Chapter 45: Chapter 45
“Can I take all three contracts?”
Li Suifeng asked.
Crow nodded. “Of course.”
“But other assassins may have accepted the same targets. If someone else completes a kill first, that’s that.”
“The locations of the other two are noted on the sheet. If I get a lead on the flower thief, I’ll let you know.”
…
The Riverside Pavilion.
“Nanyang used to be a backwater. Who’d have thought so many people would show up?”
“What did you expect? Mingzhou is a warzone. The court, the Canal Gang, the Red Lotus Sect — even Righteous Manor and the Moon Lake Strongholds have jumped in. The whole prefecture is a pot boiling over.”
“Exactly. Small-timers like us can barely scrape a meal together over there. One wrong step and you’ve crossed some master who grinds you to paste.”
The lunch rush was in full swing.
The Riverside Pavilion’s main hall was packed to the rafters. Jianghu wanderers traded grievances over cups of wine.
Li Suifeng walked in. He didn’t linger on the ground floor — he headed straight upstairs.
The Riverside Pavilion’s waiter spotted him and hustled over.
“Boss Li!”
The owner and Boss Li went way back. The waiter had seen Li Suifeng eat here often enough to recognize him on sight.
“There are still seats on the second floor.”
His voice dropped a respectful notch. Boss Li was arguably the most powerful man in Nanyang now. Best to tread carefully.
“Second floor is fine.”
The waiter escorted Li Suifeng to a window table on the second floor.
Li Suifeng ordered a few dishes and sent the waiter off.
Before long, two plates of cold appetizers and a jug of good wine arrived.
“Excuse me — how come—”
“We ordered first. Why does he—”
A voice rose in complaint from another table.
“Shut it. That’s Boss Li.”
His companion recognized Li Suifeng and clamped a hand over the man’s mouth.
The complainer ducked his head and said nothing more.
Boss Li had killed a sixth-rank master. He ran the Canal Gang’s Nanyang Branch. Not someone to antagonize.
Li Suifeng poured himself a small cup and took a sip.
The Riverside Pavilion was one of Nanyang’s finest. This wine couldn’t match the jar Wen San had gifted him, but it had a mellow, clean burn that invited a second taste.
Seeing that Li Suifeng appeared to be simply dining, the second-floor patrons resumed their murmured conversations.
“Did you hear?”
“Ye Qingmei has gotten stronger. The other day in Mingzhou, she fought ‘Primal Finger’ Zou Wushuang of the Red Lotus Sect — thirteen sword strokes, and she took one of his fingers.”
The room hissed collectively.
Ye Qingmei was only nineteen. Primal Finger Zou Wushuang was a veteran sixth-rank fighter who’d been famous long before joining the Red Lotus Sect. He’d recently killed an Embroidered Uniform Guard sixth-rank officer in Mingzhou. And now Ye Qingmei had bested him?
“Righteous Manor’s young master, Yan Yunxuan, has surfaced in Mingzhou too. Apparently for Ye Qingmei.”
“I thought the Little Marquis of War, Zhuo Dongliu, was the one…”
Jianghu folk loved their gossip — especially when it involved the young prodigies on the Human Rankings.
Ye Qingmei’s humble origins and her meteoric rise to number three on the list made her a perennial topic of conversation.
Li Suifeng listened for a while. Nothing actionable.
He picked at his food, then rose and walked toward a corner table on the second floor.
His movement drew every eye. Conversations dropped to whispers as people tracked where he was heading.
“Is that… Second Master Zhu? Zhu Dachang?”
Someone identified the man in the corner. Sympathy flickered in their eyes.
The Zhu family had once been a name in Mingzhou.
Half a month ago, twenty-four members of the Zhu household had been massacred. Only Zhu Dachang had vanished — whereabouts unknown.
No one had noticed him until Li Suifeng drew their attention.
“A word?”
Li Suifeng sat down across from Zhu Dachang.
“I don’t believe we’ve met.”
Zhu Dachang’s face was blank. One hand had already drifted to the sword on the table.
“Half a month ago — Death Gate Sword Guan San…”
Li Suifeng spoke a few words, soft and measured.
Hatred flared in Zhu Dachang’s eyes. He studied Li Suifeng.
“Not here.”
“Follow me.” Li Suifeng stood and headed for the third floor.
The waiter, who’d been hovering on the second floor, immediately led Li Suifeng and Zhu Dachang to a private room.
“Li Suifeng and Zhu Dachang — what’s the connection?”
“I hear Zhu Dachang knows who hit his family. He’s also seventh-rank himself — though the injuries he took were… below the belt.”
“…”
The second-floor crowd buzzed with speculation. This time, the subject was Li Suifeng and Zhu Dachang.
…
Inside the private room.
Zhu Dachang regarded Li Suifeng. “How do you know it was Death Gate Sword who hit my family?”
“That’s not your concern.” Li Suifeng sat down. “I can help you get your revenge. In exchange, you work for me for three years.”
Three years was enough. Zhu Dachang was thirty-five with late seventh-rank cultivation — more than adequate for Nanyang’s needs.
And three years from now, a single seventh-rank subordinate would barely register in Li Suifeng’s world.
“You can’t handle this.”
Zhu Dachang’s hand was white-knuckled on the sword hilt. His body trembled.
“The one who swung the blade was Guan San, but the man behind it…”
“Righteous Manor.” Li Suifeng’s voice was even. “Guan San is backed by Third Master Leng — ‘River-Taming’ Leng, sworn brother to Righteous Manor’s Lord, Yan Wudao.”
“You—”
Zhu Dachang’s face went slack with shock. Death Gate Sword’s reputation was foul enough that no one would connect him to the sworn brother of Righteous Manor’s Lord.
Only Zhu Dachang knew the truth. His family had been destroyed over a half-complete martial manual. Third Master Leng had come calling for it once. Zhu Dachang’s elder brother refused. Two weeks later, the Zhu family was ashes.
“Serve me. I’ll kill Guan San within a month.”
Li Suifeng met Zhu Dachang’s eyes.
“Done.”
No hesitation. Zhu Dachang agreed on the spot.
Death Gate Sword Guan San was peak seventh-rank. Without Li Suifeng’s help, Zhu Dachang couldn’t even handle Guan San — let alone Third Master Leng behind him.
…
Nightfall.
In the northern quarter, inside a substantial estate, a middle-aged man sat in his bedchamber, polishing a long spear.
“The nights are long. Can’t sleep either, Master Wen?”
A soft laugh drifted through the window.
“Who’s there?”
Wen Bubao leapt to his feet, spear leveled, voice sharp.
When he turned, a young man in blue was standing inside his bedroom. He hadn’t heard a thing.
“Who are you?”
“Li Suifeng.”
“Boss Li — forgive me. I didn’t realize.”
Wen Bubao’s guard spiked, but he lowered the spear regardless.
He’d heard the name. He was no match for this man.
“I want you to work for me.” Li Suifeng kept it simple.
“Before you refuse — you should know someone else already turned me down.”
“So I brought him along.”
Li Suifeng tossed the cloth bundle he was carrying. It hit the floor, and a severed head rolled free.