Master of Chinese Martial Arts: I Can Steal the Skills of a Grandmaster from the Republic of China E

Chapter 99 Flower Arrangement Tai Sui

The next morning, Renault assigned tasks.

"Teams one and two, investigate the underground pits according to the characteristics of the marked river sections."

He drew several circles on the map. "Detective Zhou, you are familiar with the area. Take Hans and make your own arrangements."

"Yes. Shall we start from the Tianhou Temple? We haven't been to see the River God Festival yet."

Zhou Xing asked.

"Can."

Renault withdrew his gaze. "Let's go."

"Detective Zhou, shall we go directly to investigate the marked sections of the river with the hidden openings?"

The two groups parted ways at the entrance of the police station.

Zhou Xing sat in the passenger seat, Hans drove, and Chen Qi and another Chinese constable followed in the back seat.

As the car drove into the old town, leaving the Western-style buildings of the French Concession behind, the scenery outside the window was gradually replaced by gray walls and black tiles and the hustle and bustle of the city.

We've arrived at the Tianhou Temple.

Even though there were still four days until the main day of the River God Festival, the square in front of the palace was already bustling with people.

A massive, colorful archway spans the street corner. People of all kinds, setting up colorful tents and incense tables, move about busily, and the air is filled with the unique aroma of raw materials, paints, and incense.

The eaves of the main hall soar high, and the glazed tiles gleam warmly in the autumn sun, overlooking the grand preparations that are underway.

This temple is older than Tianjin itself.

In the early days, grain was transported from the south to the north, all via the Haihe River. Boatmen and canal workers risked their lives to make a living, relying entirely on the protection of the sea god.

In the previous dynasty, he was granted an imperial title and a plaque for his meritorious service in protecting the grain transport, and from then on, his incense offerings flourished.

When the emperor went south of the Yangtze River, he saw the grand scale of the imperial sacrificial procession and named it "Imperial Assembly," elevating it to an unparalleled and lofty status.

Over the past century, this has become more than just a religious activity; it has become a grand festival deeply ingrained in the culture of Tianjin.

Not only did ordinary people flock to the city, but government officials also stepped forward to preside over the event. Wealthy merchants donated money and effort, and foreigners from the concessions came to witness the ceremony, not to mention the various social classes and martial arts sects that mingled among them.

Drums, stilt walkers, and multi-tiered pavilions. This was a rare and permitted celebration in a chaotic world.

"Detective Zhou, where should we begin?"

Hans followed, his hand never far from the holster.

"First, take a look at the terrain and get a general idea of ​​what's going on."

Zhou Xing talked as he walked.

His gaze swept across the crowd, his steps unwavering, leading Hans and the others across the square toward the river outside the palace walls.

His target was not the flowers in front of him, but the three-way backwater pool where the rivers converged and the water swirled, a hundred paces away.

That was one of the four possible river-suppressing points that Xuan Chengzi had mentioned.

The closer you get to the river, the fewer people you see, but the area becomes more complex with warehouses and old docks. The fishy smell of the river in the air grows stronger.

Just as I turned into a relatively quiet narrow alley, four or five men suddenly appeared at the intersection ahead and blocked my way.

They were all strong, muscular men in their early twenties, dressed in slightly worn short-sleeved shirts, with a savage and wary look in their eyes typical of low-level thugs.

The leader was a young man with a yellowish face. He was taken aback at first, and then his gaze quickly swept over Zhou Xing and Hans's uniforms.

The sallow-faced youth didn't speak immediately, but quickly gave a wink to a short man next to him.

The short man understood, and without saying a word, he turned and ran towards the depths of the alley, clearly going to deliver the message.

Zhou Xing did not stop him, knowing full well what was going on.

This place is close to the territory of the Green Gang. The sudden appearance of several unfamiliar faces, especially those accompanied by foreign police officers, would naturally attract the attention of the lookouts below, who would then report it.

Especially just a few days ago, when the foreign police officers caused a ruckus at Sanchakou, the Green Gang was on high alert.

"Gentlemen, there's no way forward. Could you please take a different route?"

The sallow-faced young man spoke, his tone stiff and wary. He was stalling for time, waiting for someone in charge to arrive.

Hans frowned and stepped forward: "The police are investigating a case, please move aside."

The sallow-faced youth stiffened his neck, about to say something, when hurried footsteps came from the other end of the alley. Seven or eight people walked quickly towards them, the two leading them clearly having different demeanors.

The one on the left, around forty years old, was stocky with dark skin, large knuckles, and a fierce look in his eyes. He was the kind of tough leader who often carried heavy loads and managed laborers at the docks. His name was Peng Dajiao.

The one on the right, a few years older and thinner, wearing a dark blue silk jacket, with more lively eyes, is Bai Shan, who is in charge of the accounts of several docks and welcoming and seeing off guests at Qinghe Hall. His surname is Wu.

