Chapter 667: A Dark and Windy Night

Night hung low, with occasional barks of dogs drifting from the darkness.

Three young ruffians, arms slung over each other's shoulders, swaggered into Hou Family's back alley.

The short, stout leader bit a reed stem, shoved his hand into his open collar, and incessantly rubbed away sweat and grime, "This… this new girl at Cui Xitang? Her tits are damn soft. And if I just… suck a little more Fushou ointment, I'll feel so good."

But the slender tattooed ruffian behind him looked hesitant, "Big brother, haven't you heard? Yan Laosan and his crew got hooked at the docks today, and they died not long after returning—their bodies are still floating in the river."

"In the past two months, several have died one after another. Maybe we should stop using it…"

Slap!

Before he finished speaking, the short, stout man slapped him hard, cursing, "I… I say your head's been kicked by a donkey! This stuff—once you stop, it's worse than death. I won't suffer that!"

With that, he shoved the skinny one hard and kept walking.

The scar-faced ruffian wrapped an arm around the skinny one, half-chuckling, half-reassuring, "Brother, don't think about that nonsense. When we drank blood wine and joined up, we already tied our heads to our belts."

"Either way, we're gonna die—might as well live as wildly as we can!"

This sounded like self-destruction, but it was true.

These ruffians of Jintian were no great cultivators, but each one was a stubborn bastard.

Cultivators' bodies were as precious as oil, yet they didn't care.

Drawing death lots, brawling, jumping into boiling oil, branding themselves with red-hot iron to prove their grit… horrifying acts piled up endlessly—all for face and profit, they'd ignore anything.

Their only rule: never back down.

Even if someone gouged out your eyeball and stomped it on the ground, you had to pick it up and swallow it without flinching.

Live today, die tomorrow—if you don't enjoy yourself now, you'll regret it.

Just today, when news spread that the Wang family planned to flee, their boss didn't bother with it—he told them to deliver a warning. The three took the chance to extort some silver.

The silver they got, if spent carefully, would cover a family of three for a year.

But they wanted to burn it all tonight—even their gambling debts didn't matter anymore…

After walking a short distance, a row of bright red lanterns appeared ahead.

This stretch of Hou Family's alley had once been home to wealthy families, but years ago, a demon-man appeared in Jintian, skilled in fire arts and teleportation. Every night he slipped into these rich households, raping countless girls and women.

Later, when the matter came to light, experts from the Xuan Sect set a trap to corner him.

Trapped with no escape up or down, he set fire to the entire block, burning down several homes, killing and injuring many—it became one of the great Xuan Sect cases of Tianjin's history.

Since then, Hou Family's alley had declined.

The poor couldn't afford it; the rich found it unlucky. Only brothel madams saw opportunity here, buying up the properties and moving in, hanging lanterns everywhere, and business boomed.

One of them was a three-court sihe courtyard converted into a brothel.

Reed fluff stuffed into the gaps of blue bricks, two strings of silk lanterns hanging from the eaves—the candlelight shining through the paper bearing the characters "Cui Xitang" made the pimp's mole glisten oily.

The three staggered up; the pimp immediately bowed and rushed forward.

"Master Wu, it's been a long time since you came."

"Shut… shut your mouth!"

The short, stout man slapped the pimp's shoulder, "Bring… bring all the new girls. Good wine, good food—bring it all out."

He patted his chest, "I've… got plenty of silver!"

The pimp beamed, bowing deeply, "Perfect—it's crab season, Master Wu, please come inside!"

"Good… good… hahaha…"

Under the pimp's lead, the three stepped over the lantern-decorated lintel.

In a distant dark alley, Li Yan also stepped out slowly.

After learning the truth from the Wang family, he immediately began tracking them.

Though these three ruffians had a head start, they couldn't escape his pursuit.

But what angered Li Yan was—he'd hoped to follow them to their master, only to find these fools had rushed straight here to indulge after getting the money!

Killing intent flickered in Li Yan's eyes; he vanished into the shadows.

There was no need for teleportation to sneak into this brothel.

He unleashed hidden force beneath his feet, his body shooting like an arrow—silent, swift—two steps brought him to the wall's base; he leapt, stepped on the courtyard wall, and scaled to the roof beams in an instant.

During his time hiding at Zhao Wanfang's, Li Yan had become very familiar with brothels.

By type, they were divided into "government-run" and "private."

The government-run ones were the famed Jiaofangsi.

But these were limited; most were private, with strict hierarchies.

The top tier were called "Qingyin Xiaoban" and "Shuyu"—they "sold art, not bodies." The women weren't just beautiful; they mastered music, chess, calligraphy, and painting, entertaining literati and wealthy merchants in lavish settings.

Often, they were venues for powerful men to host banquets and conduct business.

The most skilled women had wide networks, helping broker deals, even trading intelligence—like Zhao Wanfang's Jin Yanzi Gate.

The next tier combined artistry and sex; their clients were small merchants and scholars.

