Sheng Ye Square, inside a large mansion.
Bailang Gang leader Zhang Ye had just paid one month's rent.
He didn't pay more, uncertain if he might have to move next month.
The main hall of the inner courtyard.
Zhang Ye sat at the head seat.
A dark-faced burly man sat on his lower left.
Behind him stood two similarly broad-shouldered and stout men.
Their temperament and demeanor were quite fierce.
"Leader Zhang, let's stick to the old rules. The grain and goods will leave the city tomorrow morning. My people will take over at the South Gate, here is the deposit." The dark-faced burly man pulled out a grey cloth money bag and handed it to Zhang Ye.
You could see hesitation in Zhang Ye's bearded face as he looked at it without taking it.
"What? Leader Zhang wouldn't be thinking of raising the price again, would you?!" The color on the burly man's face darkened instantly.
Their purchase price for grain was already thirty percent higher than the market rate.
Over the past few months, prices had gone up twice in succession.
This Zhang Ye still wanted to increase the price, insatiable!
Zhang Ye was hesitant in his heart, not knowing whether to speak up or not.
Seeing Zhang Ye hemming and hawing, the dark-faced man immediately became furious.
The crooks from Ai Mountain were just a band of desperados.
Being continuously manipulated and forced, a sense of murderous intent was stirring in their hearts.
After all, it was merely a gang of local rogues within the city.
Sneaky schemes they could handle, but in a real fight, they could be wiped out with the flip of a hand!
"No price hike," Zhang Ye spoke up to quell the other's anger, "it's just a change in the payment method."
The dark-faced man frowned, "Money upfront, goods exchanged, that was the deal we had. It's not possible to pay for the goods first."
"No need to pay first. Just deposit the deposit and payment for the goods in the Datong Money House," said Zhang Ye.
"Doing business on Bailang Gang's territory, we don't accept cash," Zhang Ye said in a low voice.
The dark-faced man looked at Zhang Ye with puzzlement.
Some strange new rule.
Suddenly, he thought of a piece of information forwarded by an undercover element in the city.
His face immediately took on a mocking tone, "I heard that the Bailang Gang got played and suffered heavy losses. It can't be true, can it?"
Zhang Ye's complexion darkened, and he said nothing.
"Heh..." The dark-faced burly man immediately sneered with disdain.
To think they were called the top gang in the city.
Nothing but a mob!
Zhang Ye's face looked unpleasant, but he didn't retort.
"Would you like for me to leave some brothers to lend you a hand?" the dark-faced burly man snickered suggestively, pretending to be helpful.
Zhang Ye's face flushed with anger as he reached for the Ghost Head Greatknife.
Touching the blade, which he had recovered from the Ghost Market, the fury in Zhang Ye's heart gradually subsided.
If one's own skills were not as good, they couldn't blame others for their mockery.
In the past few months, this kind of teasing and ridicule wasn't the first he'd heard.
"We don't accept cash silver," Zhang Ye repeated in a muffled voice.
The dark-faced man chuckled derisively and tucked the money bag back into his chest.
Indeed, the man was spineless. He didn't even dare to resist.
The hand Zhang Ye had on the knife unconsciously tightened.
But instead of feeling the cold, hard sensation of the knife's handle, his palm felt swollen, akin to the swelling due to increased blood flow when one is drunk.
This familiar sensation, it's happening again?! And for some reason, he felt a sense of kinship with it.
Struggling against drowsiness, Zhang Ye smiled meaningfully at the dark-faced man, "Third Head, you didn't bring any valuables with you, did you?"
The dark-faced man frowned at Zhang Ye, instinctively touching his chest where this purchase's money was stowed.
Zhang Ye smiled at that moment, a smile that reveled in others' misfortune.
As evening approached.
The gang members of the Bailang Gang's secret base gradually awoke.
Zhang Ye glanced at the table beside him, and as expected, the Ghost Head Greatknife was gone again.
"Looks like I need to make another trip to the Ghost Market."
The dark-faced man glared at Zhang Ye with an ugly expression on his face.
Zhang Ye suppressed his smile, stood up, stretched lazily, and said indifferently, "We don't accept cash silver. Don't forget to deposit that advance payment into the Datong Money House later."
The dark-faced man reached into his chest and his face darkened even more.
...
On the side of the Zuo Family's large mansion.
In a bedroom leaning against the wall of the Zuo Family's courtyard.
Seven or eight grey cloth money bags were placed on the table.
Those disciples who had dared to defy him had all disappeared, alive without a trace, dead without a body.
