Chapter 66

Thirty guan for a young man? The crowd murmured among themselves; though Youyou Cave rarely sold men, they had never seen such a high price.

“Why so expensive?” someone asked.

The colorful-clad man pointed at the youth: “He’s trained in Wu Gong. Capturing him took considerable effort—several of our brothers were injured. Without special tactics, we couldn’t have subdued him. Naturally, the price is higher.”

“But if he possesses Wu Gong…” said a portly man wearing a merchant’s cap, his eyes darting.

“Rest assured, my lord,” said the colorful-clad man, “his meridians have been destroyed, his Wu Gong ruined. Whoever buys him can use him as he pleases at home.”

The colorful-clad man walked to the women, grabbed one with a fairly pretty face, tore at her shoulder, and said: “None of these goods have been touched. Guaranteed clean. My lords, don’t hesitate—bid now!”

At these words, the crowd erupted into noise, scrambling to outbid one another.

Zhao Ti calculated the time, gently tapped the handle of his fan against the table, and Shang Qi shouted: “Stop bidding! One thousand guan each—I’ll take them all, my lord wants them all!”

The hall fell utterly silent. The colorful-clad man frowned: “My lord, are you joking?”

Shang Qi said: “What joke? We’re taking all of these—and everything else left in Youyou Cave!”

The colorful-clad man said: “Do you have that much money? Or are you here just to smash our shop?”

Shang Qi laughed: “Money? Do you think we need money to buy from Youyou Cave?”

At these words, everyone was stunned. The colorful-clad man sneered: “My lord, that’s too—”

Before he finished, his expression changed abruptly. He turned toward the hall’s entrance—then came a thunderous crash as the door burst open, and two corpses tumbled in: the sentries left outside.

Outside the door stood a line of soldiers armed with crossbows, led by Zhong Pu, who roared into the hall: “Don’t move! Anyone who stirs will be shot dead!”

The door at the rear shattered as well, and more imperial soldiers surged in from behind.

The hall fell deathly silent. The armored soldiers with crossbows filled them with dread—no one dared so much as twitch.

Zhao Ti rose and walked toward the entrance, speaking calmly: “Bring out the abducted people—and the colorful-clad man.”

Zhou Dong and Shang Qi stepped forward at once, restraining the colorful-clad man, while imperial soldiers led the sold men and women out of the hall.

Seeing them emerge, Zhong Pu whispered: “My prince, the ones inside…”

Zhao Ti’s face was expressionless: “Leave none.”

“Yes!” Zhong Pu immediately ordered the crossbows fired—when suddenly, several glints flashed through the hall, and the lanterns were extinguished.

The crossbow bolts had already been loosed; screams echoed through the hall—then came a deafening boom as the ceiling shattered open, and two figures shot upward.

The soldiers below raised their bows to shoot, but whether they hit or not, the two figures darted like birds, vanishing into the night.

Zhong Pu’s brow broke into cold sweat as he looked to Zhao Ti: “My prince, this—”

Zhao Ti narrowed his eyes, pulling his gaze from the ceiling: “Not your men could capture them. And they’re not from Guifan Lou.”

Zhong Pu exhaled in relief. If they weren’t from Guifan Lou, then at least it was manageable—if Guifan Lou had such experts, wiping them out would be nearly impossible.

The arrow rain continued for a while longer; soldiers lit torches and began cleaning up the mess.

Zhou Dong brought a chair for Zhao Ti to sit, while Shang Qi dragged the colorful-clad man over.

The colorful-clad man’s face paint was smeared and streaked with sweat, his eyes darting wildly.

Zhao Ti said calmly: “Little Butterfly Cui Chong?”

The colorful-clad man said nothing. Shang Qi sneered and drew a sharp blade: “I heard Guifan Lou members are all desperate men, fearless of death. Let me test that.”

The colorful-clad man stared at the dagger and shrieked: “I’m no desperate man—”

“Oh? Not desperate?” Zhao Ti nodded slightly. “Interrogate him.”

After a while, Cui Chong confessed everything: he was not originally from Guifan Lou, but a performer from an outside troupe who came to the capital for performances, only to be kidnapped and forced into the organization.

Because he was articulate and presentable, unlike the brutal brutes inside the cave, he won the favor of the Youyou Cave Master, who entrusted him with many tasks—including hosting this auction.

As for the underground layout, Cui Chong knew only fragments—he couldn’t fight, so he dared not go deep. Inside, beyond the Master, the power structure was complex, and he couldn’t identify all factions.

Zhao Ti listened, then ordered: “Send men in. Crossbows first. Watch for traps.”

Zhong Pu responded, gathered a thousand soldiers, forced Cui Chong to lead them, and entered the underground through a nearby eight-character water outlet.

Zhao Ti then pondered the two figures who had broken through the ceiling. Though he’d seen only their backs, he was certain: they were the old man and the girl he’d encountered on the street.

Though the girl wore a veil, he recognized her as the maid from the Duan Prince’s mansion—the one he’d suspected of being a spy planted by some Tokyo faction. But now, it seemed far more complicated.

The old man beside her radiated unmistakable Jianghu energy—not the manufactured aura of a Tokyo guild, but the real thing, the kind found on the Four Evils.

So who were they? Zhao Ti recalled the tone of their speech: though they spoke with a Tokyo accent, a faint trace of the Jiangnan Wu-Yue dialect lingered beneath.

He said calmly: “Bring the people abducted by Guifan Lou.”

Zhou Dong obeyed. Moments later, soldiers brought them forward. They were no longer dazed and passive—the special drug used by Guifan Lou had been washed away with water.

Shang Qi questioned them one by one. The women’s accents were uniform, at most with a suburban lilt. The child’s was the same.

Finally, Zhao Ti turned to the youth. Cui Chong had claimed he had Wu Gong, and capturing him had taken great effort; afterward, his meridians were destroyed and his Wu Gong ruined.

Shang Qi looked at him: “What’s your name? Where are you from?”

The youth, knowing he was saved, did not rejoice like the women. He smiled bitterly: “I’m from Jiangnan. Came to the capital to seek relatives—but before I could find them, these villains seized and ruined me.”

Shang Qi said: “You’re free now. Why not rejoice?”

The youth sighed: “I once had some Wu Gong—trained in basic internal cultivation. I could have guarded homes or joined a escort guild for a living. Now my Wu Gong is gone. I’m weaker than an ordinary man. How can I rejoice?”

Shang Qi said: “If you had Wu Gong, how could they capture you so easily?”

The youth shook his head: “Only because I was an outsider. They slipped me a drugged drink—never fought me directly. With their skill, they couldn’t have taken me in open combat.”

Zhao Ti studied him, eyes narrowing. The youth spoke with a clear Jiangnan Wu-Yue accent. Had the old man and the girl come here to find him?