Chapter 106: Manchuan Pass, Lu San

“Wind, Forest, Fire, Mountain” each represent something different.

The term “Wind” refers to all kinds of rumors and gossip.

Two people form “Forest,” so “Forest” means seeking partners—some illicit jobs in the Jianghu are too dangerous for one man to handle alone, and you can’t summon allies in a hurry, so you come here to find a connection.

In the Jianghu, “Fire” usually means having goods and money—for example, when bandits raid a village, a profitable one is called a “Fire Village,” while an unprofitable one is a “Water Village.”

At this Wind Whisper Hall, “Fire” represents various commissions, which, though well-paid, are mostly illicit acts like robbery, murder, and fraud.

As for “Mountain,” it means immovable as a mountain—when someone in the Jianghu runs into trouble and needs to hide or find medical aid, they can get it done here, though the price is high.

This is the “shop” among the Five Flowers of the Jianghu—some operate openly to welcome guests from all directions, while others deal in illicit business.

If it involves robbery or murder, it’s a “Black Shop.”

Shops with such signage are usually part of a larger faction, distributed across different regions, and strictly follow Jianghu rules—they won’t act recklessly.

“Gentlemen, please come inside.”

The waiter opened a room and ushered the two in.

The room was small and unadorned—besides chairs and a table, there was nothing else, and even the windows had been sealed shut.

He lit a candle; the light was dim.

This arrangement was no accident.

First, for secrecy: once the door closed, it became a world unto itself, signaling no eavesdroppers; second, for safety: the room’s layout was clear, showing no traps or hidden mechanisms.

After the two sat down, the waiter immediately left, then returned shortly with a wooden tray holding a teapot, a small brazier, and several teacups.

Then he left without a word.

Wang Daoxuan shook his head: “People in Ezhou love tea. From one house to another, you’re offered tea the moment you enter. Even if you say you don’t want it, they’ll serve it anyway.”

“You don’t understand, Dao Master.”

Sha Lifei chuckled. “This is a test of the Jianghu code.”

Knock, knock, knock!

Before he finished speaking, someone knocked and entered.

It was an old man in coarse black clothing, weathered and smiling, who bowed immediately: “Gentlemen, you’ve traveled far—you must be exhausted.”

To greet someone with “you must be exhausted” means they’re from the Jianghu.

Once in the Jianghu, you’re a man with a fragile life.

The old man looked ordinary, but his words revealed a seasoned Jianghu veteran.

After sitting, he didn’t speak right away. Instead, he picked up a small teacup from the tray, glanced at the two, placed the teapot and one cup back on the tray, and set another cup outside the tray.

Wang Daoxuan immediately recognized this as a tea arrangement.

The tea arrangement is one of the Jianghu’s coded languages.

One teapot, one tray, several cups—these can form countless patterns, each with its own meaning.

Generally, there are four major categories: probing, seeking aid, visiting friends, and testing skills, each with many variations.

Each pattern has its corresponding counter-method.

Don’t underestimate this, and don’t think it’s tedious.

Traveling the Jianghu depends on human relations—more friends mean more paths; with many friends, you can roam the world.

Once you understand the Jianghu customs, even if you have not a single copper coin, you can still wander the Three Mountains and Five Peaks—there’s always a meal to be had.

Of course, the Jianghu emphasizes “speak only three-tenths of the truth,” because relationships are plentiful, grudges are plentiful, and the person smiling at you might be tied to a gang that hates you.

One moment, they greet you with a smile; the next, they swing a blade!

Though Wang Daoxuan had roamed the Jianghu for years, his path differed, and in understanding these customs, he couldn’t match Sha Lifei, let alone Li Yan.

Yet even so, he recognized the first arrangement.

The pattern was simple—it was called the Willow and Poplar Arrangement.

The Willow and Poplar Arrangement holds the universe within—it means Jianghu brotherhood excludes outsiders. Its meaning is straightforward: to test whether you’re a fellow of the Jianghu.

For Sha Lifei, this small pattern was nothing—he simply placed the outer teacup onto the tray, lifted it as if to drink, then set it back down, and gestured with his hand to invite.

The old man wasn’t surprised; he continued setting the arrangement.

The following patterns grew increasingly complex, probing both your origins and your purpose.

Though tedious, each test had its intent.

If you were a greenhorn who knew only a few rules, sorry—the price of some information would rise.

You’d suffer the loss, but you’d have to swallow it—this rule applied everywhere.

But Sha Lifei was no ordinary man—he could turn sesame seeds into watermelons, mastered Jianghu customs, and left the old man stunned.

Of course, the old man had already formed a rough idea, and began calmly washing the tea, brewing it, and pouring for the two before finally asking: “What information do you seek?”

