Chapter 157: Chai Clan Members

Chapter 157: Chai Clan Members

Hong Bozhi was a pugilist, known as the “Star-Snatching Rat.” He was small and skinny, somewhat resembling a rat. But he couldn’t actually snatch stars, and few paid attention to his grandiose nickname. Most people just called him “Old Bo.”

Old Bo disliked being a soldier; too many rules, too much hardship, it was more boring than prison. He especially disliked Shattered Iron City, which was nearly all military camps, with a few civilian houses occupied by soldiers’ or prisoners’ families. Even losing a bowl could cause an uproar.

Old Bo was a thief though he preferred to be called a chivalrous thief. But few people called him that.

He had long wanted to desert. When he heard that Wang Lingshang, Gu Juren, and Song Shaokun had failed to assassinate the Northern Protection General and had died in the wilderness, he knew he couldn’t wait any longer.

Shattered Iron City was under lockdown, making escape difficult. Old Bo secretly gathered some water and food, planning to sneak out after dark. If he could take a horse, all the better; if not, he planned to walk. In about ten days, he could reach Divine Hero Pass.

Once inside the pass, Old Bo would be in his element, always able to find fellow pugilists to take him in.

Everything went smoothly. The Northern Protection General, still in shock, spent the whole day resting in the general’s residence, issuing no orders other than to strengthen the guard. By the second watch of the night, while other soldiers were asleep, Old Bo quietly left the barracks with a bundle on his back and a rope around his waist, heading to the southeast corner of Shattered Iron City.

There was a large mound of earth and stones by the wall in this corner. With some agility, one could climb onto the city wall, which was no problem for Old Bo.

On his way, he deliberately detoured to the general’s residence, harboring the hope that if he could take the General’s head, the trip wouldn’t be in vain.

The residence was quiet. After watching for a while, Old Bo abandoned this overly bold plan. If the head was an artifact stashed in some secret room, he had an eighty percent chance of stealing it. But as for drawing a knife to kill, his skills were inferior to some ordinary soldiers.

Old Bo climbed the mound, clung to the wall, and quietly observed. The guards had increased significantly, patrolling back and forth in squads. He had only a brief moment to climb over the wall.

Old Bo took out a specially made three-fingered iron claw from his bundle, securely tied the rope to it, and, while the patrolling soldiers turned a corner, he quickly crawled to the other side, hooked the claw onto the wall, and climbed over, and slowly lowered himself with the rope. He had timed it perfectly.

His feet touched solid ground, the first step in his escape.

Old Bo gently shook the rope, a skill that allowed the claw to be shaken free—a feat many skilled pugilists couldn’t accomplish. Old Bo was quite proud of this ability.

The rope loosened, and the claw fell from the high wall. Old Bo looked up, quickly gathering the rope, and in the dark, he caught the claw, needing to dodge at the last moment to let the claw fall freely while tightly holding the rope to minimize noise.

Since his debut, he had never failed.

“Hey!”

A sudden call nearby startled Old Bo. He turned sharply to see over ten people aiming bows and arrows at him. He had been so focused on avoiding the patrols on the wall that he hadn’t expected an ambush outside.

Countless thoughts flashed through Old Bo’s mind, but he forgot one thing.

“Ah!” Old Bo screamed and fell to the ground, struck by his own iron claw. When brought to the general’s residence, he was still unconscious.

To settle the score with the Chai clan, there had to be evidence. Han Ruzi bypassed his own soldiers, as the fishermen were loyal but had bonded with the pugilists over the months. He didn’t use the regular soldiers sent by Grand General Han Xing, who were unfamiliar with the pugilists but might be bribed by the Chai clan. Instead, he sent the original Shattered Iron City soldiers out on patrol, with one task: capture anyone trying to sneak out of the city.

Han Ruzi was taking a chance, guessing that Wang Lingshang and his associates might have accomplices in the city, who would either continue to target him or try to escape. If no one was caught tonight, he would have to imprison and interrogate the dozen pugilists in the barracks, which was the worst option and might wrongfully accuse loyal soldiers.

Han Ruzi had slept briefly during the day. Though still tired, he was alert, watching the doctor treat Hong Bozhi’s wounds.

He remembered this small pugilist, even recalling his nickname.

Han Ruzi took out a few sheets of paper listing the names of a dozen pugilists and eleven noble members of the Chai clan.

Though called Chai clan nobles, most didn’t bear the surname Chai. They were tied to the Cui clan through marriage and regarded as “Chai clan members.” Many other nobles had close or distant relations with the Chai clan. Even Han Ruzi himself, because of the old Princess, was considered a relative of the Chai clan.

Cai Xinghai said a noble life was worth hundreds or thousands of common soldiers. In terms of influence, this was somewhat true.

Han Ruzi was about to rest when Zhang Youcai burst in. “Master, that man has woken up.”

Han Ruzi folded the papers and put them in his robe, stepping out to personally interrogate Hong Bozhi. He wouldn’t show mercy to those who bribed assassins.

It was still dark outside. Han Ruzi and Zhang Youcai encountered Prince Donghai and Cui Teng.

“Good thing you’re awake. I need to talk to you,” Prince Donghai said. He also lived in the general’s residence, unlike Cui Teng, who had come to see him in the evening and hadn’t left.

“I have urgent business. We can talk later,” Han Ruzi said, eager to interrogate the prisoner.

Prince Donghai, however, refused to move. “My matter is more important. Let’s talk inside.”

Prince Donghai’s temper had subdued in Shattered Iron City, but this was the first time he insisted on his way.

Han Ruzi glanced at Cui Teng. The second son of the Cui family, who had just made a great contribution by rescuing the Northern Protection General, looked pale and anxious, as if he had committed a grave mistake.

“Alright.” Han Ruzi signaled Zhang Youcai to notify Cai Xinghai to guard Hong Bozhi.

Han Ruzi’s room was simple. After moving into the general’s residence, he hadn’t added any decorations. The walls were bare, and the furniture old.

Han Ruzi and Prince Donghai sat down. Normally, Cui Teng would consider himself “family,” but now he stood with hands at his sides, not daring to sit.

“Tell him, Cui Teng,” Prince Donghai said angrily.

“Everything?” Cui Teng hesitated.

“No secrets now. Must the Weary Marquis uncover the truth himself?”

Cui Teng frowned, then suddenly knelt, crying to Han Ruzi, “Brother-in-law, I didn’t mean it. I didn’t know they would really act. I told them to wait for my orders, but...”

“So, you were the one who hired the assassins,” Han Ruzi’s anger flared. He wanted to draw his knife and strike.

“No money was exchanged. Someone introduced them. Brother-in-law, I once wanted to avenge Chai Yun, but I swear I didn’t want to kill you. For my sister’s sake, I wouldn’t...”

Cui Teng kept defending himself. Han Ruzi waved his hand to interrupt. “Who introduced the assassins to you?”

Cui Teng glanced at Prince Donghai and said dejectedly, “Hua Huwang.”

Han Ruzi was stunned. Since the failed coup, the Hua family had either been imprisoned or gone into hiding. He didn’t expect them to be involved again in Shattered Iron City.

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