Chapter 80: Evil Guests Arrive at the Door

“What are you talking about? I don’t understand.”

Zhou Pan’s expression quickly returned to normal as he asked calmly.

Yet everyone present was a seasoned veteran of the Jianghu—they could not miss the oddity.

Within the Taixing Carriage & Stable camp, a young boy whispered to his companion: “Senior brother, what kind of gang is Anqing Hall?”

“It’s not a gang,” the senior brother replied with a faint smile, lowering his voice. “It was once Chang’an’s largest male brothel. Lu Gongyuan was its master.”

“Oh~”

The boy suddenly understood, turned to look at Zhou Pan, and his face twisted with unease.

A male brothel, known as a “xiangong tang,” was a place where young men were sold for sexual services.

Since ancient times, men who favored male companionship have existed, but such tastes were most prevalent in the capital and Minzhou, known as “Jingshi Xiangong” and “Minzhong Qixiong.”

For example, in the capital, famous male brothels included “Chunhuai Hall” and “Jingyi Hall.” The xiangong there were trained not only in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting, but also in the Four Books and Five Classics—appearance mattered less than intelligence and refined speech.

Western traveling beggar gangs and human traffickers across the land, upon capturing handsome, articulate youths, would send them to male brothels, where their price exceeded even that of top-tier courtesans.

But such tastes were the eccentricities of nobles and wealthy families; ordinary people, especially those in the Jianghu who ate meat heartily and drank wine in large bowls, looked down on them.

Hearing Zhou Pan was linked to a male brothel, everyone’s glances turned uneasy.

It did seem Zhou the Monkey had never fathered a child…

But such was his personal vice—they might joke about it over drinks, yet how could it possibly connect to Li Hu’s death?

On the hall’s dais, seeing Zhou Pan deny it, Li Yan narrowed his eyes, suppressing his icy killing intent, and said coldly: “There is no wall that doesn’t leak. Do you think you can hide this?”

“My father took a job to find a kidnapped young master. Many clues pointed directly to Anqing Hall, yet he found nothing.”

“You conspired with Lu Gongyuan, secretly sending word to lure my father to a brothel to seek informants—and he was murdered.”

“Afterward, you rushed from Xianyang to Chang’an, aiding the yamen in raiding Anqing Hall and hunting down Lu Gongyuan. Soon after, that brothel burned down for no reason—all the courtesans inside died.”

“You thought killing them would make this case vanish without a trace?”

At these words, everyone in the hall was stunned.

Old Zhang Yuanshang’s face darkened; he slammed his fist on the table. “Zhou the Monkey, so this is what you did? Poor my brother Li—he suffered a ruined reputation and ten years of restless rest.”

“Damn it, if you don’t explain this clearly, today’s not over!”

Even Han, the boss of the Cao Gang, shook his head. “Zhou Pan, if this is true, your methods are too vile. So many lives lost—you still expect to retire peacefully from the Jianghu? There’s no such luck.”

The others, too, were filled with righteous fury.

Li Yan stood in the hall, his killing intent now impossible to conceal.

These details had been secretly slipped to him moments ago by Guan Wanchè. Though he didn’t know why Guan hadn’t spoken up himself, Zhou Pan’s face confirmed it was almost certainly true.

Thinking of his grandfather’s years of inner torment, he felt a demonic fire surge through his chest—he longed to rush forward and chop off Zhou Pan’s head.

Facing the accusations, Zhou Pan fell silent for a moment, then sighed and shook his head. “All I can say is that I received orders from the Chang’an Prefect’s Commandant’s Office to assist in capturing Lu Gongyuan. This happened long ago; if I speak of it now, I doubt the Commandant’s Office will pursue it.”

He glanced around the hall. “Lu Gongyuan’s male brothel and that brothel were both Mandala Sect’s secret temples in Chang’an, secretly plotting rebellion.”

“What?”

Everyone in the hall was shocked.

This was something no one could lie about.

More than ten years ago, during a great drought in Guanzhong, the Mandala Sect took advantage to stir chaos, inciting villagers to rebel. They killed officials and forced commoners and Jianghu figures to join—if they refused, they burned entire villages.

The Jianghu naturally distrusted the imperial court.

But the Mandala Sect’s heretical teachings deceived countless souls—and more died because of them.

Zhou Pan sighed, looked at Li Yan, and shook his head. “This concerns imperial secrets—I dare not speak further. I can only say your father was unlucky—he walked straight into a den of thieves!”

“Stop playing dumb!”

Li Yan sneered. “Let the Mandala Sect aside—if you hadn’t deliberately lured him, how could my father have walked into an ambush?”

