Chapter 649: The Smelling Incense Sect in Nanjing

His mind was a tangled mess. He turned things over and over without a single idea. Feng Qi trudged groggily toward the wine shop. Although many of his colleagues came here, he had always been reluctant to. Feng Qi still remembered how his father would go wild in drunken rages when he was a child, and he also felt the wine was a bit expensive — he wanted to save his money for proper business.

But in his current state, Feng Qi was thinking of drowning his sorrows. He ducked his head as he walked into the wine shop — he couldn't help it. News of Feng Qi's situation had already spread throughout the Nanjing Embroidered Uniform Guard, and every time he appeared, people pointed and whispered about him.

He bought a pot of wine. One cup down, he felt a fire blaze up from his belly, his whole body growing warm, his head starting to swim. Those vexing troubles blurred a good deal. This was exactly the feeling he wanted. Feng Qi downed another cup.

This Han Well Famous Liquor was strong and fierce. Sipping slowly was fine, but gulping cup after cup sent the potency rushing to the head — it was easy to get drunk. Already tipsy, he ordered another pot, but halfway through it, he burst into loud sobs.

There were plenty of Embroidered Uniform Guard agents drinking in the wine shop, and many recognized Feng Qi. Seeing him like this, they all shook their heads. Someone said he was a pitiful man, and inevitably they began discussing Feng Qi's affairs.

After two pots of wine, Feng Qi was dead drunk, slumped over the table and unable to rise. The shop assistants paid him no mind. The other Embroidered Uniform Guard drinkers talked and pitied him, but no one went to help. No one would offend a lofty chiliarch for the sake of a powerless squad commander.

When Feng Qi groggily awoke, he found everything dim and dark around him. The clamor and noise were gone — clearly night had fallen.

"Good wine, though." Feng Qi muttered. He felt sore and weak all over, with no strength to muster. Drowning his sorrows in drink only kept the sorrows at bay while he was drunk. Once sober, none of the troubles had lessened.

Just as he propped himself up, Feng Qi immediately sensed something wrong. When he had passed out drunk, he had been slumped over a table, but now he was lying on the ground. The surroundings and the floor were nothing like the wine shop.

"What's going on?" Feng Qi swept his gaze around and saw only a pair of boots before him. He put strength into both arms, leaping up from the ground, and threw a head-on punch downward — but his body was already hurtling backward. This place was strange; he would put some distance between them first.

The punch he threw was powerful enough to smash two stacked bricks. Even thrown after drinking, it still whistled through the air. As he rose, he had already taken clear stock of his surroundings: a small room, a wooden table before him with an incense burner on it. Behind the incense burner hung a portrait of Maitreya. The picture was a bit peculiar — beneath the lotus throne, a white fox held incense in its mouth.

Feng Qi knew something was wrong. The layout of this room was unmistakably a Smelling Incense Sect shrine hall. The Nanjing Embroidered Uniform Guard had raided several before; one had even met with resistance and bloodshed. Could this be the cult's retaliation?

In that instant, another thought struck Feng Qi — wasn't there someone right in front of him? How had they vanished!

There was no one before him. The punch he had thrown could no longer be pulled back. His wrist felt as if clamped tight by iron tongs, yanked forward, his whole body about to crash into the incense altar. He lost his balance, then someone seized him by the back and slammed him hard to the ground. Feng Qi was helpless — he was flat on the floor again.

Only this time, it was as if he had been thrown to the ground. His muscles and bones ached all over, and for a moment he could not move. But Feng Qi had no mind for the pain — inwardly he was shocked. The one who had grabbed him possessed terrifyingly high martial skill and tremendous strength. Though the exchange was brief, Feng Qi knew he had no ability to resist this opponent. What did such a formidable person want with him? How had he come from the wine shop to this place? Could it be that the wine shop...

"Boy, I hear your betrothed is about to be bought away by someone?" As Feng Qi's thoughts ran wild, he heard a voice. It sounded like a man in his thirties or forties, with an accent vaguely from north of the river.

The question was the truth, but to Feng Qi's ears, it was naked humiliation. He struggled instinctively, but could not move. The man held him pinned firmly to the ground with one hand. Still not fully sober from his heavy drinking, and now confronted with this shameful matter, Feng Qi lost control of his emotions for a moment and could not stop the tears streaming down his face.

"A man stands tall between heaven and earth — what the hell are you crying for? Isn't it just a matter of a few hundred taels of silver? I'll give it to you!" The rough, bold voice said impatiently.

Feng Qi froze for a second, then his whole body jolted as it sank in. Those few hundred taels of silver had driven him and Chunmei to the brink of a death pact, utterly helpless — and this man spoke of giving it to him so casually.

On salary alone, a squad commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard would need to neither eat nor drink for a full fifty years to save up three hundred taels. Even working as a guard on the flower boats, he only earned around twenty taels a year. On what grounds would anyone just give it to him?

He turned it over in his mind again and again before it hit him — this was a cult shrine hall. He wanted to roar in fury and denounce them, but the words would not come out. If he really had three hundred taels of silver, then Chunmei could marry him. Feng Qi knew Chunmei had a fierce temperament. If she were truly bought by Chiliarch Lin's son, she would likely hang herself.

"Crying, my ass. Can't bring your own wife home. Your mother falls ill and you can't afford a doctor. Even the shop that brought in rent and income you sold off cheap. Tell me, aren't you just pathetic?" The man continued.

