Speak Up, Then!

The arena match between Night Fragrance and the Pure Observance Society caused a tremendous sensation in Heishipo. Before the match, Tang Peigong had marched over in grand fashion to accept the challenge, flying banners, accompanied by reporters, and flanked by more than a hundred disciples. On the way back, his disciples had fetched a stretcher, summoned a doctor, and run all the way back to their estate wailing and howling. Tang Peigong was gravely injured. The Pure Observance Society had taken a heavy blow. The disciples wept and complained everywhere, claiming that Night Fragrance had flouted the rules by resorting to violence in what was supposed to be a verbal arena match. The Pure Observance Society had close ties with the major gangs, and those major gangs controlled the city's large newspaper offices. In terms of publicity reach, the Pure Observance Society held an advantage over Night Fragrance. Yet in terms of optics, the Pure Observance Society suffered a catastrophic setback. No matter how they tried to spin it, they had lost, and they had lost hideously. What was more, Martial Elder Wu Decheng refused to take a clear stance throughout. He never clarified whether the agreement between the two parties had been for a verbal match or a martial match, saying only that there might have been a bit of a misunderstanding. The notables serving as witnesses were similarly at a loss for words, as they had never figured out what the match's rules were actually supposed to be. After three days, the whole of Heishipo remembered only one thing: Night Fragrance had beaten the Pure Observance Society in the arena, and the society's elder had been pummeled into the dirt, nearly beaten to death. Cinemas across the region began screening Bloodgun Detective. The previous warnings issued by the Pure Observance Society were treated by everyone like hot air. Night Fragrance sold better and better, and the printing workload grew heavier by the day. To run extra copies of the periodical, Ma the Fifth stayed up until three in the morning. He had barely slept for two hours when a loud, wailing blast suddenly tore through the air. "What happened?!" Ma the Fifth jolted upright in fright and scrambled out of bed. Stepping outside, he saw that everyone except Li Banfeng had been jolted awake. The sound had come from the roof. There was a steam whistle on the roof, used by the factory to signal shift changes, meals, and bedtime. The boiler was broken and there was no steam, so how was that whistle blowing? While Ma the Fifth was puzzling over the reason, Xiao Chuanzi ran over with soot all over his face. "Fifth Master, the boiler is fixed!" "Which boiler?" "The one in the courtyard!" Ma the Fifth snapped in frustration, "What did you fix that for?!" Xiao Chuanzi hung his head and said nothing. He hadn't closed his eyes for three days and three nights, working tirelessly until he finally got the boiler running. Ma the Fifth composed himself for a moment before saying, "Well, since the boiler's fixed, go buy a proper printing press so we don't have to break our backs like this." Xiao Chuanzi beamed with joy and went off happily to buy a printing press. Li Banfeng slept until noon, emerging refreshed from the Portable Abode. He took a couple of laps around the factory and was just about to head into the city for a stroll when someone came to report that Elder Wu Decheng of the Pure Observance Society had arrived again. Li Banfeng had a clean workshop tidied up, and the two sat facing each other. "Elder Wu, tea is brewing. It'll be ready in a moment. The poison I put in this time is quite something—neither bitter nor astringent, with not a trace of an off-flavor. You must have a taste shortly." Wu Decheng chuckled and shook his head. "Boss Ye, you hit too hard. I'm afraid Elder Tang won't be able to get out of bed for half a year to a year." Li Banfeng looked quite helpless. "Elder Wu, why did you have him enter the arena? Wasn't he just walking straight to his own death? The fact that my men left him with his life is already a stroke of luck for him." Wu Decheng nodded. "There's truth to that. The next arena match is set for tomorrow evening. Don't forget our previous agreement." Li Banfeng smiled. "Rest assured. Isn't it just sending a few people to go through the motions? I definitely won't forget!" Wu Decheng rose to take his leave, and Li Banfeng saw him to the door. Watching his receding figure, Li Banfeng tapped the clock pendulum at his waist. "This time I'll have to count on your help." "Master, whatever orders you have, just say the word." ... Wu Decheng left the Night Fragrance newspaper office and returned to his manor. Four disciples sat upright in his study: a fifth-layer Martial Cultivator named Wu Rongjin, a fifth-layer Literary Cultivator named Rao Shaofeng, a fourth-layer body cultivator named Cheng Ziyan, and a fourth-layer Poison Cultivator named Yue Qingsong. These four disciples were the most formidable fighters under Wu Decheng's command. Wu Decheng