Calling at the Gate

Li Banfeng was worried that someone was striking from the shadows. The people dropping stones from the cliff needed crowbars just to shift a rock—could men like that really climb down a cliff dozens of meters high to murder a third-tier Dwelling Cultivator? Li Banfeng didn't believe it! He suspected someone inside Tiemenbao had killed Old Hu. Old Hu had refused to pay up and wanted to fight it out with the Feiying Mountain bandits. He was old and had arrived at Tiemenbao early on—his seniority was greater even than the fort lord's. Someone like that could easily become a target for elimination by the fort lord. Now that Old Hu was dead, whose turn was next? As Li Banfeng saw it, this time it should be Wu Yongchao. Wu Yongchao also advocated fighting, and his cultivation was high—an obvious threat to the fort lord. Why did Li Banfeng pin all his suspicions on the fort lord? Indeed, in Li Banfeng's eyes, the most suspicious person right now was this very fort lord. An eighth-tier Dwelling Cultivator, unable to keep bandits from his doorstep? Either his cultivation was fake, or he was colluding with the bandits to oppress these honest folk together. Li Banfeng cautioned repeatedly, "Whatever you do, do not step outside until you hear me calling at the gate." Wu Yongchao didn't understand. The dwelling spirit reminded him, "Listen to him, child. As long as you're inside the house, those bastards won't dare touch you. Even if they really do dare to come, the two of us will fight them together!" Wu Yongchao assumed Li Banfeng couldn't hear the dwelling spirit speak, but Li Banfeng heard every word loud and clear—he possessed the skill of Perceiving Spiritual Voices. This honest man was fortunate indeed: he had met a good dwelling spirit, and he had met a good "peddler." As Li Banfeng made to leave, Wu Yongchao stopped him. "Don't go out. Just stay here with me for now. If the fort lord finds out..." Li Banfeng smiled. "Letting an outsider stay in your home without consulting your dwelling spirit—that's a bad habit of yours. "I have ways to keep your fort lord in the dark. Just remember: when you hear me calling at the gate, you must open the door for me." If the fort lord were truly an eighth-tier Dwelling Cultivator, I would have been exposed long ago. If his cultivation isn't that high, then I'll have some real fun with him. At three in the morning, sickle in hand, Li Banfeng scaled the cliff face, relying on the agility of a Journey Cultivator. The sheer, vertical cliff was difficult to climb, and his hands were rubbed bloody. The liquor gourd spoke beside his ear, "Little brother, are you really going to meddle in this?" "Yes," Li Banfeng answered crisply. "These honest folk might not be of any use to you down the road." "That has nothing to do with whether they're useful." Li Banfeng climbed up onto the ledge and rested in the Portable Abode for a short while. As six o'clock approached, he returned to the ledge. People had already arrived on the platform—eleven men in total: ten laborers and one minor chief supervising. The group was cautiously preparing boulders. Seeing Li Banfeng arrive, the leading chief shuddered in fright and asked in a low voice, "Who are you?" Everyone stopped their work and glared fiercely at Li Banfeng. Li Banfeng kept his voice low. "The band sent me over to check on things. Just do your work and don't make a sound." The chief looked Li Banfeng up and down. "From the band? How come I've never seen you before?" Li Banfeng frowned. "You haven't seen me because you're not supposed to see me. What are you asking so much for?" "Which chieftain do you follow?" "Still asking?" Li Banfeng's frown deepened. The minor chief grew timid; Li Banfeng's demeanour was rather intimidating. It made sense, too: someone in the stronghold you didn't recognize was bound to be someone of status whom ordinary men couldn't casually question. "Well... er, you've got to tell me your root at least," the chief said, asking for his surname in bandit cant. "If our chief asks, I'll need something to account for myself." "Single Step Door," Li Banfeng answered—cant for the surname Li. Trading roots and untangling origins—basic bandit cant—Li Banfeng still understood well enough. "All right, then!" The chief dared not ask anything more and hurried his lackeys to get on with their work. Their task was to drop the stones the moment Vanguard Gunner Luo Dagui finished speaking. Eleven men was quite a few. Fighting this many at once without causing too much noise made Li Banfeng slightly concerned. Yet seeing how they worked, his mind was set at ease. Just as he had anticipated, anyone moving stones with carrying poles and crowbars was in all likelihood no master. Judging by their strength, these men weren't even cultivators. With a Half-Step, Li Banfeng appeared behind the minor chief, clamped a hand over his mouth with his left, and swept his knife with his right, slitting the man's throat first. The others were all head-down at work. Li Banfeng killed them one by one with a single blade each; nearly half were dead