"Idiot!"
*Smack!*
Accompanied by a resounding slap, Meng Haicheng crashed to the ground.
Blood and broken teeth spilled from his mouth, and grey dust coated his clothes. Combined with the blood seeping through the bandage around his neck, he made an utterly pathetic sight.
Yet Meng Haicheng dared not even breathe too loudly. He scrambled up at once, dropped to his knees, and broke into a cold sweat across his brow.
This was a sizable blacksmith's smithy.
In the outer courtyard stood a row of battered forges burning crimson. The ground was strewn with slag and cinders, where a crowd of bare-chested men swung sledgehammers and hand hammers in rhythmic alternation.
*Clang! Clang! Clink! Clank!*
Amid the deafening clatter of forging iron, sparks showered in every direction.
In the inner courtyard, however, a gang of men clad in diverse garb and covered in tattoos lounged or squatted. Under the dim candlelight, their faces looked grim and vicious.
The air hung heavy with a suffocating stench—a nauseating blend of rank sweat, tobacco, and the sour funk of unwashed garments worn for days on end.
This was the headquarters of the Iron Saber Gang.
Directly atop the steps in the inner courtyard, a man sat sprawled in a grand armchair.
He was exceptionally tall and burly, with scruffy stubble, dark swarthy skin, and harsh, rugged features that gave him an intimidating presence.
Yet he wore a bright scarlet robe—and wore it sloppily, leaving his right arm and shoulder bare to reveal a black tiger tattooed across his dark skin.
A small skullcap perched on his head, and a flower was tucked behind his ear, lending him a bizarre, grotesque appearance.
This was none other than the Iron Saber Gang's chief, Zheng Heibei.
Originally a blacksmith in Xianyang City, he had been endowed with superhuman strength from youth and had practiced his family's Tongbei Fist. Possessing a fiery temper, he had gathered a band of troublemakers and constantly brawled with others.
After offending someone influential and being thrown into jail for several days of harsh discipline, his wits finally sharpened. He kowtowed to enter Zhou Pan's tutelage, and soon after, established the Iron Saber Gang.
Though the western quarter of the city was far less bustling than the east, his Iron Saber Gang bullied the markets and effectively monopolized the entire city's blacksmith trade, yielding handsome profits.
At this moment, Zheng Heibei sat boldly in his chair, rolling a pair of walnuts in his palm as he stared down coldly at the kneeling Meng Haicheng.
"Do you even realize where you were an idiot?"
Meng Haicheng groaned inwardly. "I shouldn't have agreed to a life-or-death duel in the ring."
He was an old hand in the jianghu; only after leaving had he realized he'd been duped.
His side had clearly held the advantage in numbers. He should have backed out of his word on the spot and had everyone swarm forward to hack Li Yan to death. Who would have known then that Li Hu's son had ever come to Xianyang?
Unfortunately, he had truly been terrified back then.
Whenever he recalled those eyes of Li Yan's, a chill still ran down his spine.
"Hmph!"
Ignorant of what was running through his mind, Zheng Heibei sneered from above. "A wet-behind-the-ears kid fresh to the jianghu played you like a fiddle. No wonder you've sunk to this state.
"What does he count for? Hacking him to death would have been the end of it; we could have found any scapegoat to take the fall. Now look at you—you've turned it into a formal martial duel. Win or lose, it slaps our master's face!"
Meng Haicheng grew even more alarmed. He ground his teeth and said, "How about I take our men right now and flay him alive!"
"Too late!"
Zheng Heibei said coldly, "Everyone on the streets of Xianyang is talking about this right now. If you go butcher him now, won't you just make us the laughingstock of the city?"
Meng Haicheng was left speechless, despair gnawing at his gut.
Had he known, he would have pretended he'd never recognized the brat in the first place.
Up above, Zheng Heibei fell pensive for a moment before turning his head toward the man beside him. His tone softened considerably. "Master You, I hear that brat is traveling with a Xuanmen Taoist. Do you know what they plan to do?"
"Nothing more than inviting a deity."
The speaker was a middle-aged man.
His features and accent were completely different from those of the Guanzhong folk, bearing the clear marks of Jiangzuo. He wore a black robe, let his hair hang loose over his shoulders, and sported a long, drooping mustache.
Even more peculiar was his forehead, where a Taiji diagram was drawn in cinnabar.
This man went by You Laosi, an occultist from Jiangzuo skilled in nightmare hexes and curses. Having crossed someone powerful, he had fled from place to place in hiding.
Upon learning of him, Zheng Heibei had secretly taken him in.
Over the past several years, the sudden, unnatural deaths of several rivals had been the handiwork of this You Laosi, earning him Zheng Heibei's utmost reliance.
Stroking his long mustache, the occultist You Laosi sneered, "That Taoist is named Wang Daoxuan. His skills are mediocre. All he wants to do is invoke a Yin deity so it can shield them when they take on dangerous jobs.
"To invoke a Yin deity, one cannot avoid going to the mass graves, most likely tomorrow night.
"And those mass graves are the territory of the Western Beggars. Chief, send someone over to pass word along. If they stir up trouble during the ritual, those people won't escape a fatal backlash.
"Once they're dead, who gives a damn about some duel in the ring!"
"A brilliant idea, Master You!"
Zheng Heibei pondered for a moment. "Ergou, you go. Remember to be polite; those beggars are somewhat uncanny."
"Understood, Eldest Brother!"
A sharp-chinned, monkey-faced man stepped out from the crowd.
"Hold on,"
the occultist You Laosi suddenly interjected. "If you just waltz in like that, I guarantee you won't even catch sight of anyone before throwing your life away. Let me tell you what to do..."
"Many thanks for your guidance, Master!"