poured each of them a cup of wine. "Gentlemen, following me all these years, you've suffered your share of grievances—especially from Tang Peigong, who pushed you around plenty." Raising their cups, the four chorused, "Your disciples did so willingly!" "Tomorrow's battle concerns our glory and disgrace in this life. If we win, Heishipo will be ours from now on; if we lose, we won't have a place to stand here anymore. "Before stepping into the arena tomorrow, look closely. If that man Ye enters the ring, I will enter as well. If he doesn't, I will watch from below. "I have an agreement with him. In this fight, Ye is coming with the intention of conceding. He will certainly send some rabble into the ring just to go through the motions. "Do not hold back. No matter whom he sends, strike to kill. If Ye enters the arena, slaughter him along with them. If he stays out, kill everyone on the stage, then charge down and cut him down! "Don't worry about the guards around him. When the time comes, I will strike alongside you!" With the plan settled, his eldest disciple, the fifth-layer Martial Cultivator Wu Rongjin, voiced a concern: "Master, if we kill Ye outright, won't it invite public censure?" "Censure for what?" Wu Decheng laughed. "Saying we were too ruthless? But who told them to step into the ring? In an arena match, who can afford to be delicate? "Tang Peigong was beaten into that pathetic state—did anyone pity him? Even if a few people whisper about it at first, three or five days later they'll have forgotten all about it. "People in this world remember only winners. No matter how pitifully losers plead their case, it only adds to everyone else's amusement. "Remember this above all: bring back Ye's head, and Heishipo will belong to us!" ... The next day at five-thirty in the evening, both sides arrived at the arena on time. The factory workers had just finished their shifts and, without even stopping to eat, rushed over in droves to watch the match. "Who do you think will win this time?" "I heard that this one's a proper martial match. Elder Wu is personally taking the field—Boss Ye is as good as dead." "You said he was as good as dead last time too, but didn't Boss Ye still win?" "Last time was different..." "Cut the nonsense. A hundred Huan Country notes on Boss Ye—do you dare take the bet?" The spectators had already started placing bets. Looking thoroughly sleepy, Li Banfeng strolled up to the edge of the stage and greeted Wu Decheng. "Elder Wu, should I concede as soon as I get up there, or trade a few blows first?" Wu Decheng frowned. "Boss Ye, don't joke like that. Once we're on the stage, we each rely on our own skill." "Fine, rely on skill. Imagine taking playacting so seriously..." Li Banfeng yawned and called three people to step onto the stage. Just as Wu Decheng had anticipated, this man Ye had come fully intending to surrender, and his attitude was remarkably casual. None of the capable fighters from before had shown up. The three who stepped onto the platform were an absolute eyesore. One was a burly man, quite tall, but exceedingly pudgy; he didn't look in the least like a martial practitioner. The other two were short and gaunt, looking as though they hadn't eaten a square meal in days, their footing unsteady. A glance at their attire showed coarse cloth garments covered in grease stains, their faces smeared with coal dust. This was far too half-hearted. Ye had probably just hired a few workers who had just come off shift at the factory, intending to phone it in and be done with it. Wu Decheng lowered his voice. "Boss Ye, these are your men?" Li Banfeng snorted. "What of it? Look down on them? The men you brought last time weren't much to write home about either!" Wu Decheng glanced at Li Banfeng's side; he hadn't even brought along a single guard. Fine, young man. You're arrogant enough. Just make sure you don't cry later! A blast of the whistle signaled both sides to prepare. Wu Decheng's four disciples climbed onto the stage. Li Banfeng frowned. "What's the meaning of this? I only have three men, and you put up four? Bullying the few with the many?" His voice was rather loud, and the onlookers broke into hushed chatter. Wu Decheng said nothing. His disciple, the fifth-layer Literary Cultivator Rao Shaofeng, stepped forward and said, "Boss Ye, aren't you here as well? Why not step up and spar a bit?" Li Banfeng scowled. "Why should I go up? It's a loss either way. Go make a fool of myself?" Wu Decheng quickly cut off the topic. If this went on, Ye might let the cat out of the bag. "Three on three works as well. Qingsong, stay down." Yue Qingsong, the fourth-layer Poison Cultivator, stepped down from the platform and took a position beside Wu Decheng. The whistle blew a second time, locking in the participants with no backing out allowed. The whistle blasted a third time, and the fight began. The fifth-layer Martial Cultivator Wu Rongjin was the first to charge, heading straight for the burly man. Among the three, this burly fellow looked like the only