before anyone caught on. "What are you—" Li Banfeng thrust forward with his iron ruler, piercing the man's throat. The remaining five lackeys lunged forward together to fight for their lives. Wielding his Mandarin Duck Axes, Li Banfeng cut them all down. Both the dead and the half-dead were promptly sent into the Portable Abode. Once things were sorted out, Li Banfeng headed down the mountain. ... At six o'clock, Ma Dingfu came knocking at the door again. Wu Yongchao hid behind the door without making a peep. "Young Wu, you're a real man, but hiding like this won't solve anything. I know you're short on cash, so just tell me how much you can manage. Whatever you're missing, your older brother here will lend you. "If you keep hiding like this, that's completely out of line. We Dwelling Cultivators aren't spineless cowards. "If you truly can't afford your share, you can move out. Stalling here and gambling with everyone else's lives isn't what a real man does!" No matter what Ma Dingfu said, Wu Yongchao simply would not step outside. ... At the entrance of the mountain ravine, Sui Donglan hid in the dense weeds, waiting for the "peddler" to show up. She waited until nearly eight o'clock, but the peddler never came. *Whoooo! Whoooo!* The whistle sounded shrill and loud, and the steam gate swung shut. Not good—the bandits were here. Sui Donglan wanted to run, but her legs felt weak. After working up her courage for a long time, she finally managed to stand, only to see a dozen or so burly men marching over in the distance. These men wore thick robes and large fur hats, their faces hidden behind ferocious, grotesque masks. Carrying a massive wooden chest—a meter high, a meter wide, and over two meters long—they arrived before the valley gate. Sui Donglan scrambled back into the grass, covering her mouth as tears streamed down her cheeks, a warm stream pouring unchecked down her pant legs. These were bandits from Feiying Mountain! That godforsaken peddler insisted on making me wait here, and now I've run right into them! *Clang!* Several burly men lowered the massive wooden chest to the ground, threw open the lid, and turned a crank, raising an enormous horn loudspeaker eighty centimeters across from inside the box. What was that thing? The burly men glanced in all directions, seemingly checking if anyone else was around. Sui Donglan bit her lip until it bled, not daring to make a sound. "Fort Lord Zhou, are you home?" Luo Dagui called out. The sound suddenly blasted from the loudspeaker, shaking Sui Donglan's chest until it ached. So that was what they used to shout—no wonder the sound had been so thunderous. Sui Donglan remembered her past experience when Feiying Mountain slaughtered villages. Every time, the voices had been this loud, terrifying enough to scare people to death. She had assumed it was the technique of a high-tier cultivator; she never imagined the sound came from this contraption. The stream stopped. Sui Donglan didn't seem quite so frightened anymore. "Fort Lord Zhou, yesterday you spoke with me and asked for a few days' grace on the money. I agreed, and today I didn't kill any of your people! "But we need to make things clear. You asked to stall, so how exactly are we stalling? If you can't produce ten thousand silver dollars, you surely have three thousand! Let me take three thousand with me today!" Hearing this, the Dwelling Cultivators inside the fortress all had their eyes light up. Room for compromise! The fort lord was formidable after all—he had negotiated it down! Three thousand silver dollars was easy to scrape together: ten dollars per household would be plenty. Just as everyone was rejoicing, the voice outside shouted again, "Fort Lord Zhou, not answering, are you? Then don't blame me for getting rough!" Why wasn't Fort Lord Zhou answering? Did he refuse to pay even three thousand silver dollars? Luo Dagui said he was going to get rough—did that mean they were going to throw stones again? The Dwelling Cultivators were terrified. Yet no matter how afraid they were, they stayed inside their houses. Even if they were crushed to death indoors, they refused to abandon their dwellings. Ma Dingfu stood quietly in the middle of the road, knowing stones would come crashing down shortly. These Dwelling Cultivators simply needed to be knocked into shape. He waited for a good while, but no stones came. Ma Dingfu was perplexed, and outside the gate, Luo Dagui was puzzled as well. Did those wretched bastards not hear him clearly or what? "I really am going to get rough!" he bellowed once more. Behind him, someone cranked a wheel on the chest, making the sound significantly louder than before. They waited for a long time, but still no stones appeared. Luo Dagui panicked, realizing something might have gone wrong. "Forget it, Fort Lord Zhou! I don't want to ruin our good relations today. Three thousand silver dollars—I'll come collect it tomorrow. A few days later, I'll come for another three thousand. If you keep stalling and refuse to pay, we'll go back to the old rules—one head from your people every day!" Fort