Chapter 30: Parley

Shopkeeper Fu Qing was no stranger to this band of brutes—they were members of the Shangmu County militia.

Due to the court’s limited troop deployment beyond the frontier, border civilians were specially permitted to arm themselves and form local militias to assist in repelling foreign raids.

In the early days, these militias did effectively deter foreign invasions and served a self-defense purpose.

But with the emperor far away and oversight lacking, an armed force that lingers too long often turns into a warlord or a band of soldiers who seize territory and rule by force.

The ringleader, named “Xia Duo Biliang,” known as “General Xia Duo,” was a Manchu-Han hybrid, shaved head with a braided queue, eight feet tall, powerfully built; in his youthful arrogance, he had for over a year regularly led his militia brothers across Shangmu County, bullying civilians and oppressing the weak.

These villains roamed in small groups; if they saw a pretty girl, they would rush forward to grope her head and grab her hands; if she screamed, they would even knock her down publicly, tear her clothes, and assault her.

Sometimes they would burst into farmhouses, beat the male head of household black and blue, shove the women to the ground, ignore their cries of “Master, save me!” and publicly violate their bodies, their screams echoing endlessly.

Once, General Xia Duo lusted after a young, beautiful bride; he ordered his men to beat her husband half to death and drag the bride upstairs.

The bride’s cries and pleas rose and fell, but were drowned out by General Xia Duo’s roars.

When General Xia Duo came down from upstairs, the bride had become his trophy and plaything—her face pale, eyes vacant, as if she had lost even the strength to scream.

A mother once knelt before General Xia Duo, begging to take her daughter’s place, offering her own body instead.

General Xia Duo laughed loudly and said, “If that’s the case, take both mother and daughter—I’ll play with them together!”

The mother and daughter’s screams pierced the heart, yet General Xia Duo seemed to find it the greatest amusement.

Under General Xia Duo’s command, this band of soldiers behaved like street thugs, terrorizing the countryside for months, leaving the people in constant dread.

Their crimes were countless, every evil imaginable; they had utterly lost even the most basic sense of propriety and shame.

They knew only to use their armed power to commit crimes and oppress the world.

Their very existence had turned this land into a hell of slaughtered lives; the people lived daily in pain and terror.

They were veritable demons of mankind, deriving pleasure from oppressing others, utterly revolting.

At this moment, Xia Duo Biliang glared with furrowed brows, his eyes sneering arrogantly around the room.

On either side of his neatly shaved head hung three long braids, glossy black, reaching down to his waist.

He was tall and burly, muscles knotted like ropes; though past forty, his physique bore no sign of age, still brimming with the vigor and explosive power of youth.

Yet his face bore traces of time, none of which could mask his overbearing pride—the pride of one accustomed to trampling others without hesitation.

At this moment, a sneer of utter contempt curled his lips, as if all people and things in the world were petty and laughable to him.

He radiated a violent aura, like a volcano ready to erupt at any moment.

He habitually hunched his shoulders, like a beast poised to pounce.

But his inner cruelty far surpassed this outward arrogance.

He reveled in the pleasure of trampling others, in the sensation of controlling their lives and deaths.

Though he could not restrain his tyranny, he was fully aware of his actions—and took delight in them.

Behind General Xia Duo followed twelve burly men, each towering and fierce-looking, clearly seasoned street bullies accustomed to brawling.

These men were thugs who delighted in violence; just moments ago, they had gone to a schoolmaster’s house to collect gambling debts and beaten the poor man half to death.

They had just finished beating him and were about to disperse when a runner rushed in to report: three outsiders had arrived at the inn, dressed richly—clearly fat lambs.

The runner urged General Xia Duo not to break up yet, to hurry to the inn and give them a warning they wouldn’t forget!

The eyes of the gang lit up instantly—they had been waiting for a day like this to unleash their violence.

At General Xia Duo’s command, the gang of thugs surged after him in a rush.

“Oh… isn’t this General Xia Duo?!” Fu Qing rushed out from behind the counter, using a tone both respectful and non-provocative, trying to block General Xia Duo and his men.

