A person sacrifices himself to become a saint in a chaotic world of martial arts.

Chapter 159 The Rampant Blood Blade Gang

Zhong Ji leaned back in his chair, oblivious to the fact that the carved details on the back were digging into his back.

He gazed at the beam above his head, which was painted with colorful patterns of fortune, prosperity, longevity, and happiness, half-lit and half-dark in the candlelight.

His eyes flickered, his pupils sometimes contracting and sometimes dilating.

He's been in the underworld for decades; what kind of situation hasn't he seen?

Having survived the clash of swords and the treacherous schemes of life, what good is there in this world without a reason?

What kind of kindness is there that asks for nothing in return?

What Liang Yan valued was his external martial arts skills.

A master of the True Qi Realm is a treasure no matter where they are.

With the Golden Knife Alliance gone, Zhong Ji became ownerless, and Liang Yan wanted to take advantage of the situation. Just like those gamblers who pick up bargains in gambling dens, seeing someone lose all their possessions, they come up to them, offer them wine and meat, and finally coax them into betting their wives and children.

This is an exchange of benefits.

He worked for the Blood Blade Gang, and Liang Yan protected him.

Fair and reasonable.

But the problem is—

Can Liang Yan really protect him?

Su Bai, the commander of the Zhenfu Division, wiped out the Golden Knife Alliance overnight, killing Jin Tangjing as easily as killing a chicken.

Who is Jintang Jing?

At the peak of the mid-stage of the True Qi Realm, his Golden Saber technique was unparalleled. He had been able to roam freely in Qingyuan County for twenty years, and everyone who saw him had to bow down and call him "Master Jin".

Such a person, killed by Su Bai without a second thought, his head hung on the flagpole, exposed to the wind and sun, might have been pecked beyond recognition by crows.

Would someone like that back down just because Liang Yan said a few harsh words?

Zhong Ji was unsure.

He recalled the siege last night, the brigade officers who rushed into the courtyard, the torchlight illuminating half the sky, and the shouts of battle that made people's ears ring.

I recall those flashing swords, the sound of blades slicing through flesh, the sound of bones breaking, and the sound of blood splattering.

I recall those screams, pleas for mercy, the clash of weapons, and the crackling of wood bursting as houses burned down.

He remembered the glance he gave back when he climbed over the wall to escape.

Flames soared into the sky from the Golden Knife Alliance's headquarters, illuminating half the night sky in crimson. Flames leaped from the windows, licked the eaves, and turned the entire hall into a giant torch.

Thick black smoke billowed, carrying sparks as it hurtled towards the horizon, obscuring the moon.

That was the place he had lived for twenty years.

He rose through the ranks from a lowly henchman to the third elder there, married and had children there, issued orders there, and was respected there.

He knew every brick, every pillar, and every threshold there intimately.

They're all gone now.

Zhong Ji closed his eyes, shook his head violently, and tried to banish the image from his mind. He opened his eyes, his eyes feeling dry and sore, as if sand had gotten into them.

escape?

Escape from Qingyuan County?

He opened his eyes and looked down at his own rough, large hands.

His hand rested on the edge of the table, the veins on the back of his hand bulging like earthworms, his knuckles as thick as copper coins, covered in calluses, and the lines on his palm as deep as if carved by a knife.

These hands can only kill, can wield knives, can use their power, can snap people's necks, but can't do any work, can't farm, and can't do business.

What could he do if he escaped? Which gang would he join in another county? Why would they take him in?

A master of the True Qi Realm, burdened with a lot of trouble, is someone people avoid like the plague. They might even turn around and sell him out in exchange for a favor from the Zhenfu Division.

not to mention-

He lived in Qingyuan County for twenty years in a large house with three courtyards, a garden, a rockery, and a fish pond.

They eat delicacies from land and sea, things that fly in the sky, run on the ground, and swim in the water; they've tasted everything.

She was wearing fine silk and satin, Suzhou silk and Hangzhou satin, which felt smooth against her skin.

When they went out, they were served by servants, carried in sedan chairs, followed by attendants, who shouted to make way all the way.

He had people listening to him; if he coughed, the people below wouldn't dare to breathe.

He could find those restaurants, gambling dens, and brothels with his eyes closed.

The shopkeepers, madams, and pimps all bowed and scraped before him, calling him "Third Master Zhong" and practically begging to kneel down and lick his shoes.

Should we make him give up all of this and start over from scratch in another city?

He can't.

Zhong Ji gritted his teeth, the muscles in his cheeks tensed up, forming two hard lumps, and his jaw clenched so hard it made a grinding sound.

Perhaps he's overthinking it.

Since Liang Yan dared to take him in, he must have been confident.

The Blood Knife Gang has been in Qingyuan County for so many years; they're not to be trifled with.

The more than three hundred brothers were all seasoned veterans; if a real fight broke out, they might not be afraid of the Zhenfu Division.