At this point, coded language was no longer needed.

Sha Lifei didn’t waste words: “We’re returning the coffin of a Xuanmen elder to Wujiagou, but the entire village vanished—even the graves of their family are gone. What happened there?”

“Wujiagou…”

Hearing it involved Xuanmen, the old man’s expression turned solemn. He paused, dipped a finger in tea, and wrote a character on the table.

The two saw it clearly—it was the character “Tiger.”

Wang Daoxuan frowned. “Is Wujiagou plagued by tigers?”

“Not real tigers.”

The old man sighed. “But sometimes, people are more terrifying than tigers.”

“Wujiagou was nothing special—ordinary, unremarkable. Had you not mentioned it, I wouldn’t have known an Xuanmen elder had hidden there.”

“But two years ago, they found gold in the river Gou there. Though small in quantity, it caught the attention of the county commandant, Qiao Sanhu.”

“You know the imperial regulations: gold, silver, copper, and iron mines cannot be mined privately. To conceal the discovery, Qiao Sanhu first silenced those who knew, then used both overt and covert tricks to force the old and young of Wujiagou to abandon their homeland…”

He sneered. “He thought he hid it well—but how could he hide it from Jianghu brothers?”

“So that’s how it was.”

Wang Daoxuan sighed, shaking his head. “Where did the old and young of Wujiagou move to?”

The old man replied: “They moved to Ezhou.”

Sha Lifei blinked. “Why so far?”

“What else could they do?”

The old man shook his head. “Someone in Wujiagou discovered the truth and planned to go to Chang’an to expose it—but Qiao Sanhu had connections in Chang’an.”

“Upon learning this, he directly hired the Fire Bear Gang in Chang’an to kidnap the man from his inn and bury him alive outside the city.”

“Wujiagou couldn’t resist—so they fled far away.”

Sha Lifei’s anger rose. “That corrupt official is truly despicable—hasn’t any Jianghu brother taken him out?”

The old man gave a bitter laugh. “Gentlemen, you can say this here—but don’t mention it outside.”

“Qiao Sanhu is only a county commandant, but he’s not simple. His cousin is a master of the Shangshan Dao Line, well-known in Chang’an and a patron of the Prince’s Mansion.”

“Thanks to that, Qiao Sanhu holds power—he’s accepted in both the legal and illegal circles of Shangzhou, runs gambling dens at Manchuan Wharf, and has amassed great wealth.”

“Even successive county magistrates have had to bow to him—he’s known as ‘Fengyang Tiger.’”

Sha Lifei scratched his head awkwardly. “Ah… then forget it. Can’t touch him.” The old man said gravely: “To be honest, I warn all outsiders about this—lest they lose their lives.”

“Since you’re returning a corpse to its homeland, avoid such troubles. As for finding a path, though Wujiagou’s people have left, I know one Jianghu brother still on the Jinqian River—he ferries people and knows everything about Wujiagou.”

“His name is Lu San.”

“But finding him is tricky…”

…………

The abandoned village of Wujiagou, the old ancestral hall.

The cart driver, Old Meng, and the porters were drinking. The farmhouse yellow wine was cheap, the dishes were pickled vegetables and salted beans, but they drank heartily.

After returning, Sha Lifei avoided them.

They didn’t care—they were Jianghu people too, with their own rules: what shouldn’t be heard, they didn’t hear; what shouldn’t be asked, they didn’t ask.

“That’s how it is.”

!.

In another room, Sha Lifei recounted the story and shook his head: “Only one person remains in Wujiagou—but finding that kid is tricky. You’ll have to handle it yourself.”

Li Yan frowned. “What’s the trouble?”

Wang Daoxuan said: “I suspect the man is a sorcerer!”

“According to the Wind Whisper Hall’s intelligence, Lu San wasn’t originally from Wujiagou. As a child, he was abandoned on a desolate mountain and picked up by the village idiot who guarded Wujiagou. He was raised at the village’s Earth God shrine.”

“The villagers, seeing his plight, often brought him food—he grew up eating from a Company Commander. After the village idiot died, he stayed in the Earth God shrine, cleaning daily, sustained by a portion of rice from the village’s communal fields.”

“This man was strange from childhood—silent, withdrawn, fond of solitude, often muttering to himself while facing the mountains…”

“Oh?”

Li Yan was surprised. “Does the Wind Whisper Hall know so much?”

Sha Lifei continued: “Of course there’s a reason. After Wujiagou’s people left, this kid didn’t go with them—he went to Manchuan Pass and joined the Canal Guild.”

“Strange thing is, since joining the Canal Guild, he never sailed with them—he’s always ferried people on the Jinqian River, yet the entire guild treats him with great respect.”