As a merchant, Fu Qing knew exactly how to handle these troublemakers to defuse trouble.

“General, are you here with your men for drinks?”

Though inwardly tense, Fu Qing’s tone and smile were perfectly composed—the very image of a typical merchant.

“I’ll get you a private room right away—please wait a moment…” Fu Qing hurried to say.

Before Fu Qing could finish, General Xia Duo seized his collar, yanked him forward, and waved his right fist twice before his face—this arrogant, bullying posture clearly signaled he was here to pick a fight.

General Xia Duo burst into loud laughter, though there was no mirth in it: “No need for you to trouble yourself, Fu Shopkeeper —I’m not here for drinks!”

With that, he shoved Fu Qing aside and strode past him.

General Xia Duo’s eyes swept over every customer in the room; instantly, the entire inn fell silent, everyone lowering their heads in fear.

His men followed behind, occasionally snickering, as if watching a grand show.

General Xia Duo swaggered straight to Jiang Mingyu’s table, as if it were his own territory.

The table held half-eaten dishes and two unfinished jars of fine wine.

Seeing one seat unoccupied, General Xia Duo didn’t even greet Jiang Mingyu—he plopped down uninvited right across from him!

Jiang Mingyu, still slightly drunk from the wine, had been drowsy; he felt a shadow fall over him, and only when he snapped back to awareness did he see General Xia Duo’s massive frame occupying the chair opposite him.

The chair looked ready to collapse under General Xia Duo’s bulk; Jiang Mingyu couldn’t help but hold his breath for it.

General Xia Duo’s arrogant posture and calm expression snapped Jiang Mingyu fully awake.

Frustrated and restless, his eyes locked onto General Xia Duo’s defiant face; a rage surged through him like a volcano, threatening to erupt and burn this insolent brute to ashes.

Jiang Mingyu’s fists were clenched so tightly they cracked; he longed to smash this insolent fool into a bloody pulp.

As Jiang Mingyu was about to slam the table and roar, his hand was seized by Tuke Sulu, who gave him a warning glance—signaling him not to act rashly.

Jiang Mingyu’s fury flared, yet he forced himself to hold back.

He knew Tuke Sulu was right—these men had come in force, clearly hostile.

Moreover, he knew nothing of their background; striking now would be unwise.

Though General Xia Duo appeared arrogant, he knew he must first probe their background—see if they were hardened opponents.

He tilted his head, scanning Jiang Mingyu, Li Xuanren, and Tuke Sulu from head to toe, his gaze sharp as a hawk’s, then suddenly spoke.

“Tianwang gai dihu?” (Slang: Where are you from? How dare you come onto my turf?)

General Xia Duo’s voice boomed like thunder, making ears ache.

Tuke Sulu showed no fear, replying firmly: “Baota zhen heyao.” (Slang: We mean no trouble; if we did, you’d already be drowned in the river.)

Hearing them understand the slang, General Xia Duo’s brow snapped shut—he realized they weren’t ordinary civilians; they likely had powerful backing. His arrogance immediately dimmed by a third.

He softened his tone, grunted, and said: “If we’re from the same path, then give your name—no need to hurt feelings.” (Slang: Since we’re both on the road, state your identity to avoid conflict.)

Tuke Sulu grunted: “Not red, not green. Comrades, raise your lanterns higher—we’re just yellow grass buns.” (Slang: We’re not Jianghu types. Friends, show mercy—we’re ordinary people with no wealth.)

“Hahaha… you’re not yellow grass buns?” General Xia Duo roared with laughter, his voice shaking the air into ripples.

Seeing they refused to reveal their identity, General Xia Duo taunted further: “Look at your table of food, your attire—how could you possibly be yellow grass buns?!”

General Xia Duo tried other methods to force them to reveal their origins; but after several rounds of probing, soft and hard, they refused to say a word.

General Xia Duo slammed his wine bowl onto the table with a clang, wine splashing everywhere.

