Rebirth in a Courtyard: I Am a Little Hunter

After wandering around for about half an hour, Wei Chen had a general understanding of the situation in the entire city of Beishi. Without further hesitation, he turned around and headed back towards the dimly lit, flickering lantern-lit doorway.

The square-faced gatekeeper was squatting and smoking. Seeing Wei Chen, this towering figure, return, he frowned slightly and stood up warily: "Brother, are you done shopping so quickly? Or is something wrong?"

Wei Chen walked up to him, his tall figure casting a deep shadow under the light, completely enveloping the other man. He deliberately concealed most of his aura, but the invisible pressure still remained.

He pulled a freshly opened pack of "Dashengchan" cigarettes from his pocket, took one out, and handed it over.

"I'm looking for your boss." Wei Chen's voice was deliberately low and hoarse, carrying an undeniable composure. "To discuss a business deal."

The square-faced man took the cigarette and, by the light of the lantern, glanced at the brand. It was a common, mass-produced brand, not high-end, but not bad either. He held the cigarette, not lighting it immediately, his eyes scanning Wei Chen's blurry face and strong physique with scrutiny and a hint of barely perceptible apprehension.

"Looking for our boss?" The square-faced man sneered, his tone mocking. "Brother, you've got some nerve. Our boss isn't someone anyone can just see whenever they want. I've been guarding this place for three years, and I can count the number of times I've seen him on one hand."

Wei Chen remained unmoved, his tone calm yet powerful: "Then find someone here who can handle this. It's a big deal."

The square-faced man stared at Wei Chen for a few seconds, seemingly weighing the weight of his words and the strength represented by his physique. In the end, he seemed to think that Wei Chen wasn't joking or looking for trouble.

He picked up the cigarette, pulled a box of matches from his pocket, struck one with a hiss, lit it, took a deep drag, and then shouted into the shadows behind the doorway. His voice wasn't loud, but it pierced through the nearby noise:

"Monkey! Come here!"

As he shouted, a figure emerged from a deeper, shadowy corner behind the doorway, covered by a tattered tarpaulin.

This man was indeed short, only a little over 1.6 meters tall, with a lean build, like a dried bamboo pole. He wore an ill-fitting black cloth jacket that looked rather loose. He moved with extraordinary agility, his footsteps so light they were almost silent, and he darted to the square-faced man's side in just a few steps, like a cat.

His face was narrow with prominent cheekbones, and his eyes darted around in the dim light, revealing a shrewdness and cunning beyond his years; he looked to be only seventeen or eighteen.

"Brother Biao, what's up?" The skinny boy, nicknamed "Monkey," looked up and asked the square-faced man in a high-pitched voice.

Brother Biao gestured with his chin toward Wei Chen: "This brother says he has a 'big deal' and wants to meet someone who can take responsibility. You take him to see Brother Tiger." He then turned to Wei Chen, his tone carrying a hint of warning, "Monkey, lead the way. But brother, Brother Tiger has a temper. If you mess with him, the consequences... you'd better think it over."

The monkey's bright eyes immediately focused on Wei Chen, quickly scanning him up and down. It lingered for a moment on Wei Chen's exaggerated muscular physique, a hint of surprise flashing in its eyes, but it was quickly concealed.

He put on a worldly smile that seemed out of place for his age, bowed slightly, and gestured for him to come in: "Sir, please come with me. Tiger is resting in the back. But... you know the rules, don't let your eyes wander or your hands move."

Wei Chen nodded slightly, signaling him to lead the way. The monkey turned around and, like a slippery eel, nimbly slipped into the even denser darkness behind the doorway, a darkness that seemed to devour light.

Wei Chen strode forward and steadily followed, his tall figure quickly swallowed by the shadows. Brother Biao watched the direction they disappeared in, took another deep drag on his cigarette, the crimson butt flickering in the dim light.

The monkey's lean figure, like a gecko blending into the shadows, led the way. He didn't take the main road of the ghost market, but instead clung to the collapsed bricks and stones at the base of the city wall, squeezing through several gaps barely covered by tattered tarpaulins and broken planks. Underfoot was soft mud, broken bricks, and unidentified filth; the air was thick with an even stronger musty smell and a faint stench of urine.

Wei Chen's tall frame appeared somewhat clumsy in this cramped environment, but his movements were exceptionally steady and agile, always managing to avoid obstacles perfectly. His heavy footsteps landed almost silently on soft ground.

The monkey would occasionally stop, cautiously looking around, its bright eyes scanning the darkness to make sure no one was following or watching before continuing on its way. It knew this area as well as it did its own backyard.

After walking for about two or three minutes, we turned a corner past a huge, moss-covered ruin of a city wall, and a relatively open depression appeared before us. In the center of the depression, a low brick house stood all alone.

