Chapter 2: Embroidered Uniform Guard on duty!

The twenty-third year of the Jiajing era, Shuntian Prefecture, night.

A torrential downpour.

The streets were already devoid of pedestrians; only a few flickers of moonlight traced dim, shadowy outlines upon the ground.

At the mouth of a dark alley, two men raised their hands and tossed a blood-soaked man beside a pile of debris.

Occasional flashes of lightning illuminated his dilated pupils and a face that no longer resembled a human's.

Clearly, he had been beaten into this state; his limbs were bent at unnatural angles, his chest no longer rose or fell—he was thoroughly dead.

The two who had dumped the man clapped their hands, spat at him, and cursed, "If you're looking to die, at least check the weather! You've gone and soaked us for nothing!"

After they finished cursing, the younger-looking one started to walk back, but was stopped by the older one.

"What now!?" he asked, annoyed.

"You're heading back already?" the older one said.

"What else? Look at this mess!" The young thug shook his hair.

"Are you stupid? Brother Da De told us to throw him further away. We were lazy and dumped him in this dump of an alley, and you want to go back this fast?" The older thug frowned. "Are you afraid Brother Da De won't notice we're slacking off?"

The young thug realized the point, and after thinking of the scene where Brother Da De had smashed this man with punch after punch, snapping tendons and breaking bones until flesh and blood flew, he couldn't help but shiver.

"Then what do we do?"

"What else can we do? We wait a while before going back." The older thug scanned the surroundings and found a corner sheltered from the rain and wind to squat in.

The young thug cursed a few times, but helplessly covered his head with his outer garment and squatted down beside the older one.

In truth, "Brother Da De" might not care much about this corpse; over a dozen beggars died in Yanjing City every day, and even leaving one on the main road wouldn't cause much trouble.

It was just that they really didn't want to walk far in the rain; in this day and age, catching a cold could cost you half your life. But they didn't dare defy Brother Da De's orders, so they could only linger here for a while before returning; surely he wouldn't ask too many questions.

After ten minutes or so, the two stood up, shook the rainwater off their bodies, and prepared to return to report.

Just at that moment, a faint sound came from the end of the quiet street. Before long, the sound of hoofbeats arrived—clearly not just one or two horses, but a troop.

The young thug hadn't reacted yet, but the older thug's pupils constricted.

It was long past curfew. If it were one or two horses, it might be a wealthy family ignoring the rules. But a whole troop of men? They had to be "official" figures.

It would be bad if the corpse were discovered.

In these times, countless people died in the shadows every day, but they could not die before the eyes of big shots.

The older thug retreated, shoved the corpse into the pile of debris, and pulled a heap of things over it, confirming that no limbs were sticking out.

Only then did he pull the young thug deeper into the alley to avoid the road.

Although the light was dim and the rain was heavy, the probability of passersby noticing them was minuscule. But the older thug was a veteran of the Paojianghu who had been scraping a living in Yanjing for over a decade; he had long understood that caution prevents disaster.

Before the corpse in the debris, they were masters. Before the real masters, they were mere insects.

Being careful not to appear in the eyes of anyone they shouldn't provoke was their rule for survival.

Unfortunately, he understood this principle, but the young thug did not.

Most people in this line of work were hot-headed and aggressive; only after being slashed a few times did they learn the value of life.

Seeing his cautious demeanor, the young thug was already dissatisfied, but he didn't dare speak out, so he symbolically shook off the older thug's hand from his arm.

A faint sound of pushing occurred, and half an arm was exposed.

In a sedan chair in the middle of the troop, a man who looked to be in his early thirties with a weary face glanced outside and tapped the beam of the sedan.

In an instant, the entire troop came to a halt.

Several young men in black tight-fitting outfits dismounted and came to the side of the sedan. The man pointed toward the alley where the two thugs were hiding. The group nodded, turned, and walked over with vigorous strides.

"It's over." The older thug looked at the men walking toward them, his face turning pale.

Because these men maintained a constant distance as they walked, faintly forming a formation, they were clearly trained government runners or experts. Plus, their target was clear—they were coming straight for the place where the two were hiding.

Knowing he couldn't hide anymore, he didn't hesitate; the older thug stepped out and bowed to the men walking over in the rain.

"Officers, we are..."

Bang!

Before he could finish his sentence, an elbow strike smashed into the back of his head, slamming him face-first into the ground.

Immediately, a boot stepped on his back, squeezing the air from his lungs and stifling all his unfinished excuses in his throat.

The older thug struggled to open his eyes, which were seeing stars, and heard the young thug's shout choked off in his throat before he was shoved down in front of him with a thud.

A young man in the alley looked around for a moment, his gaze resting on the pile of debris.

