The firelight made the window paper of the Night River Tea House glow bright.
Xu Wuyou rose, casually brushed the charcoal dust from the hem of his robe, and without leaving behind a single extra word, strode out of the private room with long steps.
Lu Wenzhao had half his body leaning out the window, staring fixedly at the sea of flames. He didn’t even notice when Xu Wuyou left.
……
The great fire burned for an entire night.
Only at dawn, when several muffled thunders rolled across the sky and a torrential rain poured down, was the blaze finally extinguished.
Morning, at the Tongji Canal Guild’s North Warehouse.
Fine threads of rain fell in sheets, striking the charred beams with faint, hissing crackles, stirring up gray-white steam.
The air was heavy with the acrid stench of burnt flesh mixed with the odor of carbonized wood.
A thick layer of black ash floated on the puddles, sticky and slimy underfoot.
Xu Wuyou, dressed in dark close-fitting attire, stepped into the ruins, treading through the muddy ashes with large strides.
Outside the perimeter stood dozens of members of the Tongji Canal Guild.
Ahead, several dozen canal guild members were already poised for action. As the Water Transport Hall’s men approached, a sharp clatter of blades being drawn rang out—more than a dozen gleaming steel knives formed a barrier before the charred ground, blocking the path.
The leading dock foreman held his knife horizontally before his chest and bellowed, “This is canal guild territory! Outsiders, stop where you are!”
Pang Yu’s eyes turned cold. Half of his Wild Goose Feud blade slid from its sheath with a scraping sound.
Seeing this, the guild members instinctively shuffled half a step back. After all, their opponent was the son of an earl.
If a fight actually broke out, cutting down a single noble could result in the exile of an entire family.
Everyone’s nerves were taut, convinced that the earl’s eldest son would surely use his authority to force his way through.
One step beyond the boundary, and the canal guild’s pent-up fury would have a legitimate outlet.
But unexpectedly, Xu Wuyou stopped.
He raised his hand and pressed the half-drawn blade firmly back into its sheath.
“What’s the rush?” Xu Wuyou flicked some soot from his sleeve, his tone flat. “Since the guild brothers say this is restricted ground, then we must follow the rules.”
He stood with his hands behind his back, facing the line of drawn knives. The tips of his shoes were barely half an inch from the scorched earth, yet he stood as steady as a mountain, refusing to take another step forward.
This unexpected halt left the guild members, who had been ready to strike, exchanging bewildered glances, unsure how to react.
From behind the dense crowd, a green oil-paper umbrella slowly unfurled, and Lu Wenzhao stepped out through the muddy water.
The edge of the umbrella lifted slightly, revealing his faintly astonished face.
The sharp words he had prepared to accuse Xu Wuyou of “bullying others with power and disregarding waterway rules” were all stuck in his throat, halted by this pause.
“Hall Master Xu’s restraint truly surprises me,” Lu Wenzhao said, regaining his composure, his voice cutting through the rain. “This is an internal guild affair. The man who died inside was Lei Bao, the adopted son of Guild Leader Lei Zhen and the manager of the North Warehouse.”
Lu Wenzhao’s fingers tightened around the umbrella handle. “Guild Leader Lei is devastated by the loss of his son. If the Water Transport Hall interferes, it would violate the waterway rules.”
“Please, Hall Master Xu, take your men and turn back.”
Xu Wuyou stood outside the defensive line, his tone carrying a hint of mockery.
“Master Lu jokes. My Water Transport Hall oversees the capital’s waterway dispatch and investigates ship schedules and military grain accounts. How could I be considered an outsider?”
“Still, I won’t meddle in Guild Leader Lei’s family matters. I won’t enter these grounds.”
Xu Wuyou didn’t bother to look again at Lu Wenzhao’s shifting, unreadable face. He turned and coldly spat a single word:
“Withdraw.”
Pang Yu sheathed his blade. Before leaving, he shot a fierce glare at the opposing dock foreman, then retreated decisively.
In the curtain of rain, only Lu Wenzhao remained, holding his green oil-paper umbrella, staring at Xu Wuyou’s retreating back. His eyes were dark, nearly dripping with resentment.
