The 23rd year of jiajing (era), Shuntian Prefecture, night.
The rain poured down.
The streets were already empty of pedestrians, with only a few beams of moonlight flickering, casting dim shadows on the ground.
At the entrance of a dark alley, two men lifted their hands and threw a bleeding man next to a pile of debris.
Occasionally, lightning flashed, revealing his dilated pupils and disfigured face.
He had clearly been beaten into this state; his limbs were unnaturally twisted, and his chest no longer rose and fell, indicating he was thoroughly dead.
The two men who threw the man clapped their hands, spat at him, and cursed, “You want to die, but you don’t even check the weather? You made us get soaked for nothing!”
After they finished cursing, one of the younger-looking men was about to walk back directly but was stopped by the older one.
“What do you want!?” he said irritably.
“You’re going back already?” the older one said.
“What else? I’m soaked!” The younger hooligan shook his head.
“Are you stupid! Da De Ge said to throw him far away, and we were lazy and threw him in this broken alley, and now you want to go back so quickly?” The older hooligan frowned and said, “Are you afraid Da De Ge won’t notice our laziness?”
The younger hooligan came to his senses, and thinking of the scene where Da De Ge punched the man repeatedly, breaking his bones and splattering blood and flesh, he couldn't help but shiver.
“What should we do then?”
“What else can we do? Let’s wait a while before leaving.” The older hooligan glanced around, found a corner that offered shelter from the rain and wind, and squatted down.
The younger hooligan cursed a few times, then helplessly covered his head with his outer coat and squatted beside the older hooligan.
In truth, that “Da De Ge” might not have cared much about the corpse; dozens of beggars died in Yanjing City every day, and even if one was left on the street, it wouldn't cause much trouble.
It was just that they really didn’t want to walk far in the rain; in those times, catching a cold could cost you half your life. But they also didn’t dare to disobey Da De Ge, so they could only loiter here for a while before returning, thinking he wouldn’t ask too many questions.
After about ten minutes, the two men stood up, brushed off the rainwater, and prepared to report back.
Just then, a faint sound came from the end of the silent street. In a moment, hoofbeats followed, clearly not from one or two horses, but an entire team.
The younger hooligan hadn't reacted yet, but the older hooligan’s pupils contracted.
It was already past curfew at this hour; if it were one or two horses, it might be a wealthy family disregarding the rules. But an entire team of horses certainly meant “official” figures.
It would be bad if the body were discovered.
In those days, countless people died beneath the surface every day, but they couldn't die in front of important figures.
The older hooligan retreated, threw the body into the pile of debris, and pulled a stack of items over it, ensuring no limbs were exposed.
Only then did he pull the younger hooligan into the alley to take shelter, getting off the main road.
Although the light was dim and it was raining heavily, the probability of passersby noticing them was minimal. But the older hooligan was a veteran of the jianghu who had lived in Yanjing for over a decade and had long understood the principle that caution prevents mistakes.
In front of the corpse in the debris pile, they were the masters. In front of true masters, they were mere insects.
Their survival rule was to be careful not to appear in the eyes of anyone they shouldn't provoke.
Unfortunately, he understood this principle, but the younger hooligan did not.
Most people in this line of work were hot-headed and prone to fighting; only after being cut down a few times did they learn the value of life.
The younger hooligan, seeing his cautious demeanor, was already displeased but dared not speak. He symbolically shook off the older hooligan’s grip on his arm.
A slight pushing sound was heard, and half an arm was exposed.
Inside a sedan chair in the middle of the cavalry, a man who looked to be in his early thirties with a weary face glanced outside and tapped on the sedan chair’s beam.
Instantly, the entire team stopped.
Several young men in black tight-fitting clothes dismounted and approached the sedan chair. The man pointed towards the alley where the two hooligans were hiding, and the men nodded, then turned and walked over with agile steps.
“It’s over.” The older hooligan’s face turned pale as he watched the men approaching them.
Because these men maintained their distance as they walked, subtly forming a formation, they were clearly trained officers or masters. Moreover, their target was clear: they were coming directly for the hiding place of the two hooligans.
Knowing he could no longer hide, the older hooligan no longer hesitated. He stepped out directly into the rain and bowed to the approaching men.
“Officers, we are…”
Bang!
Before he could finish speaking, an elbow strike landed on the back of his head, knocking him directly to the ground.
Immediately, a boot stepped on his back, forcing the air out of his lungs and choking all his unfinished excuses in his mouth.
The older hooligan struggled to open his dazed eyes and heard the younger hooligan’s curse strangled in his throat, then a thud as he was pressed down in front of him.
A young man looked around the alley for a moment, his gaze settling on the pile of debris.
He stepped forward, pulled open the pile of debris, and dragged out the corpse within. He examined it up and down, then placed the corpse on the ground.
