Chapter 32: Chapter 32

By the time Zhao Jiu returned to The Little Tavern, it was already late at night. The sky was as black as ink, while snowflakes drifted down one after another, resembling flecks of decoration scattered across the darkness.

Zhao Jiu brewed a pot of tea and quietly contemplated the job he had just accepted.

He had heard of the Huangyun Gang. It was one of the two largest gangs in Liangzhou City, the other being the Qingsha Gang.

Both gangs had gradually risen to prominence because of bandit attacks. Most of their members had once been militiamen who fought against the bandits. After the bandits were driven away, many of the now-idle militiamen gathered together, forming gangs of various sizes.

Those gangs later swallowed one another in a series of conflicts until only the two largest remained, along with several groups of local hooligans and thugs.

The sex trade and gambling were the two most lucrative businesses, and each gang controlled one of them. The Huangyun Gang primarily operated gambling dens, though it was also involved in a small portion of the sex trade. After all, vice and gambling had always gone hand in hand.

Although the two gangs were considered the largest in the city, they were nowhere near powerful enough to divide Liangzhou between them. Each had fewer than two hundred members.

The authorities were already overwhelmed by the task of dealing with the mountain bandits, so as long as the gangs did not go too far, the officials simply turned a blind eye.

Huang Qi, the Gang Chief of the Huangyun Gang, was merely a Fourth-Rank expert. Killing him would be effortless for Zhao Jiu.

Even the four Fourth-Rank Buddha-Serving Vajra Guardians had not caused Zhao Jiu much trouble, let alone Huang Qi, who had come from an unorthodox background without any proper lineage.

The greatest uncertainty was whether anyone stood behind Huang Qi. Zhao Jiu had read plenty of novels in his previous life, and in those stories, seemingly insignificant gangs were often secretly protected by injured experts. A Third-Rank expert would still be manageable, but a Second-Rank expert would present a serious problem. Zhao Jiu stared at the tea in his cup with a frown, hesitating for a moment. That was also why he had yet to convert the banknotes into God of Wealth Points.

Suddenly, Zhao Jiu slapped his forehead and drew a sharp breath. “There must be something wrong with my head. I have become so accustomed to caution that I do not even dare act boldly in a Beginner Village. If there truly were a Second-Rank expert here, why would he divide the city evenly with a rival? What kind of expert refuses to use a gun when he has one?”

After figuring it out, Zhao Jiu rubbed his eyes. His thoughts had failed to turn the corner for a moment, nearly leading him into a ditch.

“Cultivate, cultivate.”

He drained the tea in his cup and muttered to himself, “No, too much cultivation has made my brain stop working. I am taking the night off! From now on, I need to read more books, admire more paintings, cultivate less, and sleep more!”

The following evening, Zhao Jiu took a stroll after dinner, using the opportunity to familiarize himself with Liangzhou City.

When he returned to The Little Tavern and opened the door, he saw a pigeon standing on the table.

Perhaps the gray pigeon heard the sound, or perhaps it saw him enter. Either way, it cooed several times.

Zhao Jiu closed the door and removed the bamboo tube tied to the pigeon’s leg. It was exactly the same as the message from a few days earlier: a slip of paper marked with the Six of Circles.

Zhao Jiu stared blankly.

Could assassins also experience a sudden flood of orders?

He unfolded the note. There was another single line written on it:

Liangzhou again? Were the authorities here truly that incompetent? Two jobs in five days! It seemed Zhao Jiu had no choice but to come out of retirement!

Following the usual procedure, Zhao Jiu burned the note, replaced it with a blank slip marked with the Nine of Circles, and released the pigeon.

Zhao Jiu was very familiar with Prosperity Restaurant. It was the same restaurant where he had asked the Shopkeeper about nearby houses of pleasure several nights ago. The Shopkeeper’s refined yet shamelessly lecherous smile remained vivid in his memory.

The twenty-ninth was today.

So much for taking two days off.

That night, the wind and snow grew much heavier. A thin layer of snow accumulated across the courtyard and roof of The Little Tavern. By the time Zhao Jiu finished sweeping it away, the Xu Hour was nearly over.

He changed into a black padded coat and pulled a black robe over it. Then he activated Complete Transformation.