Lord Zhou finally spoke: "Vanguard Gunner Luo, you're ruthless enough. I, Zhou, yield to you. Tomorrow, I'll have the three thousand silver dollars sent to you." The Dwelling Cultivators inside the fortress were utterly dumbfounded. What did that mean? How was he ruthless? No stones had fallen from the cliff, and no one in the fortress had died—how was that "ruthless enough"? Sui Donglan was puzzled too. She had always assumed Fort Lord Zhou negotiated with Luo Dagui face-to-face, but she couldn't see Fort Lord Zhou anywhere; she only heard his voice. Was Fort Lord Zhou shouting from inside the fortress? Did he not dare come out? That showed rather poor mettle. Luo Dagui waved a hand, signaling his men to leave quickly. Sui Donglan let out a long breath, thinking this calamity had passed. *Clatter-drum, clatter-drum!* Hearing that drum, Sui Donglan wet herself again. Curses, why was he showing up now?! Carrying a burlap sack on his back and shaking a rattle drum, Li Banfeng walked right up in front of the group. "Don't be in such a hurry to leave. Let's negotiate a bit more. One head a day is too much—how about one head every two days?" Li Banfeng negotiated with them in all seriousness. Startled, Luo Dagui barked, "Who are you?" "A peddler!" Li Banfeng smiled. "I see that Tiemenbao is full of honest folk who don't know how to strike a deal, so I'm negotiating on their behalf. One head every two days—what do you say?" Luo Dagui said nothing. The dozen or so burly men beside him all drew their weapons. Li Banfeng smiled. "Since you're quiet, I'll take that as an agreement. Count them up first and see how many days' debt these heads cover!" He tossed the burlap sack to the ground, and eleven severed heads rolled out. Li Banfeng said, "One head every two days covers twenty-two days. Vanguard Gunner Luo, the math checks out, doesn't it?" Luo Dagui shouted, "Get him!" The dozen or so men charged at Li Banfeng. Li Banfeng swung his sickle at one man's face; the man leaned back to dodge. Li Banfeng twisted his wrist and swept the blade sideways, slitting the man's throat. Being able to dodge a blow proved this person had some cultivation. The others seemed to have some cultivation as well. Li Banfeng bellowed, "Open the gates! Fight them!" He was close to the big horn loudspeaker, which was still picking up sound. Inside the fortress, they heard it clearly—Li Banfeng was calling at the gate. He had called at the gate! Wu Yongchao heard it distinctly from inside his house. The dwelling spirit said, "When he said he'd call at the door, I thought he meant our own front door! Who knew he meant the fortress gates?! What do we do now?" "I have to open the gates for him!" Such was the stubbornness of a Dwelling Cultivator! "No, don't be reckless! Watch out for your fort lord!" "I have to open the gates for him!" Wu Yongchao dashed out the door and sprinted straight for the boiler room. Ma Dingfu was taken aback and shouted, "What do you think you're doing?" "Opening the gates to fight the bandits!" "You can't! I'm telling you, absolutely not! Without the fort lord's orders, no one is permitted to—" Ma Dingfu crept up behind Wu Yongchao, clutching a dagger in his hand. With less than ten paces between them, Wu Yongchao suddenly spun around. Holding a paintbrush in his hand, he whipped it around in a fluid motion, driving it straight into Ma Dingfu's chest. Clutching his chest, Ma Dingfu collapsed to the ground, the dagger slipping from his grip. "Trying to blindside me?!" Wu Yongchao gritted his teeth. "You're not fucking worthy!" He was an honest man, but being honest didn't make him a fool! With Li Banfeng's repeated warnings, how could he not have been on guard? "Bastard, did you kill Old Hu?!" Wu Yongchao stepped forward and kicked Ma Dingfu. Ma Dingfu didn't stir; he appeared already dead. Wu Yongchao dashed straight into the boiler room and roared at everyone inside, "Open the gates!" The men looked at one another, bewildered by Wu Yongchao's demand. Wu Yongchao didn't waste words; he charged forward to crank the steam valves. Several boiler workers stepped in to block him. "You can't! We need an order from the fort lord!" Wu Yongchao and the workers brawled in the boiler room. ... Outside the gates, the fighting was even fiercer. Li Banfeng brought down two men with his sickle. Two more tried to ambush him from behind, but the Tang dao suddenly unsheathed itself, lopping off two heads in two strikes, then whipped back around to cut down another charging at him head-on. "Every stroke claims a foe's head!" The Tang dao instantly shrank and slipped back into Li Banfeng's pocket. The teapot splashed out a wave of tea, scalding two to death. The liquor gourd sprayed a mist of alcohol, and Li Banfeng struck a match, burning three to death. The clock pendulum struck a man in the neck, instantly draining him dry, then swung around to strike another in the back of the head. Not one of these men possessed cultivation exceeding the second tier. Li Banfeng was a dual fourth-tier cultivator across two pathways; in the blink of an eye, he