Chapter 227: They

227. Chapter 227: They've Come Knocking

Fu Chuchuan set down his tea bowl and said with a smile, "We're only here to talk this time, nothing else. I've heard that Zhao Jin is a cautious man too — if you lot make things too obvious, it'll only work against us."

The men around him all nodded with grins, and one of them spoke up, "Master Fu, do you reckon those rumors are true or false? What can a teenager do — how could he possibly build something this big?"

"They're young, but the grown-ups behind them aren't small. Those people hold official posts and scholarly rank, so there's plenty they can't do openly. This Zhao Jin is nothing more than a front." Fu Chuchuan spoke leisurely.

Hearing this, the men around him nodded repeatedly. Fu Chuchuan smiled as he picked up his tea bowl and said lightly, "We don't care how they stir things up, but now that Ninth Master has his eye on this place, an explanation is owed. I'd like to see just how..."

Before he could finish, a startled cry rang out from outside — it was the voice of the man they'd posted as lookout. Everyone in the room jolted. Fu Chuchuan flung his tea bowl aside, reached back, and drew a three-foot straight blade. The other four each grabbed their weapons — their pudao had been right behind them.

"Little Liu, what's going on!" someone in the room shouted.

"Someone's..." came the answer from the courtyard.

But the reply was cut off halfway by a thunderous crash. Those inside could already hear the sound of rapid footsteps, curses, and shouts.

"Master Fu, should we..." Again the words were cut short by another booming crash. The door burst open — one panel couldn't take the force and was ripped clean off the frame, slamming onto the floor. Fu Chuchuan and his men jumped back in alarm.

Before they could react, several figures had already charged through the doorway. The men inside had no time to think — seeing someone rush in, they roared and brought their blades chopping down!

But fast as he was, his opponent was faster. The blade had only just been raised to strike when a spear point was already pressed against his throat. The cold seeped into his skin, raising goosebumps. His chopping motion had been too forceful — his body couldn't stop in time, and his Adam's apple grazed the spear tip. A drop of blood welled up, scaring the man out of his wits. He didn't dare move a muscle.

The two at the front — one was pinned by the spear, while the other had already brought his pudao chopping down, meeting the enemy head-on. But his pudao was sent flying from his grip on impact, the web of his hand split open. He cried out in pain and shook his hand.

No one had expected the intruders to be so fierce. The other two froze for a moment. But Fu Chuchuan proved different — he crouched low, held his straight blade across his chest, and burst forward with his body coiled. As he charged, his blade thrust out in a swift stab. The room was cramped, after all, and the two who had charged in first had already spent their momentum, pausing briefly.

Yet just as Fu Chuchuan extended his arm to stab, a sharp whistle of wind sounded between the two men facing him — a flash of cold light. Fu Chuchuan let out a miserable cry, his straight blade clattering to the ground. Looking again, his left hand was clamped over his right wrist, blood seeping through his fingers.

"Drop your blades!" The one who had charged in was, of course, Zhao Jin. The other was Chen Sheng, and it was Wang Zhaojing whose sword had struck Fu Chuchuan's wrist.

Hearing Zhao Jin's words, the two still holding blades hesitated. Then, by the lamplight, they saw their two companions in the courtyard pinned by spears, all manner of weapons glinting coldly in the light. The other side had not only seized the initiative — they were overwhelmingly outnumbered.

In this situation, everyone knew what choice to make. The two men obediently dropped their pudao. Zhao Jin's spear remained pressed against his opponent's throat as he said, "Search them, then tie them up!"

The order given, Liu Yong called several household guards forward. They searched Fu Chuchuan and his men from head to toe, pulling out daggers and short knives hidden in their belts and boots.

"Who are you, sir?" Fu Chuchuan gritted out through the pain.

"You've got the skill to creep up to my door, but you don't know who I am?" Zhao Jin said with a cold laugh.

Fu Chuchuan froze, then his eyes went wide. Though he'd vaguely suspected, he hadn't imagined that the young man before him really was Zhao Jin.

As they spoke, all five men in the room had been trussed up tightly. The two outside were also bound and brought in. A man like Fu Chuchuan, who cared so much about proper form, was now tied up like a zongzi and dumped on the floor, so furious his eyes blazed. Zhao Jin paid him no mind, simply leading his companions and men in a search.

The detached courtyard wasn't large, so the search didn't take long. Zhao Jin soon returned to the room. From what they'd found, he could tell the general purpose of these men's visit to Xuzhou — they'd likely come to talk. There wasn't much gold or silver, and the weapons they carried were just ordinary gear for self-defense on the road.

"What did you want to say to me?" Zhao Jin asked, sitting boldly and confidently in the seat of honor.

Fu Chuchuan stared at Zhao Jin with venomous hatred. Only after a long moment did he grit out, "When two kingdoms go to war, envoys are not executed. Does Young Master Zhao still care about the rules or not?"

At these words, Chen Sheng, Wang Zhaojing, and the others all turned to look at Zhao Jin. They'd been brothers for so many years — even without speaking, Zhao Jin knew what they were thinking. His brothers probably really did feel they were in the wrong here.

Zhao Jin smiled, reached out and picked up the spear leaning against the table, raised it one-handed, and brought it smashing straight down!

A sharp whistle — Fu Chuchuan screamed. His left shoulder had collapsed. Anyone with sharp ears would have almost heard the sound of bone shattering.

Fu Chuchuan's face was twisted in agony, needless to say. His attendants were all utterly horrified. A nine-foot spear with an iron-sheathed tip over a foot long was no light thing — not to mention its length, which made it hard to control with one hand. Yet Zhao Jin had simply picked it up and smashed it down without touching anyone else.