Ergou committed every instruction to memory, cupped his fists, and departed.
***
The Iron Saber Gang's stronghold lay in the eastern quarter of Xianyang.
After leaving the smithy, the monkey-faced fellow, Ergou, mounted a swift horse. Passing through the Changping Granary and skirting the Horse King Temple, he rode out of Xianyang through the northwestern gate.
Compared to the ancient ferry crossing to the south, the northern gate was far more desolate.
Amid the autumn rain, a tall memorial archway stood solitary against the open wastes. Only a few scattered commoners walked the muddy post road, all villagers from nearby hamlets.
Wearing a bamboo rain hat, Ergou galloped his horse forward.
As dusk approached, he drew near a low hill.
Or rather, it barely qualified as a hill.
The Guanzhong Plain was ringed by mountains on all four sides. Whether the Qinling Mountains and Mount Zhongnan to the south, Mount Hua and Mount Li to the east, or Mount Liang and other ranges to the north, all dwarfed this small dirt mound.
Yet its renown fell not a bit short of theirs.
Through wars, famines, plagues, and bloody clashes among the jianghu, the sprawling city of Xianyang saw many unclaimed corpses day after day.
Such bodies, naturally, could not be left out in the open.
Even criminals beheaded on the execution grounds had someone to bury them.
And this task had been handed over to the Western Beggars' Gang.
They had no care for proper funerals; most corpses were merely wrapped in a cheap straw mat. Unless some benefactor made a charitable donation, only coarse, paper-thin deal coffins were used—boxes so flimsy they were nicknamed "dog-bumpers."
Paying no heed to feng shui, they buried them haphazardly across the hill.
This place was the Xianyang mass graves.
Accumulated over untold years, unclaimed solitary mounds blanketed the hill. Gnarled old trees twisted in disarray, crows fluttered in chaotic flocks, and packs of feral dogs roamed freely.
Beneath the autumn rain, it lay murky and dim, resembling the underworld itself.
Ordinary citizens of Xianyang would never dare set foot here.
Even Ergou, a hardened rogue of the Iron Saber Gang, felt his flesh creep at the sight. He couldn't resist spitting and muttering a curse under his breath: *Festering bastards... of all places, they just had to live in this godforsaken hole...*
Of course, he only dared vent his grievance in his heart.
The Beggars' Gang of Xianyang had never been easy to cross.
Years ago, during the great drought and plague, the Maitreya Sect had risen in rebellion. Following that upheaval, the beggars had moved their den into these hills, their movements growing bizarre and elusive.
They claimed it was to escape the ravages of war, yet even after peace returned, they never moved back.
Some suspected they were secretly colluding with the Maitreya Sect. A Commandant of Fleet Cavalry stationed in Xianyang had even sent scouts to investigate before leading troops on a sweep, hoping to claim military merit.
Yet they had returned empty-handed.
Gradually, the people grew accustomed to the beggar den nestled in the mass graves.
In the jianghu, however, far darker tales circulated about these beggars.
For instance, they supposedly possessed strange arts that bewitched the soul, frequently colluding with the city's slave brokers to abduct women and children...
Or that they charmed venomous snakes and scorpions, and could even command the feral dogs here...
Several jianghu bladesmen who had crossed the Beggars' Gang had met mysterious, gruesome ends.
In short, these beggars were uncanny and sinister to the core.
By now, dusk was settling into full night. With the damp autumn mist, visibility was terribly poor.
His nerves on edge, Ergou dismounted, lifted a paper lantern, and moved forward with cautious steps, constantly glancing left and right to watch his surroundings.
Looking upon the endless expanse of untended graves, even a cutthroat like him—who wouldn't flinch at three blades and six punctures—felt his scalp tighten and the hairs on his neck stand on end.
*Woof! Woof! Woof!*
The moment he stepped onto the mountain path, furious canine snarls rang out.
Through the dark, sodden mist, pairs of blood-red eyes materialized.
*Clang!*
Startled, Ergou instinctively drew the saber at his waist.
The feral dog packs of the mass graves were legendary terrors in Xianyang.
Sustained on a diet of corpses, they were fiercely aggressive. People had even witnessed them attacking wolf packs; devouring a living person was child's play to them.
Remembering Master You's instructions, Ergou swallowed his terror, swiftly sheathed his blade, and cupped his fists, shouting at the top of his lungs:
"Drinking from the same river, sharing the eternal evergreen! Lu Ergou has come to burn incense, requesting an audience with you all!"
No sooner had the words left his lips than sharp commands barked from the distance.
Accompanied by the rustle of paws padding over dirt, those glowing red eyes vanished into the gloom.
Ergou shivered inwardly. These beggars truly could command the wild hounds.
Before long, a dark silhouette emerged through the misty drizzle. Carrying no lantern, the figure was hunched and stooped. A raspy voice asked:
"Where does the honored guest hail from?"
"The ancient capital of the King of Qin."
"Do you know the weight of the jianghu?"
"Four jin, twenty-three liang, five qian, four fen, nine li, and eight hao in total!"
"What are the four fen, nine li, and eight hao?"
"The Four Seas, Nine Rivers, and Eight Streams."
"Where does our brother make his bowl?"
"I dare not boast; I hustle for food under Master Zheng."
"Follow me."
Having exchanged the secret argot of the jianghu and verified his background, the shadow finally raised a lantern. The light revealed an old beggar in tattered rags with matted hair and a grime-streaked face.
Ergou exhaled a breath of relief and followed closely behind.
Along the path, he felt as though unseen eyes were watching him from every patch of darkness, yet he dared not peer about, thinking once more how sinister this lot truly was.
At last, as they wound deeper into the hills, the faint glow of firelight appeared ahead...
Chapter 33