dispatched the dozen-plus burly men clean. Only Luo Dagui remained, and the man was remarkably composed. "Fine skills," Luo Dagui said. He cranked the handle to retract the large horn loudspeaker, and once he confirmed it was no longer picking up sound, he said to Li Banfeng, "Which path do you walk?" Li Banfeng shook the rattle drum in his hand. "A peddler—naturally the Peddler's Path." "We bear no grudge in ordinary times. Back when I entered the pathway, I even took your medicinal powder. In a way, you could say we have an affinity." "Is that so?" Li Banfeng feigned surprise. "You must have taken my junior brother's powder. But having said that, what pathway do you actually belong to? Judging by your posture, you don't look like a Martial Cultivator. You're a Deception Cultivator, aren't you?" Luo Dagui nodded. "Right on the mark. I am a Deception Cultivator—seventh tier." Seventh tier! The rumors had gotten his pathway wrong, but they had gotten his tier right—this bastard really was seventh tier. Li Banfeng took half a step back. Luo Dagui chuckled. "Friend, whether you're the senior brother or the junior brother, you've gained enough advantage today and recouped enough face. I advise you to quit while you're ahead. "You keep claiming to be the peddler, but if I'm not mistaken, your level is far below his. If I truly make a move, you won't last a single exchange. "The only reason I'm holding back is out of concern that you really do have ties to the peddler, and I don't want to offend the real peddler over a petty piece of business like Tiemenbao. "You know what the name Feiying Mountain commands in these parts. There's no need for us to forge a deadly feud. We each take a step back today and leave it at that. What do you think?" The overbearing aura made Li Banfeng's hands tremble slightly. Dual fourth-tier cultivation against a seventh tier—could it be done? Two fourth tiers added together made eighth tier, didn't they? Nonsense! How could anyone calculate it like that! Was he truly seventh tier? Would a seventh-tier cultivator bring such a bunch of small fry out to do battle? While Li Banfeng was pondering, he suddenly heard the steam gate groan. *Chug! Chug! Chug!* Wu Yongchao had knocked out all the workers in the boiler room and forced the gates open. Li Banfeng gritted his teeth! There were two to three hundred Dwelling Cultivators inside the fortress, and this was right at their doorstep. The highest cultivation among them was fourth tier. Did they have a chance at winning? Li Banfeng sighed. "Very well. We each take a step back today." "Good!" Luo Dagui nodded, commending him. "Knowing when to advance and when to yield, understanding reason—you'll amount to something great in the future..." Before he could finish, Li Banfeng closed in with a Half-Step. If Dwelling Cultivators can't even protect their own doors, what kind of Dwelling Cultivators are they?! Time to fight it out! Li Banfeng swung his sickle, slicing toward the man's throat. He didn't expect this strike to hit; he only sought to seize the initiative. Luo Dagui most likely wasn't seventh tier. I'll press him first, and when the Dwelling Cultivators charge out of the fortress to flank him from both sides, we'll strive to— The head dropped. As Li Banfeng's blade swept past, Luo Dagui's head came off. His... Li Banfeng picked up Luo Dagui's head and stared at it for a long time, countless thoughts swirling in his mind. With this fucking cultivation, he can be the vanguard gunner of a bandit stronghold?! Is the bar for bandits really that low? Where on earth did that overbearing aura of his come from? Was that an innate talent of Deception Cultivators? The steam gate opened. Wu Yongchao stood at the entrance, gazing nervously at the "peddler." Behind him, a crowd of Dwelling Cultivators all looked nervously at the "peddler." Li Banfeng held up Luo Dagui's head and shouted to the crowd, "The vanguard gunner of Feiying Mountain is dead!" The Dwelling Cultivators could hardly believe the "peddler" would kill someone from Feiying Mountain. They couldn't understand why the "peddler" would help them. They could hardly even believe that the head in the "peddler's" hand truly belonged to Luo Dagui. Seeing their skeptical gazes, Li Banfeng pulled off Luo Dagui's mask. "Look closely! Do you recognize him? Do you remember him? "You are Dwelling Cultivators! No matter who attacks your doorstep, you must take their head! Defending your home is the dignity of a Dwelling Cultivator!" The Dwelling Cultivators were deeply moved, and quite a few even shed tears. Li Banfeng thought his words sounded rather touching as well. A woman cried out, "Fort Lord!" Li Banfeng froze. What lord? Are they calling me the fort lord? This is a bit too... Li Banfeng actually felt a little embarrassed. Wu Yongchao said in a trembling voice, "You killed the fort lord." Did he mean... This was... The fort lord? Li Banfeng stared at Luo Dagui's head for a moment. He uttered with deep emotion, "Well, fuck..." PS: How could he be the fort lord? Wasn't the fort lord just talking to him moments ago?