As soon as Peng Dajiao arrived, he glanced at Zhou Xing and the others, and his gaze lingered on Hans's face for a moment before his expression darkened.

He received an urgent report from below that police officers from the concession had led foreigners to the riverbank near the core territory of the triad.

Master He Laowu had been humiliated by the foreign police officers, which had significantly impacted his business, and he was in a bad mood these past few days.

Peng Dajiao knew his superiors' intentions, and upon hearing that this group had come again, he naturally wanted to vent his anger for his boss. That was his livelihood, after all.

"What happened?"

Peng Dajiao's voice was rough as he stared at Zhou Xing, "This is private property. Unauthorized personnel, please take a detour."

Zhou Xing remained silent, but Chen Qi couldn't help but speak up: "We are from the French Concession Police Station—"

"I don't care where you're from, you police officer!"

Peng Dajiao interrupted impatiently, chuckling to himself, "I'm looking for you, the French Concession police."

He took a step forward, and several thugs surrounded him, their hands on their waists. The atmosphere suddenly became tense. "In this area, the Qinghe Hall of the Green Gang calls the shots! If you know what's good for you, get out of here! If you don't want to leave, look at your delicate skin, you could stay and be a porter's wife."

The men laughed heartily, joking that the one in the middle who was leading the group was the prettiest and could be the top courtesan at the dock.

Zhou Xing raised an eyebrow, his face expressionless. Chen Qi blushed, glaring angrily. Hans's hand rested on his holster, his eyes narrowing.

Just then, Mr. Wu, who had been silent all along, suddenly exclaimed "Eh!"

He stepped forward, blocking Peng Dajiao's side, and carefully examined Zhou Xing with thoughtful eyes.

Peng Dajiao was somewhat displeased to see Mr. Wu blocking his way and staring at him: "Old Wu?"

Mr. Wu ignored him, cupped his hands in a respectful gesture towards Zhou Xing, and said in a tentative but much more polite tone, "Forgive my poor eyesight, but may I ask this superior officer—are you the Flower Arrangement Master?"

Flower arrangement of Tai Sui?

What kind of name is that? I've never heard of it.

Zhou Xing muttered to himself, then replied, "I am Zhou Xing."

Mr. Wu immediately forced a smile, though it was somewhat strained. He stepped aside to make way, giving Peng Dajiao a stern look: "So it really is a misunderstanding! It's all a misunderstanding! Dajiao, get out of the way!"

Peng Dajiao was stunned. He looked at Mr. Wu and then at Zhou Xing, his face twitching. He clearly didn't fully understand. But Mr. Wu was the leader of the gang, and he was smarter than him. His position was also more delicate.

He held his breath, let out a heavy groan, and waved his hand reluctantly.

The thugs who had surrounded him, though confused, observed his expression and gradually dispersed.

Mr. Wu's smile widened: "Detective Zhou, please, please! My men were a bit rude, please don't take offense."

"So it really was me?"

Zhou Xing's eyelid twitched.

Since these people have made way for us, there's no reason for us to cause trouble.

Zhou Xing stopped looking at them and said to Hans, "Let's go."

He strode forward, and Peng Dajiao and his men could only watch helplessly as they passed by.

After Zhou Xing and the others had walked away, Peng Dajiao lowered his voice and asked Mr. Wu angrily, "Old Wu, what are you up to? A mere Chinese constable, what are you afraid of!"

Mr. Wu watched Zhou Xing's figure disappear around the alley corner before his smile vanished. He muttered, "What do you know! That's the Flower Arrangement Demon! A few days ago at the Flower Arrangement venue, he single-handedly crippled all the Japanese experts hired by the Black Dragon Society! The higher-ups have said that this fiend is not to be trifled with for the time being!"

He had heard about the flower arrangement incident a few days ago. The story was told in great detail that a young Chinese constable drew a circle and took on a group of Japanese samurai. In the end, he beat them all until their bones were broken and their tendons were broken. Even the leader, Yagyu Muneaki, was beaten until he vomited blood and fled in defeat, earning him the fearsome reputation of the Flower Arrangement King.

The higher-ups have given a strong warning: we should avoid these kinds of people for now. They're not worth getting involved with.

Mr. Wu has a good memory, especially for faces. The more he looked at Zhou Xing, the more he felt that he matched the person in the message: young, calm, and beautiful.

"So it was him. I never would have guessed. Rumors say he had a blue face and fangs, and was ten feet tall. They also said he single-handedly caused chaos in ten or so places, killing countless people."

They even tied the severed heads together with rope, strung them into a string, and took them back to show off their achievements, like a skewer of candied hawthorns.

One of the men, suddenly engrossed in his boasting, started bragging to the other, unfamiliar thugs. Anyone unaware of the situation would have thought he was the real tyrant.

Peng Dajiao's expression also changed as he recalled the rumors from a few days ago.

Those who frequent the docks know best which reputation is built on hype and which is earned through hard work. This "flower-arranging tyrant" clearly belongs to the latter.