one who might withstand a blow or two. The burly man didn't dare fight and quickly backed away. A gaunt man, hunching low, slipped up beside Wu Rongjin and stuck out a foot, sending him stumbling. Wu Rongjin swung a backhand punch toward the man. The man dodged with ease and said with a beaming smile, "Missed, didn't you? How are you this stupid?" Wu Rongjin raised his leg to kick him, but the man evaded once more. "Are you blind or what? Where are you kicking? I'm over here!" This fellow's words were infuriating. Wu Rongjin pursued him relentlessly, while the man dodged and jeered with a laugh: "Tell me, how did your mother give birth to such a useless wretch? A grown man who can't even walk straight! Look at those clumsy feet of yours—can't even tell left from right! With a sorry excuse of a body like that, you dare enter the arena? You couldn't even catch a fresh pile of shit while it's hot!" Wu Rongjin flew into a rage. Abandoning all caution, his strikes wild and his stance overly wide, he gave the man an opening. A swift kick landed squarely on his shin. The blow didn't carry much force, but the precision was lethal. Wu Rongjin's legs tangled together, and he fell flat on his face. The gaunt man chuckled. "What did I tell you? Can't even catch a fresh pile while it's hot." The pudgy burly man behind him chimed in, "Don't say that. There is fresh hot stuff." He pulled a small bucket out from his clothes and slammed it down over Wu Rongjin's head. A wave of nausea hit Wu Rongjin. Before he could yank the bucket off, the gaunt man snapped his shinbone with a kick, crushed his arm underfoot, and kicked him straight off the platform. Who was this man? How was he so formidable? This wasn't a man at all. It was the Street-Scolding Crone. The clock pendulum had a knack for makeup and disguise, having dressed the Street-Scolding Crone up to look like a man. Truth be told, the pendulum's disguise techniques had improved tremendously; even Li Banfeng hadn't recognized her at first. The face could be disguised, but her build could not. The old lady was naturally so frail and slight, and disguised as a man, she looked even more scrawny. Lying on the ground, Wu Rongjin cursed loudly, "What are you waiting for?! Why didn't you come help me?!" He was cursing his two junior brothers. In a three-on-three match, they had just stood by and watched him take a beating alone. His two junior brothers had wanted to help, but their hands were tied—they had been pinned down by the other gaunt man. Fighting two at once, that gaunt man didn't lose an inch of ground. This was Ah Qin, a sixth-layer body cultivator. Wu Rongjin had already been knocked off the stage. By the rules, he could not re-enter, which made it two against three. They hadn't even been able to gain the upper hand two-on-one. How were they supposed to fight two against three? Rao Shaofeng, the fifth-layer Literary Cultivator, barked angrily, "No outnumbering the few!" It was the technique: Common Script, Shared Rule. The pudgy burly man clutched his bucket and said, "Then I won't fight." This burly man was Xiao Genzi, with only a second-layer cultivation. If you say don't fight, we won't fight—he couldn't beat them anyway. With four people left, two on two, they faced off for a brief moment before Rao Shaofeng shouted at the top of his lungs, "Upward on the whirlwind, soaring ninety thousand li!" He leapt into the air, preparing to strike from above. Ninety thousand li was out of the question, but the Words Become Truth technique did indeed send him soaring quite high—at least seven or eight meters. Ah Qin's true form was a katydid. Spreading his wings, he bounded into the air, caught Rao Shaofeng's ankle with one hand, swung him in a circle midair, and slammed him violently onto the arena stage. Ah Qin landed immediately after, stepped forward, and planted a foot on Rao Shaofeng's chest, causing Rao Shaofeng to vomit blood on the spot. Only the fourth-layer Cheng Ziyan remained. He had kept a trick up his sleeve, and seeing Ah Qin and the Street-Scolding Crone advancing together, Cheng Ziyan whipped around abruptly and released a billow of smoke with a loud sputter. Ah Qin covered his nose. The Street-Scolding Crone spat. "Damn it all, a weasel! That kid dumps liquid shit, and you fucking blast foul farts—who the hell could endure this?!" With a kick from each of them, they sent Cheng Ziyan flying off the platform. Wooo-ooo! The whistle shrieked; the arena match was over. The crowd held their noses, completely silent. This fight had been quite a spectacle, though it certainly didn't smell very pleasant. Wu Decheng bellowed in fury, "Ye, you cheated!" Li Banfeng shot back, "How did I cheat?!" "You dare deceive me!" Li Banfeng shouted, "What did I deceive you about? Speak up! Say it out loud!" "I..." How could he say it? Wu Decheng trembled with rage. While his attention was entirely fixed on Li Banfeng, Xiao Genzi brought up his ladle and splashed Wu Decheng right in the face. "Speak up, then!" PS: This ladleful was crucial.