Quickly conquer the martial arts world, and let your fists dominate the heavens!

"Newspapers for sale! Newspapers for sale!"

The crisp shouts hit the blue brick walls of the old city, bounced back, and drifted far away on the wind.

A boy of about ten years old carried half a bundle of newspapers on his back. His bangs were stuck to his forehead with sweat, and his thick braid at the back of his head swished loudly. The front half of his head was shaved shiny and gleamed in the sun.

"Breaking news! The Beiyang Fleet suffered a major defeat, and the Qing government signed the Treaty of Shimonoseki, paying 2 million taels of silver in reparations and ceding the Liaodong Peninsula, the entire island of Taiwan and all its affiliated islands, and the Penghu Islands to Japan!"

The shouts were tinged with sobs, yet they had no choice but to yell at the top of their lungs.

The streets were sparsely populated, and most people were hurrying along, unwilling to stop and listen to this distressing news.

A hand gently gripped the boy's arm, the pressure was light, and the boy struggled but couldn't break free.

The boy looked up and met a pair of calm eyes. Standing in front of him was a young man dressed in a moon-white robe with a coarse cloth belt around his waist. It was not luxurious, but it was very simple and unpretentious.

What's most striking is that the young man had disheveled hair, wasn't even wearing a hat, and his long, black hair was casually draped over his shoulders, showing no sign of having shaved his head or grown braids.

"I want one."

The young man's voice was not loud, but every word was clear, carrying a weight that seemed out of place in this era.

"Two copper coins."

The boy composed himself, subconsciously quoted a price, his gaze still fixed on the young man's hair, his eyes filled with fear.

The young man nodded, reached into his pocket, and pulled out two copper coins, handing them over.

The copper coin felt warm and smooth to the touch. The boy looked down and said, "Brother, isn't this a Guangxu Tongbao square-holed coin? I don't collect ancient coins, and this thing is useless."

The young man smiled slightly and took back the two Song Dynasty copper coins.

He reached out again, picked off a small piece of silver with his fingertip, weighing about a qian (a unit of weight), and handed it to the boy: "Will this be alright?"

The gleaming silver caught the boy's eye, and he immediately beamed with joy, nodding hurriedly, "This is good! This is good! This is too much!"

"The rest is for you."

"Hey! Thank you for the reward, sir! Thank you for the reward, sir!" The boy quickly bowed, swinging his braid even more enthusiastically.

He stole another glance at the young man's hair, and a chill ran down his spine. 'Keep your hair, lose your head; keep your head, lose your hair.'

If caught by the officials, it would be a capital offense, punishable by beheading.

Although the Qing government's control has weakened, no one dares to gamble with the rule of execution.

The boy dared not linger. He hurriedly pulled a newspaper from his back, handed it to the young man with both hands, and turned to run away.

Chen Zhan didn't pay attention to the boy's panic. He took the newspaper and his eyes first fell on the upper right corner.

May of the 21st year of the Guangxu Emperor's reign.

Converted to the year he remembered, it was 1895.

The newspaper's masthead read "Direct Report," the ink of which was slightly faded but still clearly visible.

This is the most important local Chinese newspaper in Tianjin, published daily, and every word is interpreted from the perspective of the Qing Dynasty.

He lowered his eyes and read carefully; the entire page was about the defeat of the Beiyang Fleet and the Treaty of Shimonoseki.

"Last year, when the Middle East was in conflict, our Beiyang Fleet fought a fierce battle in the Yellow Sea. The Zhiyuan and Jingyuan ships were sunk, and the soldiers died a great loss of life."

"In the first month of this year, the Japanese army launched a combined land and sea attack on Weihaiwei. Our army was trapped on Liugong Island, cut off from external support, and lost all the forts. Naval Admiral Ding Ruchang vowed not to surrender and committed suicide by taking poison. His generals either died or scattered."

"On February 17, Japanese warships entered the port, the dragon flag fell and the sun rose. The Beiyang Fleet was completely annihilated, the coastal defenses were destroyed, and the capital was shaken."

Scrolling down reveals the detailed contents of the Treaty of Shimonoseki, every word of which is a humiliating defeat that ceded national sovereignty.

"The peace talks began in Shimonoseki, where plenipotentiary minister Li Hongzhang met with Japanese ministers Ito Hirobumi and Mutsu Munemitsu at the Shunpanro Pavilion."