Turning, he stepped over the two hooligans pinned to the ground and walked to the carriage window, saying, “Commander, a dead man, beaten to death. These two are Yan Xiaosheng’s men, they have criminal records.”
“Bring them.” The weary-faced man inside the sedan chair replied.
“Yes.”
The young man responded and beckoned back.
Crack! Crack!
With a few crisp sounds, the men pressing down on the two hooligans directly broke their arms. The two hooligans opened their mouths to cry out in pain but were each kicked in the mouth, knocking them unconscious.
The men lifted the unconscious hooligans and followed behind the slowly moving cavalry, leaving the alley.
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A tavern just a few hundred meters from this alley was brightly lit at this time.
Logically, it was already early morning, and the curfew had long been in effect, prohibiting gatherings for entertainment.
But if anyone were to enter at this moment and see the people sitting in this tavern, they would not think that a mere curfew was anything worth mentioning.
Standing at the entrance, with a fierce face, was “Da De,” who had recently made a name for himself in Yanjing City. He was brave and daring, and his martial arts skills were considered impressive.
Looking at the undried bloodstains on the floor inside, it was he who had just beaten a man into a pulp with his bare fists, a person who killed without batting an eye.
Sitting inside were Hu Shuang, the “One-Armed Sword” hall master of the Cao Gang; Gu Jiao, the “Clear Wind Sword” deacon of the Mount Hua Sect; the great bandit Xue Shangshuang; the solitary eccentric Tie Qiuyi, and others, all figures who had made a name for themselves in the jianghu.
And presiding over the main seat in this room was Yan Xiaosheng, the “Iron Palm Maitreya,” who had been the leader of Yanjing’s underworld for over a decade.
Tonight was his fortieth birthday. After a banquet at home, he was entertaining his “unseen” friends here.
The jianghu was not just about fighting and killing; even renowned orthodox sects needed people to eat and horses to be fed. To make a living in Yanjing, people of the jianghu could not bypass him, the leader.
It was just that the renowned orthodox sects valued their reputation and found it inconvenient to be openly involved with him. Wanted criminals like the great bandit Xue Shangshuang and Tie Qiuyi also couldn't openly visit. So, he entertained them here; after all, it was a tavern open for business, and even if officials investigated, they could just bribe them with some silver and claim ignorance of the guests' identities.
At this point, after three rounds of drinks, and aside from a young man who came seeking revenge and caused some trouble, the hosts and guests were all enjoying themselves.
Yan Xiaosheng had a kindly face and a large belly, looking just like a gentle rich old man. At this moment, he smiled and raised his wine cup, about to say a few polite words.
Just then, there was a loud “Bang!”
The large door burst open, and two people were thrown through it, knocking it down. They rolled a few times on the floor and lay in the center of the room.
One of them, covered in blood, struggled to lift his head and looked at the ashen-faced Yan Xiaosheng, saying, “Leader… Leader, it’s the Eagle Claws (underworld slang for officials)...”
Yan Xiaosheng looked closely for a moment, recognizing them as the subordinates who had just gone out to dispose of the body, and his face grew even uglier.
Outside the door, over a dozen men in black tight-fitting clothes rushed in, their steps uniform. In just a few breaths, they blocked the entire doorway. Footsteps also continuously sounded outside the door, clearly indicating that the entire tavern had been surrounded.
Inside the hall, wanted criminals like Xue Shangshuang and Tie Qiuyi, seeing that the newcomers looked like officials, were about to stand up and act.
And the people from the Cao Gang and Mount Hua Sect also stood up, intending to say a few polite words.
Just then, a person slowly walked in from outside the door.
This person looked to be in his early thirties, with a heroic appearance, dressed in a black cloak. He had a powerful build, with ape-like arms and a wasp waist, and could be considered imposing. Unfortunately, he had a weary face and a lazy posture, looking as if he hadn't rested well recently.
As he entered the door, someone behind him closed it and helped him remove his wet cloak.
He casually patted off the rainwater from his body, as if no one else was present, then looked up and swept his gaze across the varied expressions of the people in the tavern. He casually cupped his hands and said, “Gentlemen, please.”
He reached for the waist token hanging at his side, held it up, and drew a listless semicircle in front of him. The people in the room only roughly made out the shape of the waist token before their expressions instantly changed.
Several guests from the Green Forest Road and the underworld began to tremble uncontrollably. A disciple from the Mount Hua Sect opened his mouth to speak but was fiercely glared at by “Clear Wind Sword” Gu Jiao and dared not utter a sound.
“I am Jinyiwei Commander, Li Miao.”
“The Jinyiwei (Imperial Guards) are on official business. Those who do not wish to die may kneel now.”