Su Bai had just destroyed the Golden Knife Alliance, and his strength had not yet recovered. His men were either dead or wounded, so he might not dare to turn against the Blood Knife Gang immediately.

If he were smart, he should have known when to quit while he was ahead, and let the Golden Knife Alliance's territory and assets take a few years to digest before making any further moves.

He picked up his wine cup and found that it had been refilled sometime earlier.

The wine was clear, reflecting the candlelight, and swayed gently.

He tilted his head back and drank it all down. The strong liquor burned his throat, stinging his esophagus and all the way to his stomach, making him wince.

Hopefully, he's just overthinking it.

Footsteps came from outside the door.

Zhong Ji's heart tightened, and he subconsciously sat up straight, his back taut against the chair back.

His hand rested on the edge of the table, his fingers slightly curled, the calluses on his palm rubbing against the wood grain of the tabletop.

The footsteps grew closer, each step on the blue bricks of the corridor steady and powerful, carrying a certain self-satisfied rhythm. It was Liang Yan's footsteps; he recognized them—he had grown accustomed to them all afternoon.

Sure enough, Liang Yan strode across the threshold, his blue robe fluttering slightly in the night breeze, the hem of the robe billowing.

He had a smile on his face, a smug smile, his eyes narrowed into slits, almost to the point that his pupils were no longer visible, and the corners of his mouth turned up so high that they almost reached his ears.

Zhong Ji quickly stood up, the chair legs scraping loudly on the floor: "Brother Liang, how is it?"

"Hahahaha!" Liang Yan laughed loudly, the sound echoing in the hall, making the candlelight flicker. He waved his hand, "Sit down, sit down, don't stand. It's nothing, why are you so nervous?"

He walked to the table, sat down with an air of authority, and with a flick of his robe, his movements were elegant and swift.

He picked up the wine cup in front of Zhong Ji, without even looking at it, and took a sip from the rim of the cup that Zhong Ji had drunk from. His Adam's apple bobbed, and he swallowed it with a gulp.

"I gave those bastards from the Garrison Command a piece of my mind." He put down his wine cup, wiped his mouth, and casually wiped his hands, which were stained with wine, on his robe. His eyes were full of smugness, practically gleaming. "Two lowly soldiers dared to come to my Blood Blade Gang demanding someone? A few words from me and they were scared out of their wits, slinking away like peas in the wind!"

Zhong Ji was taken aback: "You retaliated?"

"Absolutely!" Liang Yan slammed his hand on the table with a loud crash, causing the bowls and plates to jump up, chopsticks to roll over, and soup to splash out. "You didn't see the faces of those two people. They looked like their fathers had died. They were as white as paper, and their lips were even turning blue."

I pointed at their noses and yelled, "Get the hell out of here! Su Bai, if you're so capable, come and demand the person yourself! What kind of people are you, sending a few Tom, Dick, and Harry?"

As he spoke, he laughed again, laughing so hard his shoulders shook, he bent over backwards, and tears welled up in his eyes.

He reached up and wiped his eyes, laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

Zhong Ji listened, feeling a mix of emotions he couldn't quite describe.

He certainly hoped that Liang Yan could drive away the people from the Zhenfu Division, but judging from Liang Yan's tone, he felt that he was being somewhat unsteady, as if he were walking on clouds.

"So—they just left like that?" he asked cautiously, his voice very soft, as if afraid of startling something.

"What else can they do but leave?" Liang Yan glanced at him sideways, a hint of mockery in his eyes. "Just two people, daring to fight my Blood Blade Gang? They'd be lucky to survive! My Blood Blade Gang has over three hundred brothers; one spit from each of them could drown them!"

He reached for the wine pot, filled his own cup, and then poured one for Zhong Ji. The wine poured from the spout, shimmering in the candlelight.

He raised his wine cup, the wine inside swirling slightly: "Brother Zhong, relax! With me here, you can rest assured. If Su Bai knows what's good for him, he should know when to stop. If he doesn't..."

He sneered, a cold glint flashing in his eyes, as sharp as a knife in a winter night: "My Blood Blade Gang has over three hundred brothers, and we're not to be trifled with!"

Zhong Ji looked at him, at his confident face, radiant and beaming, and the thorn in his heart seemed to loosen a little.

Yes, the Blood Blade Gang is not the Golden Blade Alliance.

Liang Yan is not Jin Tangjing.

Jintang is old, in his sixties or seventies. He indulges in pleasure and is addicted to wine and women. He has long lost the vigor he had in his youth.

The elders below were also scheming and engaged in open and covert struggles, none willing to submit to the others. If a real fight broke out, their hearts would be divided, and they would fall apart.

The Blood Blade Gang is different. Its headquarters is impregnable, with towering walls and a sturdy gate. Inside, the warehouses are piled high with knives, spears, and halberds.

With Liang Yan in charge of the central command, he could launch an attack at will, and all his subordinates respected him. At his command, no one dared to disobey.

and-

Su Bai just destroyed the Golden Knife Alliance. Even if he wanted to take action against the Blood Knife Gang, he would have to think twice, right?