"The Japanese made numerous demands and imposed harsh terms, forcing us to sign the Treaty of Shimonoseki on April 17."

The essential point:
1. The entire island of Taiwan and all its affiliated islands, the Penghu Islands, and the Liaodong Peninsula in the southern part of Fengtian are ceded.
Second, the war compensation fee is 200 million taels of silver, to be paid in installments over eight years;
Third, Shashi, Chongqing, Suzhou and Hangzhou will be opened as treaty ports, and Japanese people will be allowed to set up factories in the ports to manufacture and sell goods;

IV. Japanese warships will be temporarily stationed in Weihaiwei to oversee the payment of reparations.

The concluding commentary reads: "Since the beginning of trade, there has never been such a humiliating treaty that has ceded our sovereignty. The navy is reduced to ashes, our territory is divided, enormous taxes are levied on the people, our national strength is declining, and the whole country is weeping. Alas! This is truly a great upheaval unprecedented in three thousand years, and every person with blood in their veins cannot help but lament."

As Chen Zhan walked and looked around, his feet treading on the uneven cobblestones of the old town, his shoes making a soft sound as they rolled over the pebbles.

The air was filled with the pungent smell of coal smoke and a faint, fishy odor of opium, which wafted into the nostrils and was extremely unpleasant.

This newspaper is no longer new.

Nearly a month after the signing of the Treaty of Shimonoseki, the news had already spread throughout the country. Whether it was the princes and nobles in the capital or the common people in Tianjin, no one was unaware of this distressing matter.

As you approach the city gate, the scene becomes even more desolate.

Several refugees huddled against the wall, their clothes tattered and riddled with holes.

His bony frame was barely concealed, his withered hands stretched out long, and hoarse cries emanated from his throat, pleading with passersby for a bite to eat, even if it was just half a moldy cornbread.

In front of the secondhand clothing stall next door, there were a few patched-up old clothes. The vendor leaned against the wall, listlessly hanging his head, and didn't have a single customer for a long time.

The teahouse not far away was bustling with activity.

Chen Zhan paused for a moment and could hear angry curses and sobs coming from inside.

A man in a silk mandarin jacket slammed his hand on the octagonal table, causing the teacups to bounce and spill tea all over the table, but he seemed oblivious, his face flushed red and his voice hoarse.
"That old bastard Li Hongzhang! He took the imperial salary and enjoyed a lifetime of wealth and honor, but in the end, he used the territory of his ancestors to beg for peace! How could he face the naval soldiers who died in battle? How could he face the people of the world?"

On the streets and alleys, rickshaw pullers in short jackets shuttle back and forth, their steps hurried, their foreheads covered in sweat, pulling their rickshaws with all their might, just to earn a living.

Chen Zhan glanced at it and understood.

Compared to Tianjin a century later, this place today exudes a sense of decay, like an old tree about to wither and collapse in the wind and rain.

This was not the first time the Qing government had suffered a defeat, nor was it the first time it had signed an unequal treaty.

From the Opium War to the disastrous defeat in the First Sino-Japanese War, repeated concessions and territorial concessions have long since exhausted the hope in the hearts of the people.

If this continued, the Qing government's defeat and demise were already inevitable; no one could reverse it or stop it.

Chen Zhan strolled around the streets for about half an hour, attracting the attention of many people along the way. Their gazes held curiosity, fear, and even some schadenfreude.

The reason was simple: he dressed strangely and hadn't shaved his head or grown a braid.

He looked up and saw people walking on the street, regardless of age or wealth.

They all had their front half of their heads shaved clean, while the back half had long hair braided into a thick braid that hung down their backs, resembling a "yin-yang head".

The area where hair is left is mostly only the size of a palm at the back of the head.

The braid is so thick that it resembles a cow's tail, hence it is also called a "cow's tail braid".

Compared to these people, Chen Zhan, with his disheveled hair and wearing a straight robe, was simply an anomaly.

Someone secretly pointed at him and whispered, their tone full of apprehension: "Why doesn't that man shave his head and grow a queue?"

“The government’s control is weaker now, but to be so blatant is courting death.” Along the way, he listened and observed, combining historical data to get a general understanding of the distribution of various factions in Tianjin.

Although the officials at the city gate were lazy, they still guarded the gate and checked the passersby.