If he hadn't said it, it would have been fine, but once he did, Feng Qi lost control even more. Yet with both hands pinned, the tears flowed ceaselessly, plastering his face.

"Still fucking crying? Isn't it just a few hundred taels of silver? I've got five hundred taels in ready silver right here. Agree to a few things, and it's all yours."

This time, Feng Qi truly stopped crying. His eyes widened. Though he made no sound, his heart churned like a stormy sea. What on earth did these cult followers want with him? Could it be some beheading-and-rebellion business? But then he thought again — if he could really get five hundred taels of silver, then even beheading-and-rebellion business... he might just do it.

Five hundred taels of silver weighed over thirty catties. It was no light load on his back, yet Feng Qi wished it were heavier. After leaving that residence, Feng Qi realized it was not far from the Embroidered Uniform Guard office — just three streets away. The residence was small, built to the standard of an ordinary household. He had passed by it many times before, never imagining it had become a shrine hall of the Smelling Incense Sect.

What exactly did these cult followers want? A bitter smile appeared on Feng Qi's face, but his steps did not stop. Carrying the silver on his back, he walked farther and farther away. What they wanted, everyone could probably guess — nothing more than rebellion to seize the realm. But with such a rabble, there was only a dead end waiting for them.

The reason for the bitter smile was that Feng Qi was now a member of the Smelling Incense Sect himself. The masked man's terms had been simple: Feng Qi was to join the sect, burn incense, leave behind proof, and then pass on information at any time. First, five hundred taels of silver, and thereafter a fixed stipend of twenty taels a month.

The cult was certainly generous with its money. Feng Qi had sighed inwardly at the time, but he also had a bit of cunning. He would take the silver and verbally agree for now — it was just burning a stick of incense and kowtowing a few times before Maitreya, after all. Later, he would bring a large force to wipe this place out. He could silence them by killing and earn some merit at the same time.

He had not expected the rules here to differ from those extracted under torture before. He also had to sign and mark a document, cutting his finger to press a bloody thumbprint. This was proof of a crime. If he ever tried to go back on his word, and that signed and sealed initiation document was delivered to the yamen or government office, he would become a spy guilty of plotting rebellion — his entire family would suffer.

The other party truly left no loose ends. With this proof, he had no way to renege. He could only serve them wholeheartedly, passing on information.

The silver weighed on his shoulder, making Feng Qi feel some discomfort, yet it also dispelled much of the fear of becoming a cult spy. He toiled bitterly at his post, yet the wages he earned could not even guarantee food and clothing. He had finally found a wife, only to have her snatched away by his superior's son. These five hundred taels came from the cult, but Chiliarch Lin's annual salary was only a few times his own, at most. Where did the money for his family's silks and fine foods come from? A single banquet on the Qinhuai River probably wiped out that salary entirely. If they could do it, why couldn't he?

As he thought, his hesitation and fear all scattered like smoke, and his steps grew faster and faster.

Three hundred taels of ready silver were delivered to the flower boat. At the sight of the gleaming silver, the people on the flower boat had both face and substance satisfied. Chiliarch Lin's son's side was also easier to placate. They smoothly handed over Chunmei's contract documents, and then everyone, high and low, even scraped together twenty taels as congratulatory silver, to make up for the earlier conflict.

When Feng Qi and Chunmei met, having gone through all these twists and turns, they were overwhelmed with emotion. The scene of weeping with joy needs no further description.

With silver in hand, nothing was difficult. Feng Qi settled Chunmei at home and sought out a renowned physician to treat his mother's illness and prescribe medicine. Seeing a daughter-in-law enter the household, Feng Qi's elderly mother felt her spirits lift, and her health quickly improved.

This affair also became a curious tale within the Nanjing Embroidered Uniform Guard. Everyone said Feng Qi's filial piety had moved heaven and earth, that he had divine protection, that he had dug up ancestral savings buried at home, and so on. Chiliarch Lin's son was hopping mad, but he could only let it end there. If he went too far, many in the Embroidered Uniform Guard would find it intolerable. Moreover, Assistant Commander Ma Chonghao of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, though he didn't interfere with everyone making money, kept a very close eye on matters like this. If he could seize a pretext to replace a chiliarch and install an obedient man of his own, Ma Chonghao would not be soft-hearted.

As for passing on information, after Feng Qi nervously inquired around, he discovered that as a member of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, learning certain things was simply too easy. Who would be on guard against their own colleague? Besides, because of his filial piety and his marriage to Chunmei, Feng Qi had earned considerable goodwill. Moreover, most Embroidered Uniform Guard agents had plenty of idle time and loved to gossip endlessly about any shady dealings or rumors within the service. Sometimes he didn't even need to ask — he just had to sit there and listen quietly.

What others found a bit odd was that Feng Qi had rarely visited that wine shop before, but now he went every day to sit for a while, drinking a cup or two, and often treating everyone to a few rounds. It seemed he really had dug up a hidden cache of gold and struck it rich.

What no one else could imagine was that Feng Qi's mood whenever he came to this wine shop was always uneasy, because he knew it was a stronghold of the Smelling Incense Sect. That night, after the masked man had given him the silver, he had specifically instructed him to come here often. If there was a signal, the shop would find a way to let him know.

Thanks to the three old friends "Sweet Sugarcane," "Immovable as a Mountain," and "Book Friend 1287208672" for their tips, and thanks to everyone for your subscriptions and monthly tickets. Thank you all.