He glared, impatiently barked: “You’ve seen how many brothers I’ve got behind me—so… drop some cash, just to be friends.” (Slang: “Lang” means money.)

After leaving the mountains and before entering the Taiyi Academy, Li Xuanren had practiced medicine in the underworld for two years and understood some underworld customs.

The moment he heard the keyword “lang,” he reacted instantly, pulling a tael of silver from his sleeve and placing it on the table, sliding it toward General Xia Duo.

Li Xuanren smiled politely: “Esteemed sir, let’s be friends—this small token… for your men’s tea.”

General Xia Duo picked up the silver, weighed it, then asked: “Where are you from?”

“Inside the pass. The capital.” Li Xuanren replied.

Li Xuanren foolishly believed naming the capital would make these thugs realize they had powerful connections and retreat; he never imagined General Xia Duo’s mind worked completely differently!

In General Xia Duo’s world, anyone from the capital was a wealthy magnate—a fat, juicy target impossible to let slip away.

Seeing the single tael, General Xia Duo’s eyes bulged, his face twisting as if he’d seen a ghost.

He bared his teeth, roared, and swept the silver off the table as if it were worthless scrap metal, not silver at all.

“You think I’m a beggar?!”

General Xia Duo slammed his fist onto the table—the tabletop cracked with a bang, nearly splitting in two.

His eyes bulged with blood, glaring as if he meant to swallow Li Xuanren and his companions whole…

“People from the capital give one tael?! Who are you looking down on? At least forty taels! Forty taels of silver—or none of you leave alive!!”

General Xia Duo screamed until veins bulged on his lips; his ignorant arrogance made even Tuke Sulu roll his eyes inwardly.

Forty taels of silver—General Xia Duo had no idea what it could buy him; he simply assumed people from the capital were so rich, forty taels meant nothing to them.

At this moment, Jiang Mingyu could no longer hold back; ignoring Tuke Sulu’s warning, drunk and furious, he leapt to his feet.

Jiang Mingyu’s eyes locked onto General Xia Duo, as if trying to pierce him through.

His face flushed, his expression righteous and furious, he shouted: “You bandits! In broad daylight, you dare extort! You have no regard for law! I refuse to believe this—how can I let you get away with this?!”

Jiang Mingyu spat out each word through gritted teeth; he felt these men had gone too far—daring to rob and murder in public, they were demons of mankind!

Tuke Sulu saw Jiang Mingyu was still drunk and impulsive; he feared he would bring disaster.

He rushed to stop him, urging him to sit down—but Jiang Mingyu paid no heed.

Before Tuke Sulu could react, one of General Xia Duo’s men lunged forward, twisted Jiang Mingyu’s arm, and slammed him to the ground.

The thug pummeled him with fists and kicks—thuds rang continuously; Jiang Mingyu cried out in pain, with no escape.

Seeing this, Tuke Sulu’s rage exploded—the emperor had ordered him to personally protect Jiang Mingyu’s safety; if Jiang Mingyu was harmed, Tuke Sulu would lose his head, possibly even face extermination of his nine clans.

Tuke Sulu lunged forward, feet kicking up dust, delivering a flying kick straight to the thug’s chest.

The thug let out a long howl, like a puppet with cut strings, flying far away and crashing onto the next table—the tabletop shattered into splinters with a bang.

Seeing the scene spiral out of control, General Xia Duo abandoned all pretense of courtesy.

He roared: “Today, I’ll teach you the frontier’s rules! Brothers, attack! Beat them until they’re begging for their teeth!”

Before he finished speaking, General Xia Duo kicked the table—it crashed over with a crash; his men surged forward, striking anyone in sight!

A thunderous crash echoed; customers turned to look—tables overturned, people sprawled, fists and feet flying everywhere.

Seeing this, the customers turned deathly pale, their souls nearly flying out of their bodies.

They scrambled to their feet and rushed toward the door, terrified they too would suffer the same fate.

The half-eaten food and spilled wine littered the floor; the silver coins for payment remained on the table, but they had already bolted out the door, abandoning the money—anything to escape this cursed place!