……
The southern waterway of Tongjin Lock.
The rain was heavy and the fog thick—nothing but a white blur beyond ten paces.
Rapids churned with whirlpools, rushing straight downstream.
Xu Wuyou stood at the bow of the boat, rain streaming down from his bamboo hat.
This three-masted fast boat was heading upstream, racing back to the Water Transport Hall.
Just then, two unmarked fast boats burst out of the right-side reed marsh.
Their prows were wrapped in raw iron, and using the current, they rammed headlong into Xu Wuyou’s vessel.
Bang!
The boats collided. The deck tilted violently, the sound of splintering wood cutting through the rain.
Several figures in black leaped over from the opposing boat, drawing short blades mid-air.
The knife edges caught the gray-white sky.
On every man’s chest was embroidered a pair of crossed, blood-stained wooden oars—the trademark insignia of the Tongji Canal Guild’s Martial Oar Faction.
“Assassins!”
Pang Yu roared, drawing his blade as he charged forward.
The first black-clad man had barely set foot on the deck when Xu Wuyou was already upon him.
He dodged the blade with a tilt of his head, then drove a kick straight into the man’s chest.
The crack of breaking ribs rang out. The man flew back like a stringless kite, smashed through the railing, and flipped into the river without even raising a splash.
Blades clashed through the rain.
One assassin rolled on the ground, his knife lashing out like a viper toward Xu Wuyou’s ankle.
Pang Yu stepped forward, swung his Wild Goose Feud blade with both hands in a full arc, and brought it down directly onto the opponent.
The assassin raised his blade to block.
Clang! Sparks flew.
Another assassin spotted an opening and drove his knife straight at Pang Yu’s ribs.
Pang Yu twisted his body with effort, but the blade sliced open the flesh of his left arm. Blood mixed with rainwater, staining half his sleeve red.
Gritting his teeth, Pang Yu swung his blade backhanded, nearly severing the man’s shoulder.
Blood sprayed onto the deck, then was washed away by the heavy rain.
At the stern, the veteran helmsman clung to the rudder, his feet nailed to the deck as he barely managed to steady the ship.
The old helmsman caught a glimpse of the rowers on the enemy boat and shouted, “Hall Master! Something’s wrong!”
He wiped the rain from his face.
“These men don’t row like old boatmen!”
“Their oar blades cut deep into the water, and they lift silently—this is the ‘Snake-Oar Stroke’ of the Night Seafaring Faction, used by salt smugglers!”
At these words, Xu Wuyou’s blade technique shifted.
The Night Seafaring Faction.
Wearing the skin of the Martial Oar Faction, fighting with the tactics of the Night Seafaring Faction. A fine play of killing with a borrowed knife.
Lu Wenzhao thought that by burning down the North Warehouse he could sever the trail, but Xu Wuyou had never cared about those account books.
What Xu Wuyou had his eye on was the crack in the canal guild’s internal rivalry, torn open by Lei Zhen’s adopted son’s death.
The ghosts underwater were all surfacing now.
If Xu Wuyou died in the river today, the blame could be welded firmly onto the back of Chief Guild Leader Lei Zhen.
Xu Wuyou advanced swiftly with his blade.
He kicked aside a knife thrust coming at him from the side, then threw his whole body into a collision with the last black-clad assassin.
The back of his knife swung downward, smashing hard into the man’s knee.
Crack! The leg bone snapped.
Taking advantage, Xu Wuyou planted his foot on the assassin’s neck, pinning him to the wet, slippery deck.
……
Night fell. Behind the Water Transport Hall’s compound.
The rain had stopped. A chill wind blew.
The courtyard was pitch black.
Pang Yu’s left arm was wrapped in white cloth, blood still seeping through as red stains.
He cursed loudly: “That old bastard Lei Zhen playing dirty tricks! Giving us clear passage in public while stabbing us in the back!”
Xu Wuyou leaned against a stone table, tossing his bloodstained blade onto the table.
“Save your strength. The man is, after all, the guild leader.”
“As for tonight’s affair—if a single word of it leaks out, the guild’s punishments will be enforced.”
