Nine in the evening.
Fed and rested, Li Xiuwen had a small cup of liquor to stiffen his courage, then put on loose, baggy clothes, tucked the Butterfly and the Soul-Crushing Powder up his sleeve, and slipped out the door in the dark.
Downstairs, he ran into his aunt.
"Ah Wen, going out this late?"
"I'm meeting friends to practice boxing tonight."
"Come home early. The Walled City has gotten messier and messier lately—bodies turn up in the sewers every single day. Alas..."
"Don't worry."
"And if you run into Brother Ji, don't act on impulse. Money lost wards off disaster—swallow the humiliation and bide your time. When someday you have real ability, then we'll fight our way back!"
"Got it."
Li Xiuwen had not yet told his aunt that tonight he would be meeting Brother Ji face to face. He feared she would worry, and he didn't want trouble landing on his family.
The Walled City might be a lawless patch no authority governed, but killing was killing—no caution was too much.
His aunt watched Li Xiuwen vanish into the night wind.
"That boy—learning boxing really has changed him. Bolder now. He even dares go out at night."
...
These days the Walled City was anything but peaceful. At night every household locked its doors and windows tight, and the lights burned dim.
Out on the street, Li Xiuwen came to the spot he and Brother Ji had agreed on, studying the surrounding terrain so that he could bolt if anything went wrong.
A manhole cover lifted, and Brother Ji stuck his head out, grinning. "You came."
"Brother Ji, just say the word. What do you need your little brother to do? I'm all thumbs—I'm afraid I might bungle your big business." Li Xiuwen bent at the waist, smiling.
"Timid, sure, but you've got some learning. You'd be well suited to making the drugs." Brother Ji laughed.
"Just don't make me use the stuff. My body's weak—I'd like to live a few more years." Li Xiuwen answered meekly.
"Get down here and we'll talk properly. I killed somebody a while back, and lately some punk won't stop hounding me. I need to lie low till the heat blows over." Brother Ji beckoned him down.
Li Xiuwen hesitated a moment, then came to the mouth of the sewer with a strained look on his face.
The stench of excrement, of sewage, of rotting corpses and blood—foul smells of every kind rushed up at him.
This stench was the Walled City's first line of defense against outsiders. Having lived here so long, Li Xiuwen had simply gotten used to it.
"Brother Ji, you actually live down here?"
"Sure do. Why?"
"It's not like you're short of money. Couldn't you get yourself a place in the Walled City?"
"You wouldn't understand. For men in our line of work, down here is the most comfortable place there is."
Inside the sewer, Li Xiuwen discovered a hidden world. To himself he marveled: This really is... a Dragon Palace.
In the dim light lay a crisscrossing network of pipes stretching beyond sight, like a maze.
"Quite the eye-opener, eh?" Brother Ji walked in front; Li Xiuwen followed behind.
"Brother Ji, where are we going?"
"To meet Third Master. I'm bringing you into the Thirteen Taibao! And remember this! The matter of my having you make the drugs—take it to your grave. Tell no one, or else you know what happens."
Brother Ji clearly had ambitions of his own, hiding even this from Third Master, planning to strike out on his own.
Li Xiuwen didn't care about that.
He feared Third Master.
He had no idea how strong Third Master was.
But the man who headed the Thirteen Taibao, who could rein in a vicious character like Brother Ji, was surely no ordinary fighter—likely already at the Purple Membrane stage.
Third Master had run the streets a long time, was rich in fighting experience, had other trained fighters around him, and might even have guns. For now, he could not be fought head-on.
Li Xiuwen thought it over, then asked, as if in passing, "Brother Ji—does Third Master know I'm coming?"
"He doesn't. And honestly, with a timid streak like yours, it's not certain you'd even catch Third Master's eye." Brother Ji sneered.
"Understood. I'll put on a good showing." Li Xiuwen let out a breath of relief. If Third Master didn't know, then this would be easy.