Having fought against two major gangs in succession, isn't he afraid of other forces joining forces?

The Iron Palm Gang, the Wei family, and all those scattered small gangs—aren't they all eyeing us covetously?

If Su Bai insists on going his own way and pushes them to the brink, they will unite, and even the strongest Zhenfu Division will not be able to withstand it.

As Zhong Ji thought about it, his tense shoulders gradually relaxed and slumped down.

He raised his wine cup and gestured towards Liang Yan, the cup gleaming amber in the candlelight: "Brother Liang, thank you."

Liang Yan laughed heartily, his face scrunched up: "Oh, stop being so formal. Let's drink!"

The two drank together and finished their drinks.

As the wine entered his throat, Zhong Ji felt that warmth return, rising from his stomach and spreading throughout his body, making him feel completely comfortable.

He looked at Liang Yan, at that sincere smiling face, radiant with health and warmth in his eyes, and his doubts gradually dissipated.

Perhaps he's overthinking it.

Liang Yan is truly loyal.

After several rounds of drinks and five courses of food,

Liang Yan's cheeks glowed red, as if she had applied rouge, and her voice became louder, making people's ears ring.

He patted Zhong Ji's shoulder with a heavy, powerful pat that made Zhong Ji's shoulder go slightly numb.

He went on and on about the Blood Blade Gang's glory over the years, how he, Liang Yan, established himself in Qingyuan County, and how he rose from a small gang to where he is today. He also talked about where those who dared to oppose him had gone and where they were buried in mass graves.

Zhong Ji listened, occasionally agreeing with a few words, but his mind was wandering.

He thought of Jintang Jing.

Jin Tangjing was just as glamorous and spirited during his lifetime.

He sat in the main seat of the Golden Knife Alliance council hall, in a tiger-skin chair with a golden knife hanging behind him. When he spoke, the people below dared not breathe, their heads bowed and meekly obeying.

But now?

The human head hung on the flagpole of the Zhenfu Division, exposed to wind, sun, rain, and frost. It might have already rotted and stinked, its eyes pecked out by crows, leaving only two black holes.

He shivered, his whole body trembled, and he quickly picked up his wine cup and took a sip. The strong liquor burned his throat, suppressing the thought.

"Report—!"

Suddenly, another urgent announcement came from outside the door.

This shout was sharper and more urgent than before, as if something extremely urgent had happened, as if the sky were about to collapse. The last note was hoarse and broken, echoing in the night sky.

Liang Yan's hand froze in mid-air, gripping the wine cup. His fingers stiffened, and the smile on his face froze, solidifying little by little, as if frozen in time.

Zhong Ji's heart sank; the thorn had pierced him again, deeper and more painfully.

"What is it now?!" Liang Yan slammed down the wine cup, which struck the table with a crisp "crack," splashing wine onto the table and wetting a small area.

He stood up so abruptly that the chair tipped backward and crashed to the ground with a thud.

His face was full of impatience, his brows were furrowed, and a sinister glint flashed in his eyes.

The leader rushed in again, this time even more panicked than before. His face was deathly pale, as white as paper, and large beads of sweat were dripping down his face.

He was running so fast that he tripped on the threshold, stumbled as he rushed in, and almost fell.

"Boss! The Garrison Commander is here again!"

Liang Yan frowned, then frowned even more deeply, a deep frown forming between his brows: "Again? Those same two people again?"

"No, no!" the foreman gasped, his chest heaving. "There are a lot of people this time! Dozens! They've already surrounded the entrance! They've lit torches, it's like daytime!"

Liang Yan was stunned.

Zhong Ji was also stunned.

Dozens of people?

That's not just bluffing, they're really going to do it?

Liang Yan's expression kept changing, his brows furrowed, turning pale and then red.

He gritted his teeth, his cheek muscles tensed, and two hard lumps bulged out.

A sinister glint flashed in his eyes, and his gaze turned somber, like the sky before a storm.

"I'm going out to take a look."

He lifted his foot and walked out, his steps heavy, thumping on the ground.

Zhong Ji quickly stood up, pushing his chair back with a creak, "Brother Liang, I'll go with you!"

"No need." Liang Yan didn't turn around, her steps uninterrupted. Her voice came from ahead, muffled, "You stay here."

"I want to see what Su Bai is up to!"

As soon as he finished speaking, he stepped across the threshold and disappeared into the night outside. His silhouette was swallowed by the darkness, like a drop of water falling into an inkwell, vanishing in an instant.

Zhong Ji stood there, gazing in the direction where he had disappeared. His heart sank deeper and deeper, as if a stone was weighing him down, falling and falling until he reached an abyss.

He slowly sat back down in his chair, the chair legs scraping against the floor with a harsh sound. He picked up his wine glass, but found his hand trembling slightly, the trembling growing more and more violent, like a withered leaf in the wind.

The wine in the cup swayed gently, reflecting the candlelight overhead, flickering and changing.