Biting his teeth, the white-faced youth pulled out a dagger, unwound the white cloth from his right hand, and savagely slashed across the still-healing wound.
Thick blood slowly oozed out.
The paper effigy floating in mid-air seemed like a cat smelling blood.
It leisurely drifted towards the palm of the white-faced youth.
A gulping sound like drinking water could be heard.
The white-faced youth grew even paler.
After a while, the paper effigy rose from his palm, its pale body now a vivid red.
The Thousand Mountains Daoist took out a black elixir pill with a spicy scent from his chest.
"You've done well, eat it," he said.
"Thank you, Master, thank you!" the white-faced youth swallowed the elixir pill in one gulp.
His complexion immediately reddened at a speed visible to the naked eye.
His eyes shone with renewed energy, and his whole being seemed invigorated.
"Master's Ascension Pill is becoming more and more profound!" the white-faced youth said with a look of enjoyment and flattery.
The Thousand Mountains Daoist watched his apprentice with a satisfied smile on his face, but his eyes were coldly devoid of any real emotion.
At that moment, the paper figure that had absorbed the blood seemed to come to life, becoming animated.
"Gugu gugu..."
The little figure floated in mid-air, its small hand pointing behind the two men, making a series of frenzied, clawing noises.
The master and apprentice turned around abruptly.
Under the dark night, they saw a figure half-crouching, tiptoeing along the wall, moving toward the corner under the eaves.
"Who's there!" the pale-faced young man shouted.
Chen Mu's body stiffened, and with an awkward turn, he looked at the two men: "I was just going to the toilet, continue your business, carry on."
"Didn't you say this is a deserted house? How can there be someone here!" Thousand Mountains Daoist glared fiercely at his disciple.
In a panic, the pale-faced young man pressed Chen Mu for answers: "Who are you?!"
"Forget it," Thousand Mountains Daoist retracted his anger and indifferently gave Chen Mu a glance: "Go take care of him; don't delay the important matter."
"Yes!" the pale-faced young man sneered, looking towards Chen Mu.
"I just happened to come across this, let's part ways here, each to his own, how about that?" Chen Mu quickly regained his composure.
The temperament of the two men was cold and sinister, not seeming like good people.
Chen Mu didn't want to tangle with them any further.
"It's just your bad luck," the pale-faced young man turned a deaf ear, staring coldly at Chen Mu.
His right hand swept past his waist, and suddenly he held a soft, fine sword in his hand.
As Chen Mu's mind raced, he tried to reason logically: "It's quiet at night, and the slightest noise can carry far."
"True action might ruin everyone's plans."
"As if you could!" sneered the pale-faced young man, approaching Chen Mu with disdain.
He had traveled far and wide with Thousand Mountains Daoist.
His mastery of the Mysterious Female Sword Technique was as soft as water and as rigid as a whip; countless so-called heroes had died by his sword.
If it weren't for their secretive ways, they would have already made a great name for themselves.
Chen Mu's heart tightened.
Strictly speaking, this was only the second time he had faced someone skilled in martial arts.
There was no sensation in teaching the hoodlums a lesson before.
When he killed Sheng Hong, there hadn't been any preparation either; it was all just throwing stones in confusion.
Now, as he watched the pale-faced young man with a grim expression approaching, Chen Mu felt apprehensive: "There are two of them, a bit too many."
He sneaked a glance at Thousand Mountains Daoist who wasn't even considering him a threat. Chen Mu felt a bit relieved.
As long as he wasn't being watched.
He glanced at the blood-red little figure floating in mid-air, and Chen Mu felt his scalp tingle.
Watching the pale-faced young man draw nearer, he clenched his teeth and thought: "Throw a dart at him; if it doesn't work, retreat!"
His right hand reached into his sleeve, and an Iron Lotus Seed was clutched in his palm.
"Come on," the pale-faced young man beckoned with his sword in his right hand, spreading his arms in front of his chest in a welcoming gesture.
"Aren't we going to fight."
"Come at me..."
Whoosh!
In an instant, a dark shadow flashed by at lightning speed.
The Iron Lotus Seed from Chen Mu's hand shot out like a bullet, instantly piercing through the air between them and passing through the pale-faced young man's left chest.
Thump!
A burst of blood exploded from behind the pale-faced young man: "You... you!"
Thump thump!
Before he could finish his sentence, two more holes appeared in the pale-faced young man's forehead and mouth corner.
Blood dripped down from his chin.
Suddenly, the entire courtyard fell silent.