The Qing government outwardly controlled the old city and its surrounding administrative and military core area.
The British, French, and American concessions had long been established in the Zizhulin area on the west bank of the Haihe River. The concessions housed foreign soldiers, foreign shops, and foreign missionaries.

That place was beyond the reach of the Qing government; it was another world entirely.

The American concession was practically defunct.

Americans had little interest in this concession to begin with, and now most of the area is vacant, with only a few scattered foreigners living there, making it quiet and deserted most of the time.

The German concession had only been established recently and was not yet fully developed; everywhere was marked by construction and looked chaotic.

He was currently in the old city of Tianjin.

The old city area, encompassing the area within the four gates and centered around the Drum Tower, includes the area outside the North Gate, Beidaguan, Guyi Street, and the Sanchahekou area, which is considered the prime location of Tianjin.

With its thriving canal transport and numerous shops, it was also the most bustling and chaotic place.

Chen Zhan walked along Guyi Street for a while and saw that at the confluence of the three rivers, the canal boats were moored on the shore, and the boatmen were carrying goods and shuttling back and forth, all of them sweating profusely.

Not far away, several men dressed in short jackets with short knives at their waists leaned against the pillars of the dock, exuding a fierce aura.

The canal gangs controlled the entire canal transport system.

On land, porters shuttled back and forth, carrying heavy goods through the streets and alleys. The foreman of the porter stood at a street corner, holding a pipe in his hand, occasionally shouting a few words of reprimand.

In addition, there are many thugs on the street, in groups of three or five, loitering in front of shops, extorting money from vendors from time to time, leaving the vendors angry but unable to speak out.

The Qing government overtly controlled the area, while local gangs secretly managed it. The Grand Canal operated by waterways, porters by land, and thugs by ground-based operations.

Add to that the foreign powers in the concessions, and the various forces infiltrated and restrained each other, while also being hostile and irreconcilable.

Here, there are no absolutely good people, nor are there absolutely bad people.

It's hard to distinguish between black and white, good and bad are mixed.

Especially after the defeat in the First Sino-Japanese War, the Qing government's prestige plummeted, and its control over the entire Tianjin area dropped to its lowest point.

Sometimes, a foreign missionary's words carried more weight than those of Qing government officials.

No wonder that someone like him, who doesn't wear a braid and is dressed in strange clothes, could walk around the streets for half a day without anyone coming up to ask him a question, let alone daring to arrest him.

After taking a stroll around, Chen Zhan had already made up his mind.

He raised his hand and gently called out to a rickshaw not far away.

The rickshaw driver, who was resting against the wall, immediately pulled up his rickshaw and ran over when he heard the call.

The driver was a young and strong man, about twenty years old, wearing a faded undershirt, with a towel draped over his shoulders, and a long braid tied tightly at the back of his head, hanging down his back.

"Sir, where are you going?"

The driver stopped the carriage, bowed slightly, and his gaze inadvertently swept over Chen Zhan's hair, a hint of fear flashing in his eyes.

Chen Zhan bent down, sat on the rickshaw, leaned back slightly, and said, "Find a lively inn, the more people the better, the more chaotic the better."

The driver's eyes lit up, and he gripped the handlebars tightly, laughing, "Lively? Hey, that's easy! Hold on tight, sir, I'll take you to the Four Gates Inn. In that area, if it's second to none, nobody dares to claim to be first!"

With a slump in the handlebars, the driver took a step forward, his steps steady and powerful, and the rickshaw moved briskly along the stone-paved road.

"I just came from out of town. How lively is this Simen Inn?" Chen Zhan asked.

The driver chuckled, keeping his feet moving, and said as he pulled the cart, "Sir, you're from out of town, you don't know how deep the waters are in Tianjin. Various forces are deeply intertwined, but if you're talking about the most well-informed and diverse group, it has to be our 'Four Gates Cart Gang'."

“Our caravan has a vast territory. The four gates of the old city, the old Longtou Railway Station, and the only road leading to the concession are all our territory.”

“All the rickshaw drivers and vehicle depots in the old city are under our control. There are more than 700 brothers on the register. They go everywhere and are the first to know if there is any movement in any corner of the city.”

"The Four Gates Inn is run by our boss, Old Zhang. How could it not be lively? Our boss's nickname is 'Iron Kick,' he could kick a strong animal to death with one kick. In the old city, everyone gives him some respect."