"Be my little brother and I'll see you don't lose out. One day, there'll surely be a place for you in the Longjin Road Thirteen Taibao." Unaware that death was closing in, Brother Ji went on making empty promises.
"Brother Ji, you're a true brother!" Li Xiuwen chimed along, keeping the man's vigilance at its lowest.
Passing a corner, he staggered—his foot slid—and with a startled cry he crashed into Brother Ji.
"What the hell's wrong with you?" Brother Ji cursed.
"Stepped on something. Rotten banana peel, probably. Sorry, Brother Ji."
"A spineless shrimp—can't even keep your feet. How will you ever run the streets with me?"
"You're right, Brother Ji. So I've decided... not to run them with you at all!"
Before the last word had even fallen, Li Xiuwen moved.
Shhk!
The Butterfly sank to the hilt into his chest, and hot blood jetted along the blade, spattering half of Li Xiuwen's face.
Brother Ji's whole body jolted. He turned his head in disbelief—
and a fistful of acrid, biting powder blew full into his face.
He choked and coughed...
His eye sockets swelled red in an instant, his eyes flooding with bloodshot streaks, his vision beginning to blur.
The cold blade drove in through his back, into the pit of his left heart. It hurt—how it hurt.
"You..." was all he could force from his throat.
"Eat shit!" Li Xiuwen's face twisted; with both hands locked deathly tight on the hilt, he drove forward with every ounce of his strength.
The blade sank another inch, straight through.
The Butterfly was a small knife; it slid all the way inside and vanished from sight.
Brother Ji's pupils shrank to two black dots.
Dying, his ferocity flared. He slammed a shoulder into Li Xiuwen and knocked him back, and his right fist, as big as a punching bag, swung in a great round arc, smashing toward Li Xiuwen's face with a wind-tearing whoosh.
With that punch he was confident he could cave Li Xiuwen's face in.
At his Green Membrane level—if not for the blade's sneak attack, how could a kid like this ever have hurt him?
The knife was buried in the body now. Li Xiuwen raised his hand.
Beneath the loose sleeves, the skin and membranes of both his arms were faintly suffused with a rich green light.
Veins coiled beneath the membrane—the hibernating dragon had awakened.
He slapped the oncoming fist aside with one palm; the crack of shattering bone mingled with Brother Ji's muffled groan.
His fist was knocked flying off at an angle, his whole arm gone numb—and before he could pull it back, Li Xiuwen's second palm was already following.
Backstab!
Powder throw!
Palm strike!
The whole chain came like lightning—Brother Ji had no time to react at all.
The Flipping Sand Palm, hammered through a thousand refinements, landed square on his neck.
Crack.
The sound of splitting bone burst like dry firewood in a blazing fire, and Brother Ji's head tipped sideways at an unnatural angle.
Before he could even fall, another palm from Li Xiuwen chased him down.
Under that crushing force his whole body flew sideways, his head slamming the sheet-metal wall of the pipe with a thud, the muffled boom rolling out through the narrow passage.
Flipping Sand Palm—Great Waves Washing the Sand!
Li Xiuwen had no experience of killing, and he didn't know whether Brother Ji was dead or not.
One palm. Then another!
Until red and white streamed down Brother Ji's cheeks, his body stopped twitching, and there was no more movement.
Li Xiuwen stopped, dragging in great heaving breaths. The reek of blood brought him back down to calm.
Brother Ji's eyes were still open, his pupils blown wide, the shock of his final instant still lodged inside them.
"Green Membrane..."
Right up to his death, Brother Ji never managed to understand one thing:
the weakling he had slapped unconscious just a month ago,
the useless coward who hadn't dared even raise a hand in return—
how had he suddenly become a Green Membrane expert stronger than himself, one who had clearly been steeped in this art for a very long time?
And an expert of that level, just to bring him down, had still needed to scheme out a strike from ambush and resort to hidden weapons.
Cowardly to this degree—he was still the Ah Wen he knew, after all...",
Chapter 18