“He’s also clashed with Qiao Sanhu’s men. Somehow, he learned martial arts and has already entered the Hidden Force realm—his skill is formidable.”

“Though the Canal Guild hasn’t sought revenge for him against Qiao Sanhu, they’ve clearly stated they’ll protect him. Qiao Sanhu’s men see him as a thorn in their side, and several covert attempts to kill him have failed.”

“Worse, he has no fixed abode, is mysterious—even the Canal Guild doesn’t know what he does daily.”

“He’s extremely cautious—if anything feels off, he jumps into the river and escapes. If we go, we probably won’t find him.”

“I see.”

Li Yan looked up at the sky, saw the sun had set into twilight, pondered for a moment, and said, “Alright, I’ll set off now.”

Sha Lifei stared in surprise, “So soon? Why not wait until tomorrow?”

Li Yan shook his head. “We have other matters. We can’t linger here too long. For me, night and day are no different.”

Saying this, he packed his things, stepped outside, mounted his horse, tugged the reins, and his figure grew ever smaller in the setting sun…

…………

Manchuan Pass lies a hundred li southeast of Fengyang County.

When Li Yan arrived, night had already fallen.

Amid the mountains, an ancient town was divided by a river—its area substantial, still brightly lit under the night sky, with boats crowding the water, fishing lights flickering like stars.

Even before approaching, the official road was already bustling.

Mule and horse caravans from the north, having traveled thousands of li, arrived only at night; dozens of carts lined up in a row, their personnel numerous, all weathered by wind and dust.

Such large caravans always had their own guards; seeing Li Yan ride up, they immediately gripped their sword hilts, watching him warily.

Li Yan cast a casual glance and paid no mind.

The road was congested; he could only move forward with the flow of people.

Within the caravan, a greenhorn fresh out of the Jianghu gazed at the prosperous town ahead, eyes sparkling. “Senior brother, this dock is huge!”

The senior brother clearly enjoyed showing off. “This is a land-and-water dock. Goods from the north come by land, then turn south here and switch to water transport—that’s why it’s called a land-and-water dock.”

“Manchuan Pass connects north and south. Since ancient times, it’s been a strategic battleground—naturally prosperous. See? This side is the land dock, that side the water dock. This half-street is called ‘Qin’ Street, the other half ‘Chu’ Street…”

“I know—‘loyal to Qin in the morning, Chu at night!’”

“Fool, think you’re so smart! Remember this: don’t cause trouble once you enter town. This place gathers gangs from north and south—dragons and snakes mixed together. People die every night.”

“Huh?!”

“Don’t be too scared—stick with your senior brother. Once you’re here, our mission’s done. I’ll take you out for some fun afterward.”

“Go drink?”

“Idiot, go find a girl to sleep with!”

“Hahaha!”

Seeing the boy’s face flush red, those around burst into laughter, teasing, “Lu kid, tonight the girl might have to pay you.”

“W-why?”

“Rule: if you take a virgin’s cherry, how can you not pay?”

“Hahaha…”

The group laughed freely, making the boy turn beet red, wishing he could dig a hole and crawl into it.

Li Yan overheard half of it and grew distracted.

The information from Fengwen Hall was too scant.

As the caravan men had just said, Manchuan Pass gathered all manner of people—numerous, mixed, with gangs from both north and south, plus merchants, dock laborers… it was essentially a condensed Jianghu.

Finding someone here wouldn’t be easy.

Where should he begin looking for this lead…?

As Li Yan pondered, he passed through Manchuan Pass’s massive archway.

There was no wall here; straight ahead stretched an old street, with teahouses, taverns, brothels, and gambling dens glowing brightly, voices loud and chaotic—no less vibrant than ancient night markets from his past life.

Not far across stood the Mule and Horse Guild.

This was the territory of the cart and caravan gangs, who also operated a service: storing horses, charging according to stable quality and feed grade.

After stabling his horse, Li Yan headed toward Qin Street.

He had a vague idea: besides family, the ones most familiar with you are likely your enemies.

Lu San was hiding in Manchuan Pass, constantly clashing with Qiao Sanhu’s men—probably waiting for a chance to avenge his fellow villagers.

And Qiao Sanhu’s men were surely watching his movements constantly…

As he thought, he suddenly caught a familiar scent—but couldn’t place who it belonged to.

Li Yan quickly looked up and saw, among the crowd, a middle-aged man in blue robes striding forward.

His face was thin, skin yellowish, yet his posture upright; two followers trailed behind him, radiating authority.

He recognized this man.

It was Han Kun, boss of the Xianyang Canal Guild!

(End of Chapter)