He stepped forward, cleared the debris, dragged out the corpse, gave it a look, and placed it on the ground.

Turning back, he stepped over the two thugs pinned to the ground and walked to the sedan window, saying, "Battalion Commander, a dead man, beaten to death. These two are lackeys under Yan Xiaosheng, they have criminal records."

"Take them," the weary-faced man in the sedan replied.

"Yes."

The young man responded and turned to wave his hand.

Crack! Crack!

With a few crisp sounds, the men pressing down on the two thugs snapped their arms. The two thugs opened their mouths to scream in pain, but were each kicked in the mouth and knocked unconscious.

The men hauled up the unconscious thugs and followed behind the slowly moving troop, leaving the alley.

————————

A tavern just a few hundred meters from the alley was brightly lit.

By rights, it was already the early hours of the morning, and curfew had long been in effect; gathering for revelry was forbidden.

But if anyone were to enter now and see the people sitting in this tavern, they wouldn't think a mere curfew was anything worth mentioning.

Standing at the door with a fierce, fleshy face was "Da De," who had recently made a name for himself in Yanjing City; he was daring and ruthless, and his Wu Gong could be considered entry-level.

Looking at the wet bloodstains on the floor, it was he who had just now punched a man into a lump of soft meat; he was a man who killed without blinking.

Sitting inside were the "One-Armed Sword" Hu Shuang, a hall master of the Canal Gang; "Clear Wind Sword" Gu Jiao, an executive of the Huashan Sect; the bandit "Frost on Snow"; the lone eccentric "Iron Autumn Garment," and others—all figures who had made a name for themselves in the Wu Lin.

And sitting in the seat of honor was the leader of the Yanjing underworld for over a decade, "Iron Palm Maitreya" Yan Xiaosheng.

Tonight was his fortieth birthday; after holding a banquet at home, he was here entertaining his "shadowy" friends.

The Wu Lin was not just about fighting and killing; even the famous righteous sects needed to eat and feed their horses. To make a living in Yanjing, Wu Lin people could not bypass this leader.

It was just that the righteous sects cared about their reputation and didn't want to be publicly linked to him. Wanted criminals like "Frost on Snow" and "Iron Autumn Garment" couldn't swagger in either. So he entertained them here; it was a tavern open for business, and even if checked by government runners, he could just stuff some silver into their hands and claim he didn't know the origins of these guests.

By now, the wine had gone three rounds, and aside from a hot-headed kid who had come looking for revenge and trouble, it could be considered a pleasant evening for both host and guests.

Yan Xiaosheng had a kindly face and a potbelly, looking just like a gentle, wealthy man. At this moment, he raised his wine cup with a smile, about to say a few polite words.

Just then, a loud "Bang!" rang out.

The front door was smashed open, and two people rolled in, tumbling across the floor until they lay in the very center of the room.

One of them was covered in blood, barely lifting his head to look at the livid Yan Xiaosheng, saying, "Leader... Leader, it's the Eagle Claws (slang for government runners)..."

Yan Xiaosheng looked closely and recognized these two as the subordinates he had just sent out to dump the body; his expression grew even uglier.

Outside the door, over a dozen men in black tight-fitting outfits swarmed in, their steps uniform; in just a few breaths, they blocked the entire entrance. Footsteps continued to sound outside, clearly surrounding the entire tavern.

Inside the hall, wanted criminals like "Frost on Snow" and "Iron Autumn Garment" saw that the newcomers looked like government runners and prepared to stand up and fight.

The people from the Canal Gang and the Huashan Sect also stood up, wanting to say a few polite words.

Just then, a man walked slowly through the door.

This man looked to be in his early thirties, with a handsome face, wearing a black cloak; he had ape-like arms and a wasp-like waist, and could be considered imposing. It was a pity he had a weary face and a lazy posture, looking as if he hadn't rested well recently.

He entered the door, and someone behind him closed it and took off his water-stained cloak.

He ignored everyone, lowered his head to pat the rainwater off his body, then looked up at the diverse crowd in the tavern and cupped his hands casually: "Gentlemen, greetings."

He reached out to unhook the waist token hanging at his side, held it up, and drew a listless semicircle in front of him. The people in the room only needed a rough look at the shape of that token to change color in unison.

Several guests from the green woods and the underworld felt their legs start to tremble involuntarily. A disciple of the Huashan Sect opened his mouth to speak, but was glared at fiercely by "Clear Wind Sword" Gu Jiao, and he shrank back, not daring to make a sound.

"I am Embroidered Uniform Guard Battalion Commander, Li Miao."

"The Embroidered Uniform Guard is on duty; those who don't want to die can kneel now."

(End of chapter)