Zhou Pan seemed impatient now; his face darkened as he shook his head. “That’s how it happened. Your father brought death upon himself—do you expect me to stop him?”

“Even if you take this to the yamen, it has nothing to do with me!”

His words admitted guilt, yet his tone was one of: “What can you do about it?”

Seeing Li Yan’s killing intent unchanged, Zhou Pan lifted his chin, his eyes sharp and cruel. “If you’re dissatisfied, you can settle this with me today.”

“Bullshit!” Old Zhang roared, slowly rising. “Zhou the Monkey, picking on a young man, are you? Fine—I’ll settle this for him!”

Boom!

At that moment, a thunderous crash came from outside the hall.

Several disciples flew backward, crashing to the ground, blood trickling from their mouths. As they scrambled backward, they cried out: “Master! Someone’s broken in!”

This sudden disruption shattered the hall’s tension.

Everyone turned to look—Zhou’s martial school disciples were being hurled from the entrance like beasts had struck them, tumbling into the courtyard, screaming in agony.

Then, two figures slowly walked in through the gate.

One was a young man, around twenty, dressed in plain black coarse cloth. Half his face was scarred by burns; his build was short and sturdy, and he carried a “guduo.”

A guduo was a weapon like a mallet—a long handle with a small iron ball mounted at the front. In Tang times, it was used as a judicial cudgel, later as ceremonial staff; commonly called “jin gua,” also known as guazhun.

Based on shape, it was divided into garlic-bulb guduo and thorn guduo.

In operas, generals wielded twin hammers, but those were paper-and-cloth props. On actual battlefields, only those born with godlike strength or masters could wield them—too exhausting. Even if one could swing them, they couldn’t fight long.

!.

Thus, real war hammers had small heads.

The guduo was even smaller, yet delivered devastating force and was easy to conceal—so many in the Jianghu used it.

A single blow from it could crack blue stone.

Behind him walked a middle-aged man, clad in a blue cloak, right hand holding a tiger’s staff, left hand carrying a long banner reading “Healing the World”—a clear image of a wandering physician.

His face was ordinary, temples streaked with gray, his gait calm and leisurely, as if strolling through a garden—he was clearly here to oversee.

Seeing them, Old Zhang’s pupils contracted; he sat back down with a cold laugh. “Zhou the Monkey, it seems you have more than one aggrieved party.”

Zhou Pan’s face darkened. “Who are you? What do you want here?”

The young man spun his guduo in a flourish and sneered in a hoarse voice: “Oh? Didn’t you wash your hands of the Jianghu?”

“So now that you’ve settled things with the gangs, we common folk can’t come ask for justice?”

Zhou Pan frowned. “I don’t recall having any grudge against you.”

“Of course you don’t remember.”

The young man grinned like a demon, glancing around the hall. “You Jianghu types use force to bully, prey on the weak, fear the strong. When you wrong fellow Jianghu, it’s called a feud—but when commoners die, you don’t care, right?”

Zhou Pan’s triangular eyes narrowed. “If you seek justice, explain clearly.”

The young man laughed like an owl. “Ten years ago, in Bazi Village outside Chang’an, your disciples broke into my home under the pretense of hunting bandits.”

“They saw my sister and wanted to rape her. My parents tried to stop them—they were beaten to death, then burned alive. They called it a bandit nest. Didn’t think I’d survive, did you?”

At these words, everyone understood and shook their heads.

Zhou the Monkey had poor discipline and protected his men—he’d done plenty of evil in Xianyang. This outcome was unsurprising.

Zhou Pan fell silent. “I didn’t know about this. Grudges have targets—go after them. Why come to me?”

The young man chuckled. “Don’t worry—they’re dead. I skinned them alive. Didn’t spare a single soul. Hmph, a whole family of vengeful skins—sold them for a good price.”

“So here I am—to join them!”

Everyone stared at each other in shock.

This was not mere Jianghu vengeance—it was bloody extermination. Even the yamen would intervene.

Indeed, Guan Wanchè stood, waved his hand, and the yamen runners immediately unslung crossbows, barking: “Stop! Come with us—or be killed on the spot!”

“Killed on the spot?”

The young man’s scarred face twisted in madness. “You hounds of the court—of course you are. The world is full of demons. The sky itself is black. They must be purged!”

At these words, everyone’s faces changed.

This was clearly treasonous…

Meanwhile, Li Yan’s face grew grim as he stared at the elder behind.

He smelled something familiar on the old man.

That cockatrice snake he’d seen before!

(End of Chapter)