Chen Zhan nodded slightly. "Besides the Four Gates Car Gang, are there any other gangs?"

"There are many!"

The coachman raised his voice a few decibels, then quickly lowered it again, "The most powerful are the Weibei Canal Gang, who control the grain, salt, and goods transported from the south to the north on Tianjin's inland waterways. They have over three hundred boatmen, trackers, and armed guards. I've heard they also have quite a few firearms, even more powerful than the government's muskets..."

At this point, the driver abruptly stopped talking, his face showing panic. He waved his hands repeatedly, saying, "Hey, look at my mouth, I was just talking nonsense. Don't take it to heart, it's all nonsense!"

Firearms were strictly controlled in those days. If the authorities heard that a gang possessed firearms, the punishment would range from caning to beheading.

Chen Zhan raised his eyes slightly and said calmly, "Don't worry, I'm not a government official. We're just having a casual chat."

The driver breathed a sigh of relief, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and continued, "There's also the Qingyi Hall, second only to the Weibei Canal Gang. Canal transport is lucrative and very profitable, but there are also many things to do on the ground. The Qingyi Hall is the number one gang in the old city, the oldest and most established gang of thugs."

"They control all the protection money, markets, temple fairs, and the power to decide on weddings and funerals in the old town."

"Master Ma is the gang leader, nicknamed 'Iron-Tongued Ma Liu.' He's ruthless and his word is law. He also employs a group of daredevil thugs. Anyone who dares to stand in their way is sure to suffer the consequences."

This time, without Chen Zhan pressing him for answers, the driver continued on his own, clearly having started talking, and perhaps fearing Chen Zhan might find it annoying, his tone carried a hint of ingratiation:

"Next up is our Four Doors Gang. As I just told you, the brothers here are all brothers who have risked their lives for each other, and they are not easy to bully on the road."

"Then there was the Beidaguan porter gang, all of them were hard laborers who specialized in carrying bags, unloading goods, and moving things. They were all incredibly strong and ruthless."

"There's also Yuchangzhan, which is ostensibly a pawnshop and grain store, seemingly law-abiding, but secretly it runs a gambling den, lends money at exorbitant interest rates, and engages in clandestine gambling operations. I've heard that it has powerful figures backing it up, but we lowly folks don't know exactly what kind of power they are. We just know that we can't afford to offend them."

"Finally, there's the Yihe Incense Society, which is mostly made up of poor people, unemployed porters, and vagrants. They don't have any proper weapons, just broadswords, spears, and fists. They chant all day long, 'Divine fists protect the body, invulnerable to swords and spears,' tsk tsk..."

When the Yihe Incense Society was mentioned, the driver curled his lip and made two "tsk tsk" sounds, his disdain undisguised.

In his view, it was simply a pipe dream to think that practicing a few martial arts moves and eating some incense ash could stop cannons and guns.

Throughout the journey, Chen Zhan remained silent, simply listening attentively.

He could tell that the man was exaggerating a bit, but the gangs were real.

Tianjin is rife with gangs, a mixed bag of characters, and more complicated than he had anticipated.

Before long, the rickshaw stopped, and before Chen Zhan could get off, the noise from the inn rushed towards him.

The sounds of rock-paper-scissors, drinking, and laughter mingled together, along with the muffled thuds of heavy objects hitting each other; you could feel the lively atmosphere inside even through the door.

Chen Zhan got out of the carriage, took out a small piece of silver from his pocket, and handed it to the driver.

The driver quickly accepted the money with both hands, weighed it in his hand, and beamed with joy, bowing repeatedly in thanks.

"You don't believe what the Yihe Incense Society says?" Chen Zhan suddenly asked, his gaze falling on the coachman's face.

The driver scratched his head, looked at the silver in his hand, and, unwilling to lie, said frankly, "Of course! Do you believe me, sir? Just because you've practiced a few martial arts moves and eaten some incense ash, you think you can withstand cannons and guns? That's all self-deception."

Chen Zhan nodded slightly, turned and walked towards the inn's entrance, leaving behind a faint remark:
I believe you.

The driver held the silver, paused for a moment, shook his head, and walked away.
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P.S.: No more taking leave, I'll post it as soon as I'm done! (End of Chapter)