Chapter 25: Wind and Rain, Carrying a Lantern, Heading South to Dali

The night was deep, the wild wind howled, and the rain fell like blades.

In Jingcheng, on Zhu Que Street in Chengnan, lay the First Sweet Water Lane.

Countless men in black, wearing bamboo hats and rain capes, silently surrounded this small alley.

The First Sweet Water Lane was filled with tea houses, bustling with shops, and also hosted many brothels.

At that moment, a figure as thin and small as a monkey slid down the wall to stand before the men in black and whispered, "Brother Seven, are you sure Wei Hu is at Old Woman Zhang's house?"

"Fornicating with Little Willow Red?" the leader of the men in black asked, his voice gloomy.

"That should be the case!" the monkey-like figure replied.

"Act in a quarter of an hour. You must eliminate Wei Hu. Ignore everyone else; once Wei Hu is dead, the bandits of the Fierce Tiger Gang will be headless, chaos will surely erupt within, and their disintegration is imminent!"

"Brother Seven is brilliant!"

"Young Master said so!"

"Young Master is brilliant!"

Beneath the State Bridge, beside the Bian River, many boats were moored.

Several large pleasure boats, which normally sold smiles, hung sheepskin lanterns dyed with gorilla blood; unafraid of wind and rain, the lanterns swayed, the boats swayed too, and their light flickered indistinctly.

Not a single soldier from the Imperial Guard Bureau, originally responsible for patrolling the inner and outer cities, was to be seen; wild cats curled beneath trees and by the bridge, emitting mournful, desolate cries; the Bian River's water was thick and heavy, surging with layers of ripples in the wind, rising with a deep, eerie wail like a night owl.

In the distance, an oil-paper umbrella appeared silently, drifting toward the Bian River; its canopy was a fresh, tender green, lovely to behold, seeming unharmed by the storm yet appearing as if it would soon be blown away and scattered.

Beneath the umbrella stood a youth, about sixteen or seventeen, wearing a white scholar's robe; his expression was calm and serene; he held the umbrella handle lightly in one hand and carried a small carved lantern in the other, its flame flickering inside, illuminating the path ahead.

The paper-umbrella youth, carrying a lantern through wind and rain, walked to the bank of the Bian River.

His steps were light, as if matching the rhythm of the raindrops falling from the sky, one by one, with distinct cadence.

Behind him followed a man in black, carrying an iron spear upside down; his entire form blended with the dark night, appearing and disappearing, sometimes visible, sometimes not.

Far behind the man in black trailed many figures in bamboo hats and rain capes, all seeming to vanish into the wind and rain, their distance impossible to gauge.

From a large boat on the river in the stormy night came sounds of song and dance; coquettish scolds and soft reprimands, like warblers and swallows, made one's heart flutter and fancy run wild.

The large boat approached the shore via a gangplank; a wooden awning was erected beside it, guarded by someone; at that moment, a wary voice came from beneath the awning: "Who is it? Where do you come from?"

The youth shook his small carved lantern and said, "A Great Song night watchman!"

"Where did this bookworm come from? Get lost!"

The youth smiled: "I am looking for Miss Qingyi."

"There is no Miss Qingyi!" A figure flashed beneath the awning, and someone emerged: "I think you are tired of living; I'll throw you into the river to feed the fish and shrimp!"

He could not see the scene in the distance clearly; only that single point of light and the youth's white robe were visible; yet he leaped forward, reaching out to grab the youth's collar.

The youth's feet slid, his body dodged aside; the oil-paper umbrella in his hand was lifted by the wind; with his free hand, he lightly swept across that person's neck; a streak of red-tinged white light appeared; that person's head flew off, landing far away in the Bian River.

The youth looked at his sleeve; half of a sword blade was faintly exposed; "Quite useful," he murmured to himself.

He reached out to grab the fallen oil-paper umbrella; behind him, the figures in bamboo hats and rain capes began to surge forward, approaching the large boat.

At that moment, the large boat rocked, as if something had happened beneath it; then the hull sank slightly, as if taking in river water.

Sounds of shock arose from within the boat's cabin, followed immediately by chaos; the cabin door was kicked open with a "Bang!"; someone shouted, "What is going on? How did water get into the bottom of the boat?"

People on the shore rushed up the gangplank onto the boat; those in bamboo hats and rain capes clashed with those emerging from the cabin door.

The youth stood motionless on the shore; his eyes were bright, blinking not once amidst the chaos.