The house was clearly abandoned; half of the roof had collapsed, exposing the blackened rafters, while the other half was barely covered by thick tarpaulin and salvaged asbestos tiles.

The walls were mottled, and the windows were nothing but empty frames, covered with yellowed old newspapers to keep out the wind. A slightly bright kerosene lamp hung by the door, its dim yellow light barely dispelling the darkness in front of the house.

Two men, both dressed in black, stood with their arms crossed, like door gods, in the shadows on either side of the doorway, their eyes sharp as eagles. When they saw Monkey bring Wei Chen over, their gazes instantly focused on Wei Chen's imposing physique, their bodies tensing slightly, one hand instinctively resting on their waist.

"Monkey, what are you doing?" a man with pockmarks on his face asked in a deep, hoarse voice.

"Brother Ma Zi, this guy says he has a 'big deal,' and Brother Biao asked me to bring him to see Brother Hu." Monkey quickly stepped forward, bowing and scraping as he explained.

The man with pockmarks exchanged a glance with the other man, then scrutinized Wei Chen again. Wei Chen stood calmly, the tattered cloth still draped over his shoulder, covering his mouth and nose, revealing only a pair of eyes that appeared unusually calm under the light. He deliberately concealed most of his aura, but the very outline of his frame and muscles was a silent intimidation.

"Search him." Brother Ma said succinctly, stepping forward and gesturing for Wei Chen to raise his arms.

Wei Chen did as instructed, his movements unhurried and deliberate. The man with the pockmarked face quickly and professionally patted and searched Wei Chen's armpits, waist, and sides to confirm he wasn't carrying any obvious weapons. He paid no attention to the loose change and small items hidden in the folds of his clothes. The other man, however, watched Wei Chen's hands warily.

"Alright, go in. Tiger's here." Pockmarked Brother stepped back, clearing the doorway. Monkey gestured for Wei Chen to go in, but instead of following him in, he retreated into the shadows outside the door.

Wei Chen lowered his head slightly, stepped over the threshold, and entered the temporary base.

The interior was even more dilapidated than the exterior, but also more "livable." The floor was compacted dirt, uneven and full of potholes. The walls were dark, with a dim, yellowish kerosene lamp hanging there, barely illuminating the small space.

In the center of the room sat a makeshift stove made from a broken iron bucket, with a few coal nuggets burning in the firebox, emitting a weak heat and a pungent smell of coal smoke. On the stove sat a large, blackened enamel mug, inside which something was bubbling and simmering, emitting a cheap smell of tea stalks.

Some burlap sacks and wooden crates were piled against the wall, their contents obscured. In the corner lay a pile of dry straw, on which a greasy, tattered quilt was haphazardly rolled up.

At the far end, with its back to the door, stood a dilapidated eight-immortal table, missing a leg and propped up with bricks. A figure sat on the only broken wooden chair beside the table, with its back to the door, seemingly rummaging through something.

Hearing footsteps, the figure slowly turned around.

The light illuminated his face. To Wei Chen's surprise, this leader, known as "Tiger Brother," didn't seem to have much of the "thuggishness" he had imagined.

He was around forty years old, of medium build, and wearing a faded gray jacket with the front open, revealing a similarly faded undershirt underneath.

There was indeed a noticeable scar on his face, running diagonally from his left temple across his brow bone and down to his sideburn, breaking off a section of his left eyebrow. But this scar didn't make him look ferocious; instead, it added a touch of vicissitude and ruggedness to his square face. His eyes were calm, even carrying a hint of barely perceptible weariness, like those of an ordinary middle-aged man struggling to make a living.

"Brother Tiger, this gentleman says he has business to discuss," Brother Pockmarked's voice rang out from the doorway.

Tiger's gaze fell on Wei Chen, calmly scanning him as if he were examining an object, without any emotional fluctuation, yet it seemed to penetrate the tattered cloth on Wei Chen's face.

He didn't speak immediately, but picked up the enamel mug on the table, blew on it to warm it, took a slow sip, and then spoke. His voice was low, carrying a calm composure born of long-standing authority and a barely perceptible hoarseness:

"I heard you were looking for me?"

Wei Chen met Tiger's gaze and spoke calmly, his deliberately lowered voice ringing out clearly in the dilapidated house: "Yes. I want to cooperate with you." He paused, then cut to the chase, "I have two pigs I'd like to sell to you. What price are you willing to offer?"

"A pig?" Tiger's eyebrows twitched almost imperceptibly, causing the scar on his broken eyebrow to twitch. He put down the enamel mug, leaned forward slightly, and placed his hands crossed on the worn table, his gaze sharpening. "Alive? Dead? Weight? Condition?" His questions were concise and direct, showing that he was no stranger to this kind of transaction.

"Dead. Just taken down recently. They were plump and strong, each weighing around 350-360 jin." Wei Chen's answer was equally concise.