Zhao Jiu transformed into a tall, thin, middle-aged man with a long saber scar across his face. After attaching a beard, he looked exactly like a vicious criminal from the Jianghu.

He examined himself in the mirror. Only after confirming that there were no visible flaws did he leave for Prosperity Restaurant.

He arrived fifteen minutes later.

The first floor was filled with noisy conversation, but the moment Zhao Jiu entered, the volume dropped considerably.

Zhao Jiu raised his eyes and surveyed the room. Hardly any of the patrons looked like members of the Jianghu. Almost all of them were ordinary people, without even the slightest vigilance in their eyes.

He pushed aside the Shopkeeper, who had stepped forward to question him, and walked toward the second floor without saying a word.

The second floor was not much different from the first, except that only one table was occupied—the innermost one beside a window.

When he heard someone coming upstairs, the man drinking at that table turned and stared at Zhao Jiu.

Zhao Jiu likewise studied him.

The man had a few wisps of mustache. His clothes were neat, his sleeves were bound tightly, and he wore long boots. His eyes were sharp and bright, but there was not the slightest trace of killing intent around him.

This was probably the client.

Zhao Jiu walked over, sat opposite him, and said, “Ghost Market.”

The Mustached Man’s expression changed immediately. He asked solemnly, “Did you come after receiving the message?”

“The message from Jinguan City,” Zhao Jiu replied.

He casually picked up a cup, poured himself some wine, and began drinking.

The Mustached Man visibly relaxed. He removed his hand from the saber lying beside him.

“I understand the rules. How much does it cost to kill someone?”

Zhao Jiu drained the wine in his cup before answering.

“Two hundred taels. Who do you want dead?”

“Zhong Ling, the Gang Chief of the Qingsha Gang.”

“Who did you say?”

Zhao Jiu deliberately feigned surprise.

“The Gang Chief of the Qingsha Gang? That will cost more than two hundred taels.”

“How much?” the Mustached Man asked, lowering his eyes when he saw Zhao Jiu’s astonished expression.

“What rank is he? Let me make something clear first. Do not even bother asking if he is above the Third Rank. Few people in the Jianghu would dare accept such a job.”

“Fourth Rank.”

“Six hundred taels. Not a single tael less. If the information is wrong, I will not refund the deposit.”

Zhao Jiu was delighted inwardly, but his expression remained grave.

It matched.

Everything matched perfectly.

Now these were truly evenly matched opponents. No wonder they had managed to divide Liangzhou between them. Even their methods were identical: both had hired an Assassin.

As the saying went, an opponent understood you better than anyone else.

Their methods were so perfectly synchronized that even a married couple might not possess such tacit understanding!

Hiring assassins was one thing, but the two men had even contacted the same organization, and the same Assassin had accepted both jobs.

Did the Ghost Market not have a second Assassin?

Without Zhao Jiu, the entire Ghost Market would fall apart!

The Mustached Man smacked his lips several times, his expression solemn. He kept stroking a wisp of hair on his chin, apparently deep in thought.

“Fine. Six hundred taels it is. Five days from now, at Fortune Restaurant, kill Zhong Ling!”

Having seemingly made up his mind, the Mustached Man raised his voice slightly.

Zhao Jiu looked up at him with irritation.

“Why not shout a little louder? Better yet, go to the Prefect’s yamen and announce it there…”

Why was this man shouting?

There was still an entire crowd seated downstairs. How could he be so unprofessional?

Could he be some aging Jianghu drifter who had hired an Assassin merely to experience a little excitement?

The Mustached Man cupped his hands apologetically, showing no concern for Zhao Jiu’s mockery.

He took three banknotes worth one hundred taels each from his robes, placed them on the table, and pushed them toward Zhao Jiu.

“This is the deposit. Five days from now, at Fortune Restaurant.”

Afraid Zhao Jiu had not heard him clearly, he repeated it once more.

Zhao Jiu put away the banknotes.

This man was most likely only an errand runner. He was definitely not Zhong Ling. There was no possibility that a Gang Chief would behave like such a reckless fool.

“Fine. I understand. Just have the remaining payment ready.”

Zhao Jiu stuffed the banknotes into his pocket. Without waiting for the Mustached Man’s reaction, he stood, went downstairs, and left.