"A village bully from some estate, and you have the nerve to call it a 'kingdom'? You came looking for me openly, so I came looking for you openly. You went sneaking around my home playing dirty tricks, and now you act all self-righteous?" Zhao Jin asked coldly.

The moment they recalled how the other side had delivered their notice to Zhao Jin's own home, the companions understood. Fu Chuchuan was left speechless.

"Say what you have to say, and be quick about it. Otherwise, you can forget about keeping the other shoulder too." Zhao Jin raised the spear again.

Tough as he tried to be, when Fu Chuchuan saw that spear rise in Zhao Jin's hand, he instinctively shrank back — but bound as he was, he couldn't move. He could only say sullenly, "My family's Ninth Master sends word to Young Master Zhao: he and Steward He are in-laws. Young Master Zhao struck and took so many lives at He Family Manor — an accounting must be given."

After saying this, Fu Chuchuan stared at the people across from him, hoping to see alarm and fear on those young faces. It wouldn't mean much, but at least he'd salvage some face.

Yet the group seated there all remained expressionless. At most, they glanced at Zhao Jin where he sat, with no other change.

"Is that all?" Zhao Jin's reply was simple.

Fu Chuchuan was stunned. In the lands of eastern Henan, western Shandong, and northern Huaibei, who among those connected to the outlaw world didn't know Kong Jiuying? Who didn't have to show him face? His fearsome name had held sway for nearly twenty years. No matter how fierce Zhao Jin was, he was still just a newly risen figure — how could he be so composed?

Looking at the cold-gleaming weapons in the room, feeling the searing pain in his shoulder and wrist, and then seeing the utter calm on Zhao Jin and his companions' faces, Fu Chuchuan suddenly felt a chill run through his whole body. He realized he had been far too arrogant.

Zhao Jin's name had risen swiftly in the past half year. Xuzhou was a transport hub where water and land routes intersected, so the relevant parties in the surrounding regions all had some understanding — especially after the major events of the first month, which had shaken the entire region. A powerful figure like Kong Jiuying, who also had a grudge involved, naturally had an even more detailed grasp of the situation.

Yet upon learning of these events, the first reaction was disbelief. How could seven or eight youths slaughter over a hundred desperate, hardened bandits, then ride through the night to wipe out He Family Manor? The second reaction was contempt. In this age, people valued maturity and experience — what could anyone under twenty possibly accomplish? It had to be their families pulling the strings.

As for those boys' families, Kong Jiuying truly didn't care. In the territory of Xuzhou, the only one he was wary of was Cloud Mountain Temple. Constables and the like didn't even register in his eyes.

It was with this mindset that Fu Chuchuan had come to Xuzhou. Without the slightest restraint, he'd used old connections to find out where the Zhao family lived and had someone deliver a visiting card. In his thinking, if Zhao Jin and his people understood how things worked, a little intimidation would make the talks go smoothly. If they didn't — if they were greenhorns who didn't even know this much — then they'd be even easier to push around.

But neither of the scenarios Fu Chuchuan had imagined came to pass. Now he understood clearly: this young man was a tiger too. Young as he was, he was no different from Ninth Master himself. At this thought, Fu Chuchuan shuddered. In the lamplight, the Zhao Jin sitting there really did carry a hint of Kong Jiuying's presence.

As these thoughts raced through his mind, before Zhao Jin could even press him further, Fu Chuchuan's own arrogance had already deflated considerably. He hurriedly continued, "Young Master Zhao..."

The moment "Young Master Zhao" left his mouth, Fu Chuchuan stopped, a look of difficulty appearing on his face.

Zhao Jin gave his spear a shake. The tip scraped against the brick floor with a grating screech. The sound made Fu Chuchuan's eye twitch, and his hesitant, troubled expression deepened.

"Speak quickly, or you won't get the chance to speak at all!" Zhao Jin pressed coldly.

Fu Chuchuan's body trembled twice. Hesitantly, he opened his mouth: "Well... I hope Young Master Zhao won't take offense. What I've come to deliver are my family's Ninth Master's words. Ninth Master says, better to resolve enmity than to deepen it. He Family Manor is He family property — with Steward He gone, it stands to reason that our Ninth Master should manage it on his behalf... Also, that fine liquor from Young Master Zhao's distillery — Ninth Master wants three thousand jars a year..."

No wonder he'd been hemming and hawing, afraid to speak. Fu Chuchuan's voice grew quieter and quieter as he went on, until finally he fell silent. Zhao Jin and his companions were all enraged. With a flick of his wrist, Zhao Jin pointed the spear tip straight at Fu Chuchuan.

All that bravado and composure — now it was thrown aside completely. Fu Chuchuan's face changed drastically. He struggled, trying to dodge, but two household guards pressed him down firmly. He couldn't move.

"Is there anything else?" Zhao Jin asked coldly, his spear held perfectly still.

"N-no... nothing else..." Cold sweat rolled down Fu Chuchuan's face in streams, his voice gone hoarse.

The room fell silent. Zhao Jin held the spear level with one hand, its tip pointed at Fu Chuchuan's throat, not wavering in the slightest. The arm and wrist strength was astonishing — but Fu Chuchuan was in no state to marvel at such things. His face grew paler and paler, his whole body trembling more and more violently.

Chen Sheng and Wang Zhaojing, standing beside Zhao Jin, exchanged glances. Both looked ready to step forward and urge restraint — killing him now really wouldn't be appropriate.