Chapter 13: The Truth Lies Beneath Spear and Club

Zhao Ti also stepped down from the carriage, his face dark as he walked over to the group of guards and palace servants.

"Your Highness, it's, it's Prince Duan…"

"Hmm?" Zhao Ti let out a cold laugh.

"Go on! What about Prince Duan?" Su Da stamped his foot in agitation.

"Prince Duan came with men to seek Your Highness. When we told him you were away, he tried to force his way in. We blocked him, but his men beat us badly."

"And then?" Bai Zhan pressed.

"We dared not fight back. They shouted and caused a huge commotion. Prince Duan saw no one came out, guessed Your Highness was truly absent, said a few words, and left."

Bai Zhan and the others turned to Zhao Ti. Zhao Ti spoke with icy tone: "What did he say?"

The guard, his face swollen like a peach, muttered: "I dare not say…"

"I pardon you."

"Prince Duan said… said… that this brute, besides waving spears and clubs, beating people in the street like a bandit, knows nothing else? He's an insult to civilization!"

Everyone turned to look at Zhao Ti.

Zhao Ti sneered: "Brute? Bandit? Does he even know what a brute is? Then I'll make this eleventh brother understand—what a true brute is. The truth lies beneath spear and club; order rests in the hands of bandits!"

"Your Highness, shall we call men from the building?" Bai Zhan whispered.

While still in the palace, Zhao Ti secretly formed a small lodge outside, housing all manner of rogues, thieves, and outcasts.

Among them were brothers and friends introduced by his personal guards, upright men he met in the alleys for standing up for justice, and pitiful souls he recognized from the magistrate's court as wrongly accused.

Their skills were not exceptional, but they were loyal, full of passion, and unafraid of injury or death.

After leaving the palace for a year, the lodge grew stronger. He named it Jin Feng Xi Yu Lou.

As for funding, it began with imperial gifts—from Empress Dowager Gao Taotao, from Emperor Shenzong, from his mother, Consort Xing. Consort Xing bore four children; the first three died young, so she doted on him, her only son, giving him all her private wealth.

As the lodge expanded, feeding men and horses became costly. When funds ran thin, they turned directly to black-on-black dealings.

In Dongjing, the underworld had the saying of "Seven Gangs, Eight Associations"—seven gangs inside the inner city, eight associations outside.

Dongjing was prosperous; the Song encouraged trade, waterways thrived with transport, ten thousand kinds of goods flowed in from four hundred prefectures. These underworld groups grew fat, oppressed merchants and the good, extorted common folk. Zhao Ti showed them no mercy.

From bloody battles at the start, he now controlled half the underworld's power, had his own businesses, and had already secured his dominance—unifying Dongjing's underworld was merely a matter of time.

"These past days, the lodge has been locked in a standoff with the Tiger Gang and the Qingyi Society. We cannot spare any men. Besides, except for Qin Tianqi and three others, the rest cannot be linked to Yan Fu. We must avoid any connection to the Prince's Mansion." Zhao Ti shook his head. "What skilled warriors could Prince Duan possibly have? Li Yan and a few eunuchs—his guards are all former imperial army soldiers, the same number as mine, with no difference."

Jin Feng Xi Yu Lou was managed by four others he brought out from the Huangchengsi.

The leader was Shang Qi. Since Huangchengsi ranks were Tian, Di, Yuan, Huang, he was Tian Number Seven, so everyone called him Qin Tianqi.

"Your Highness speaks wisely," Bai Zhan said.

Zhao Ti said coolly: "They've come to our door. Not returning the favor would be unthinkable. Gather men, carry the lightly wounded, and head straight to Prince Duan's mansion. Let this eleventh brother see what a true brute is!"

Moments later, twenty to thirty men emerged from the mansion—all palace guards assigned to the prince. Several more carriages were driven up, and they headed straight for Prince Duan's mansion.

Unlike all previous dynasties, the Song did not enforce night curfews in the capital. At night, the city grew livelier, especially around Zhouqiao and Panlou Street, where night markets thrived. With spring came bright lanterns; in midsummer, the noise and revelry reached fever pitch.

The carriage made considerable noise. On the way, they encountered night patrols from the Two Offices and Three Departments. Once their identity was revealed, the patrols bowed and let them pass. Soon, they arrived before Prince Duan's mansion.

Prince Duan's mansion was roughly the same size as Yan Fu, but far more luxurious.

Zhao Ji was a man of literary talent and fine brushwork, fond of comfort, extravagance, grandeur, fame, gold, jade, glitter, and splendor—all his passions. Though young now, his nature was already set, and would never change with age.

The carriage stopped. Prince Duan's guards peered out nervously. If ordinary pedestrians or commoners had lingered here, they'd have been shouted at and driven off immediately.

But these carriages were solemn, their design unmistakably imperial—none dared speak up.

Su Da leapt down first and bellowed at the gate: "Is Prince Duan home?"

The guards didn't drive them off, but such disrespect was unheard of. They instantly snapped: "Who are you, brute? How dare you speak like that? Think you're itching for twenty lashings of the killing stick?"

The killing stick sent to military camps often numbered fifty or a hundred, but most common folk couldn't survive twenty—strong men barely endured that many.

At that moment, Zhao Ti also stepped down. Bai Zhan stepped forward: "Prince Yan is here to see Prince Duan. Why aren't you welcoming him?"

The guards froze. They knew full well what had happened today—after all, they guarded the gate, watched over the mansion; it was impossible not to know.

Two princes had clashed, ordered their men to fight, and the ones who suffered were them—the ones who got beaten, the ones who died. The two princes sat safe and unmoved, watching the storm rise and fall.

The lead guard forced a smile: "Prince Yan, allow me to go announce your arrival. Please wait a moment."

Su Da glared: "You dare make my lord wait outside? Do you want to die?"

The lead guard's eyes darted. Seeing Su Da's rough, violent demeanor, he felt his heart jump. Damn it, this was unsolvable. He gritted his teeth, made up his mind, then suddenly stumbled as if tripping—"Oh no!"—and tumbled down the steps, lying still, clutching his leg and crying out in pain.

Su Da blinked: "What the hell are you doing? I haven't even hit you yet…"

The guard captain ignored him, rolling on the ground. Nearby, Yu Er said: "Clever fellow. Forget him."

The two walked up the steps. The remaining guards stared at each other, some slipping aside, others mumbling: "Your Highness, I'll go report now."

Others blocked the gate, but Su Da and Yu Er punched and kicked them aside. They dared not draw blades or spears, and scattered like startled birds and beasts.

Su Da and Yu Er led the way. Zhao Ti, with Zhou Dong and Bai Zhan, walked in the middle. Behind them, twenty to thirty men carried the wounded Yan Fu guards, and they marched straight into the mansion!