The figure behind him holding the iron spear also remained still, like a shadow, trailing beside the youth from beginning to end.

This boat belonged to the Qingyi Society, one of the Seven Gangs and Eight Associations of Jingcheng; the seven gangs of the inner city and the eight associations of the outer city; no one would have thought the outer-city Qingyi Society had a boat on the inner-city Bian River.

And this very boat happened to be the headquarters of the Qingyi Society.

The youth was Zhao Ti; he had ordered Shang Qi to kill Wei Hu of the Fierce Tiger Gang in Sweet Water Lane, while he himself was here to block the Society Master, Yan Qingyi, of the Qingyi Society.

The Qingyi Society Master engaged in the trade of human traffickers, secondly ran brothels, and had many connections with the underground Ghost Ghost Fanlou; it was said that Society Master Yan Qingyi was a person from the Ghost Ghost Fanlou.

The slaughter on the large boat was extremely swift; not long after, the clashing sounds of weapons gradually ceased; only a very thin figure could be seen suddenly rising within the boat, skimming over everyone's heads like a dragonfly touching the water, leaping several times before landing on the shore.

The man in black behind Zhao Ti moved to meet him; the iron spear in his hand suddenly traced a streak of dark light; beneath the night sky, it was like a nimble dragon.

The figure wielded two willow-leaf-shaped blades, spinning them into a flower, crossing them like scissors, and hastily parried.

The man in black's iron spear flicked and slashed; the figure could hardly resist; before three moves were completed, he was lifted high into the air and then thrown heavily to the ground.

Those who came to look closely saw it was a woman; her features were fierce; a spear had pierced her chest; blood gushed out; she was already dead on the spot.

Someone who recognized her, after careful identification, called out her name; it was indeed Yan Qingyi, the Society Master of the Qingyi Society.

Zhao Ti smiled from behind, holding the lantern in one hand and raising the umbrella in the other; he turned around; Zhou Tong, carrying the iron spear, followed like a shadow, and they walked into the wind and rain...

Three days later, the sun was bright; it was a clear, sunny day.

On the main road south of the capital region, a carriage moved forward at a leisurely pace.

The youth, dressed in snow-white robes, sat slantwise on the carriage shaft, leaning against the carriage body.

He closed his eyes slightly, his long eyelashes fluttering; a green blade of grass was tucked behind his ear; he softly sang:

"The peach leaf, oh, at its very tip,"

"The willow leaf covers the whole sky,"

"The Ming Gong who holds that position,"

"Listen closely to my words,"

"This matter, ah, arose in,"

"The Wuliang Mountain of Dali,"

"The Jianhu Palace of Wuliang Mountain,"

"There was a Third Brother Duan..."

Zhao Ti sang with increasing joy; for over ten years, he had not stepped beyond the capital region; now his heart was filled with delight; he said to Zhou Tong, who was driving the carriage, "Guangzu, have you ever been to Dali?"

Zhou Tong put down the whip, also happy, turned back, and smiled: "Young Master, in my youth I went there twice; back then I loved to travel, wanting to see all the world's beautiful scenery, to walk through famous mountains and great rivers, and to have been to many places."

Zhao Ti's lips curled upward: "Guangzu is enviable. Does Dali have any old friends or acquaintances you intend to rely on?"

Zhou Dong thought for a moment: "There is indeed one good friend. Two years ago, he sent a letter to Shaanxi, asking me to come over to catch up."

Zhao Ti straightened his posture: "Is he also a person of the Jianghu?"

Su Da jumped from the back of the carriage to the front at this moment: "I will drive the carriage; Old Zhou and Young Master can talk properly."

Zhou Dong handed the whip to Su Da: "This friend of mine counts as half a Jianghu person. His surname is Ma, given name Wude. He is a famous tea merchant, wealthy and hospitable, with the spirit of Mengchang. Jianghu warriors down on their luck who go to rely on him are treated with utmost sincerity. I once stayed in his home for over a month."

Zhao Ti's expression changed slightly: "How is his Wu Gong?"

Zhou Dong said: "His Wu Gong is merely average, but his popularity is extremely high. Anyone who knows him owes him a favor. Whether a sect master or a gang leader, they all call him Brother Ma Wude."

Zhao Ti nodded, revealing a smile.

The Ma Wude Zhou Dong spoke of should be that Ma Wude who took Duan Yu to visit the Jianhu Palace on Wuliang Mountain, the old martial arts master Ma Wude from Pu'er in Southern Yunnan!