The lowest tier? Obviously located near docks with heavy foot traffic, crude and squalid, housing aging, sickly women who served porters and laborers—called "Ding Peng."

This one was third-tier.

Large, crowded with all kinds of riffraff, chaotic in appearance.

In the front courtyard's central yard, a cypress wood gambling table stood under bright candles; men chewed pancake snacks as they bet, the scent of scallions mingling with sweat, shouts rising straight to the second floor.

Every time a gambler won, the women in his arms would lavish praise.

The central courtyard was relatively secluded.

The east, west, north, and south wings had been turned into small private rooms, each with peach-red silk curtains at the door; through the propped-open windows, you could see wine and dishes on tables, and heated couches for smoking.

The back courtyard was where the girls changed and slept.

Rows of clotheslines stood thickly, draped with all kinds of clothing and bedding.

Li Yan crouched low as he crossed the roof, then took a deep breath, gazing at the second-floor central courtyard.

Inside the "Tian Zi Xing Da" room at the far end, the decor was clearly more luxurious—woolen carpets covered the floor, but beneath them, half a reed mat showed through.

A springtime painting hung on the wall, its erotic imagery glowing warmly in candlelight.

A copper brazier burned pine shavings, curling the edges of the paper cutouts reading "Wealth and Prosperity" nailed to the beams.

On the smoking couch, the short, stout man lay sprawled, eyes half-lidded, the copper pipe's ember flickering dimly.

In nearly every other room, someone was smoking Fushou opium.

Seeing this, Li Yan's killing intent could no longer be hidden.

He now fully confirmed: the Jinghai Gang was definitely linked to "Jianmu."

And this force was substantial.

The foreign merchant Mendes, who carried the aura of a demon spirit, and the Tianjin naval troops—perhaps both were involved.

Using brothels and gambling dens to spread opium.

The officials of Tianjin must be in on it too!

Because of his past life's trauma, he loathed this poison with every fiber of his being.

He never imagined that in another world, this poison had spread to Shenzhou!

Watching the short, stout man float into euphoria, Li Yan no longer hesitated—he leapt down.

Inside the room, the girl in peach satin had just brought in a fruit tray when she suddenly saw a dark shadow flip through the window frame—she gasped to scream, but her vision went black and she collapsed.

After knocking out the girl, Li Yan turned to the short, stout man.

The ruffian was alert even in his haze—he reached for his knife.

But as he tried to roll over, he froze—unable to move.

His vision darkened slowly, as if his consciousness sank into the deep sea, surrounded by utter darkness and silence.

This feeling was like death itself.

The short, stout man was usually brutal—he'd once carved raw meat from his own thigh and swallowed it alive during a fight, never flinching, always saying, "I'll be a hero again in twenty years."

But this feeling terrified him.

Li Yan stood coldly beside him.

He had suppressed the man's soul with the Soul-Stealing Cord—used such a heavy-handed method not only to avoid noise, but to extract information.

After several breaths, Li Yan withdrew the Soul-Stealing Cord.

The short, stout man slowly woke, eyes wide with terror.

Those few moments felt like a full day to him.

"Y-You… who are you?"

Sweat beaded on his forehead; he gritted his teeth and asked.

"No nonsense. I ask, you answer."

Li Yan asked coldly, "Who ordered you to kill Wu Qu of Cangzhou?"

"Brother, I… I don't know…"

The short, stout man dared not admit it—but before he finished speaking, his vision turned black again.

Li Yan said nothing—he activated the Soul-Stealing Cord once more.

After several cycles, the man finally broke, "I'll tell… I'll tell!"

"It was Third Master who ordered me!"

Faced with this terrifying technique, the short, stout man's stuttering vanished.

Li Yan narrowed his eyes, "Who is Third Master?"

The short, stout man gritted his teeth, "Jinghai Gang—Yu Wenhai. He lights the third incense stick; everyone in the gang calls him Third Master. This… this hero, this has nothing to do with me!"

"No more nonsense!"

Li Yan scolded again and pressed on with his questioning.

Finally, he learned the full account from the man's mouth.

A certain Zhou sorcerer had come from afar to Jincheng several years ago, exploiting the Wang family's yin disturbance layout to lure and kill living yin officers. At first he was cautious, but after the Huangquan organization collapsed, he grew bolder and more brazen.

Soon after, the Jinghai Gang somehow learned of this.

They first took control of the Zhou sorcerer, then brought in Wu Qu's friend, subjecting him to cruel torture and threats until he broke, luring Wu Qu from Cangzhou.

Afterwards, the Zhou sorcerer was silenced.

All of this was ordered by the third boss of the Jinghai Gang, Yu Wenhai.

Three young thugs helped with the dirty work and thus knew the details.

But who actually carried out the killing remained unknown.

"Why did Yu Wenhai do this?"

Li Yan asked again in a low voice.

"I… I don't know how I'd know that?"

Seeing Li Yan hadn't killed him, the short, stout man grew defiant again.

But before the words were out, Li Yan raised his hand and lightly pressed it against the man's forehead.

