of the courtyard and instinctively shouted, "Boss!"

"Yeah, Chief Ye." Zhou Shuo watched the man in cloth embroidered with bamboo, a chain whip at his hand, a beard on his jaw, come running from the ruined courtyard, and he raised his hand in another salute.

"You want to spar with me?" Ye Jiujie sized up the man, somewhat uncertain; he claimed to have learned a few moves from someone, had been struggling in Xinzheng for two years, already prepared to die at another's hand, but never imagined someone would actually come to challenge him.

"Not bad, Chief Ye, would you instruct me?" Zhou Shuo sized up Ye Jiujie, using his own knowledge to judge: the fellow's legs are long, the arm wielding the chain whip is muscular, suited for running and arm strength, but his overall build lacks coordination, his martial skill isn't high; still, since this world's martial system differs from that of the Yang God realm, I must be cautious.

"A Ye like me isn't exactly a notable figure; I dare not accept the role of instructor, but there's something I don't understand: why would you seek me out?" Seeing Zhou Shuo appraise him, Ye Jiujie carefully chose his words—today's challenge left him bewildered.

"Simple: my martial ability is lacking, my confidence insufficient, so I want to fight the weakest person in this city." Zhou Shuo gave a kind smile; instantly, the beard on his cheeks flushed red.

"Then no more talk—come on!" Ye Jiujie, face red, flicked his wrist; the nine-section copper whip in his hand rang and scattered to the ground. Though he runs the gang poorly, he always had a bit of confidence in his strength, believing a single nine-section whip could dominate a street; being looked down upon like this left nothing more to say.

Zhou Shuo watched the man directly unfurl the nine-section whip, gripped his sword's hilt, pointed the blade-with-sheath at his opponent—there are too many killing techniques in swordsmanship; he couldn't just kill this guy with one strike, and had no alternative; without the sword he lacked confidence to beat him.

Faced with Zhou Shuo not drawing his sword, seeming to show off, Ye Jiujie's face darkened slightly; his right wrist jerked, the scattered nine-section copper whip on the ground sprang up, its sharp, stiff tip aiming at the opponent's gate—yet Zhou Shuo shifted his body aside and avoided it.

"Hey!" Ye Jiujie shouted as Zhou Shuo swayed to dodge the whip attack, his right arm bursting outward; the nine-section copper whip instantly carried a strong wind, sweeping horizontally at Zhou Shuo.

The linked copper whip, in Ye Jiujie's hands, instantly became like a violent bolt of lightning; Zhou Shuo swayed to dodge, while Ye Jiujie swung his right arm, spun his body, and the long whip traced a circle in the air, bringing an even fiercer whoosh as it lashed back at the opponent.

"Interesting!" Zhou Shuo swayed repeatedly, watching the whip grow stronger and Ye Jiujie's surrounding aura surge; he felt amused—this fellow's whip has no technique, only surging violent force, nothing outstanding; yet that very force churns the air into violent turbulence, making his martial art somewhat resemble Daoist methods.

Ye Jiujie's ability to run a gang is absolutely lacking, yet he manages to hold one or two streets in Xinzheng City and scrape together enough to eat, thanks to his personal strength and stubborn character; his violent wind-and-thunder whip technique leaves few able to withstand it, his obstinate nature makes him hard to finish off in one go, and no one wants to provoke him.

The airflow had turned viscous; Zhou Shuo narrowed his eyes, watching Ye Jiujie execute the whip technique, then suddenly drew his long sword and flashed two blades of cold light—Ye Jiujie instantly felt his hand lighten, the nine-section whip in his grip lopped off several sections, the cut perfectly smooth; before he could react, a cold-light sword was already at his throat, the skin touching the blade feeling sharp stings.

"You, you..." Ye Jiujie stared at the sword at his neck—about three fingers wide, its blade marked with intersecting vertical and horizontal grain, the edge flashing cold light—and gasped; this is a fine sword, an excellent sword, that a wielder of such a renowned blade would come to spar with him!

"Um, um, I know—I have the advantage of a sharp sword, I'm wrong, but without a sword I can't beat you!" Zhou Shuo nodded as Ye Jiujie inhaled, helping him finish his sentence, yet he had no intention of sheathing his sword; this world is inherently unfair—if you have an edge, why not use it?

"Me, what do you want?" Ye Jiujie's breath caught in his throat, near fainting, but feeling the sword at his neck he rolled his eyes and spoke; having long dwelt in the underworld, he had prepared himself for death, yet being ready doesn't mean he can face it calmly.

"What martial arts have you practiced?" Zhou Shuo looked at the cowed gang leader, satisfied, and nodded.

"I once learned a couple of moves from an unnamed master." Ye Jiujie glanced at the sword at his neck.

"Hmm, could you teach me?" Zhou Shuo looked at the gang leader, smoothly sheathed his ice-pattern steel sword, then asked with a smile.

"I don't know how to teach; otherwise I'd have taught my brothers already." Ye Jiujie watched the sword being moved away, exhaled in relief, yet felt uneasy and amazed—this fellow possesses such a fine sword, why would he want to learn these crude techniques from me?

"No problem—just tell me how to train; if you dare lie to me, heh, Ye Jiujie, you don't know my background, right?" Zhou Shuo waved his ice-pattern steel sword, seeing a glint rise in Ye Jiujie's eyes.

"I don't know." Ye Jiujie looked at the light in the man's eyes, involuntarily feeling a jolt of nerves, dazedly shaking his head—today's match was completely unexpected, and will be a major event in his life.

"But I know yours." Zhou Shuo swept his gaze over the dozen or so Green Bamboo Gang members present, an evil smile spreading across his face, while Ye Jiujie's visage instantly blanched, and the gang's lackeys retreated a step; the Green Bamboo Gang's fortunes are poor—brothers have fled or died, leaving only a few last brothers at his side, the ones he cherishes most.

"But rest assured, I bear you no ill will; if you promise not to conceal anything from me, I might yet grant you an opportunity for wealth and honor." Zhou Shuo looked at Ye Jiujie's face draining of color, shook his long sword, suddenly recalling his timidity before He Wusheng, and unconsciously emulated that lesson—when dealing with enemies, one needs not only a big stick but also a carrot.

"Okay, okay." Ye Jiujie watched Zhou Shuo's sword waving, making the hairs on his body stand up, and stammered a nod—man as the cutting board, he as the fish; as long as he could preserve his own life and his brothers', he would accept whatever came.