Fu Qing and the shopboy were startled by the scene, but quickly regained their composure.

Fu Qing did not stop the fleeing customers, nor did he dare to intervene; such scenes were far too common to them now, mere daily occurrences.

Instead, he exchanged a glance with the shopboy, and both ducked behind the counter.

They had seen too many such scenes to know resistance only meant certain death.

They would emerge only after the chaos had passed, then clean up the mess.

Fu Qing pulled out two burlap sacks, one for himself and one for the shopboy, frantically stuffing silver coins into them.

Whatever they could fit, they took—saving their lives was paramount; silver could always be earned again.

Both bowed their heads, working furiously, yet their hearts were calm and fearless.

He had run this shop for years, and violent destruction was no stranger to him.

Broken furniture and damaged decor could be replaced—so long as the green mountains remained, even without firewood to burn.

Silver could be earned again, but one’s life was given only once.

Tu Kesiluo, as Deputy Commander of the Imperial Guard, was no ordinary man—he took down one attacker, then another; two came, he knocked down two!

But Jiang Mingyu and Li Xuan were different: frail scholars who, in daily life, knew only bookish pride, never having witnessed such bloody, brutal brawls.

Either they lay sprawled on the ground, or hid beneath tables, or scurried like rats behind Tu Kesiluo, daring not to show even a sliver of their bodies.

Tu Kesiluo blocked a punch on the left, dodged a kick on the right, constantly moving, utterly overwhelmed—he had no attention to spare for these two weaklings, Jiang Mingyu and Li Xuan.

Whenever Tu Kesiluo’s subordinates found an opening, these two scholars were immediately dragged out and beaten senseless.

They could only cower and scramble, desperately hiding behind Tu Kesiluo; seeing him overwhelmed, his two fists unable to fend off thirteen hands, whenever someone seized an opening, Jiang Mingyu or Li Xuan would be snatched out and beaten black and blue!

Jiang Mingyu and Li Xuan screamed incessantly, their appearance utterly pitiful.

Jiang Mingyu hid beneath the table, yet still took a kick to the ribs—he cried out in pain but dared not make a sound, instead clutching his stomach and curling into a ball.

Li Xuan tried to dodge, but a punch struck the back of his skull; his vision darkened, nearly collapsing—he was still trembling, drenched in cold sweat, and could only cower behind the table, shivering uncontrollably.

Like lambs awaiting slaughter, they could only be dragged out and beaten at will, moaning in agony, praying Tu Kesiluo would rescue them soon—or today would be their end.

Seeing this go on was no longer tenable, Tu Kesiluo gritted his teeth and decided to go all out!

Tu Kesiluo moved like lightning, executing the “Golden Hook Iron Chain Drag”—one thug’s wrist bones cracked audibly, his arms violently yanked behind his back.

Then came the “Taizu Mountain-Cleaving Kick,” striking straight into another thug’s jaw—blood gushed forth, splattering like a wild celebration of crimson.

The thug’s head lolled to one side, collapsing like a broken puppet.

He who had previously held back now became ferocious—striking the throat, snapping arms, kicking ribs apart, crushing shinbones—each move, each kick was cruel, every strike meant to knock them down, half-dead!

General Xia Duo flew into a rage and shouted: “All of you, attack!” Instantly, over a dozen men surged toward Tu Kesiluo, fists raining down upon his entire body.

Tu Kesiluo deflected each blow, every technique lethal; the sounds of snapping joints and shattering bones rose and fell like a chorus, the thugs falling like kites with severed strings.

General Xia Duo, himself a martial practitioner, had never expected Tu Kesiluo to unleash a full set of Taizu Longquan!

He knew clearly: even if all twelve of his men plus himself attacked together, they might still lose.

General Xia Duo, ever the man who avoided immediate danger, shouted: “Retreat!” No sooner had the words left his lips than the still-mobile men dragged or carried their unconscious comrades out of the shop, fleeing in disarray.

As General Xia Duo left, he spat out one final threat: “You Jingcheng bastard, we’ll settle this another day!”