Boom!

Qi burst forth—the man's head exploded instantly, his corpse crashing heavily to the ground.

"Big brother, what happened?"

The cry drew the other two men.

They ran from the adjacent room, but as they reached the door, a flash of cold light pierced through the wooden panel, driving straight into the scar-faced man's forehead, instantly robbing him of consciousness.

The skinny man panicked and turned to flee.

But behind him came a sharp crack—Li Yan had shattered the door, used the technique of shrinking distance, slashed his blade, and the skinny man's head flew high, landing in the central courtyard.

"Murder!"

The prostitutes who had come to watch screamed.

Li Yan ignored them, pulled a black cloth over half his face, leapt forward in three strides, kicked open another door, and with a flash of blade, beheaded the opium smoker who was just pulling on his pants.

Wu Qu's death and the rampant opium trade had ignited a dark fire in Li Yan's heart.

He didn't care whether these opium smokers were innocent—he kicked down doors, raised his blade, and killed room by room.

Blood sprayed everywhere, candlelight flickered.

The fallen candles ignited one private chamber after another.

Amidst flames and thick smoke, screams, pleas, and the sound of blades piercing flesh rang continuously.

"Murder!"

The panicked cries grew louder and more chaotic.

There were bound to be enforcers kept in the brothel.

But these burly men, rushing in with clubs, were cut down by Li Yan like chickens—one slash, one kill—others fled in terror, scrambling out with the clients and prostitutes.

Suddenly, a roar came from afar:

"Who the hell dares disrupt my place?!"

A massive figure leapt from another brothel, using the skill of scaling eaves and walking on walls, leaping twice, and arriving in the central courtyard.

The newcomer was a one-eyed giant, dressed in brocade robes, wearing tiger-head boots, a green-scaled leather groin guard at his waist, a full beard, broad shoulders and thick waist, his fists as large as mortar pots.

Thud!

When he landed, reeds and fluff flew from the cracks in the bricks.

Seeing the courtyard littered with corpses, the one-eyed man flew into a rage.

"You little bastard, I'll crack your skull open!"

Before he finished speaking, he lunged forward, stomped his heel into the ground, producing a sound like tearing silk.

His boots were ripped apart by his force, and his entire body shot forward with a whistle.

Behind him, a whirlwind rose, swirling with dust and smoke.

Duli Tongbei?

From the opening move, Li Yan immediately recognized its origin.

Jincheng was a melting pot of all sects and schools; martial artists were plentiful.

Duli Town by the Nan Yun River and Xiaonanhe Village in Xiqing District were famous for their martial traditions.

This Duli Tongbei originated in Duli Town.

Legend says two masters—one monk, one Daoist—traveling through the land, merged the Taizu Fist style with local Tongbei and Shaolin techniques, creating a style defined by "Taizu Fist Tongbei Power."

Power originates from the soles of the feet, travels through the waist and back, and channels into the arms, forming a spiraling penetrating force.

It carried great renown in the martial world, with many cultivators in the north.

The man was using Duli Tongbei's "Stomp-Spiral Power."

Seeing the man charge, Li Yan raised his blade directly.

"Let's see what you've got!"

The man suddenly sneered and changed tactics, spinning to evade the blade's tip, launching a "Lotus Flip Back Kick" toward Li Yan's chest—before the wind even reached him, the sole of his shoe emitted a foul stench.

His shoes had been modified—with poisoned blade tips.

Worse still, as Li Yan sidestepped, the man spun back into stance, his back muscles rippling like waves, his right arm snapping out like a whip with a crack, delivering a "Tongbei Single Chop"—the edge of his palm wrapped in explosive qi, slicing straight for Li Yan's throat.

He had clearly entered the Hua Jing realm.

To reach Hua Jing meant one could lead a martial school—no wonder he was so arrogant, rushing in at the first sign of trouble.

But Li Yan had anticipated this, shifting his stance smoothly, slashing his Dunchen Blade diagonally.

His swordplay had now reached a true level of mastery.

Blending the Guanzhong Fast Blade technique, it now struck first even when reacting last.

It looked light and effortless, yet carried the weight of a thousand jin.

Puff!

With a scream, the man's leg was severed clean.

Blood sprayed—the man roared and crashed to the ground.

Li Yan was about to finish him off when he suddenly sensed something and leapt back sharply.

On the surrounding wall, three men had appeared—unseen moments before—each holding a fire gun, pulling their triggers simultaneously.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Three flashes of fire erupted, blasting three bowl-sized craters into the courtyard's blue bricks.

"Kill him!"

The man, having narrowly escaped death, roared orders to open fire.

Puff!

Before the words left his mouth, a Duanhun Flying Dagger shot from Li Yan's body, piercing the man's third eye, looping midair, then returning to his waist pouch.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The fire guns kept firing, but Li Yan had vanished into the darkness.

Behind him, the brothel erupted in chaos.

"Master Lu is dead—quick… quick, report to the boss!"

(End of Chapter)