Volume Three: Storm at Xuanwu Gate, Chapter Eighty-Five: Beastly Crimes

After dealing with Ma Boliang and Tong Dekun, there were still a dozen or so henchmen from the Fierce Tiger Gang left in the front yard.

Although the commotion caused by Mingyu just moments ago had been considerable, the men of the Fierce Tiger Gang remained oblivious to what had transpired.

At this moment, the front courtyard blazed with lanterns and torches, casting their bright light over pine beams and illuminating the area as if it were broad daylight. Around ten burly men from the gang, sabres at their waists and wielding whips and wooden clubs, bustled about, shouting loudly as they received the children brought in today from various regions, all victims of abduction.

The children—no older than five or six, boys and girls alike, some in rags and some in finer clothes—stood huddled together in the yard, their hair matted and faces filthy. Yet one thing united them all: their expressions were blank, faces numb with despair. The bitter wind lashed them, leaving their small faces mottled with the blue and purple hues of cold. There is no greater grief than the death of hope; their faces were void of emotion, their eyes devoid of expectation. They moved only when harshly ordered by the gang’s henchmen, as if resigned to their fate.

Regardless of gender, wealth, or appearance, each one had once been cherished by their parents, coddled and adored. Yet now, snatched by these wicked traffickers—whether by trickery or brute force—they found themselves torn from home, brought far from all they knew, to the central plains, never to see their families again.

They had cried, struggled, and even tried to escape, but their reward had only been merciless beatings, hunger, and cold. When one of the more defiant children had been beaten to death right before their eyes, the rest had been terrified into total submission. The memory of that child’s tragic death—his body growing cold, tears still wet on his cheeks—haunted their dreams and left them in constant, shivering fear.

Liu the Boss gazed at the more than twenty children before him as if beholding a grove of money trees, an avaricious gleam he could no longer conceal lighting his face.

Though, in the end, only a handful of these children would fall into his hands—leftovers after others had had their pick—Liu the Boss was content. Having been a criminal for many years, he was confident that, once in his grasp, he would mold these children through his cruel methods, breaking them as he pleased.

With more children under his control, there were more mouths to feed, and for now, his income could not keep up. He decided he would increase the daily quotas for Little Stone and the others by another fifty percent. As they grew older, they ate more—if they didn’t work harder, how would they survive? If they failed, he would beat them mercilessly, and if they died, he would not care—new ones would always arrive to take their place.

The more Liu the Boss thought, the more pleased he became. He was already considering, once today’s business was done, whether to go visit Widow Liang in the nearby mountain village for a little relaxation.

The thought of Widow Liang’s ample figure and pale skin made him restless, his belly burning with desire.

The more he dwelled on it, the stronger his agitation, his eyes growing lascivious. Suddenly, he noticed among the children a little girl in red, plump and fair, exceptionally adorable.

Despite her disheveled appearance and tender age, it was clear she would grow into a beauty. To look so lovely at so young an age—what would she be like grown? Perhaps she’d become the star of some brothel or the plaything of a wealthy household. In any case, she was destined for a tragic fate—why not let him enjoy her first? With that thought, Liu the Boss seized the little girl from the crowd. The more he looked at her, the more he liked her, unable to resist pinching and kneading her soft cheeks with his filthy hands.

The little girl, seeing the obscene desire on his face and the wolfish hunger in his eyes, was so terrified she became numb, unable to resist, her mouth open in a silent scream.

Liu the Boss groped her face with his paw, leering, "So smooth and tender!" Overcome with lust, he forgot she was just a child of three or four, eager to throw her down and ravage her, unleashing his beastly urges.

At this, the others noticed something amiss in Liu the Boss’s demeanor. Someone called out, “Liu! Liu, what are you doing? Don’t forget Old Master Duan’s orders!”

At the mention of Duan Hu, the gang’s leader, it was as though a bucket of cold water had been dumped over his head.

Liu the Boss grew somewhat sober, forcing down his lust. That was close! If Old Master Duan learned he had violated orders and tampered with this batch of goods, he would flay him alive in a rage.

To see but not to touch—to have the prize within reach yet forbidden—made Liu the Boss’s face contort with frustration. He shoved the little girl to the ground in a fit of rage.

Watching her sob silently, pitiful and trembling, Liu the Boss felt a surge of viciousness well up from deep inside. If he could not have her, no one else would! Out of sight, out of mind—better to destroy her completely!

With this dark thought, his malice intensified. He raised his foot, aiming a vicious kick at the little girl’s frail body.

At only three or four years old, she was small and weak. Liu the Boss, a grown man with some martial arts training—if his kick landed, she would at best have broken bones, at worst be killed outright.

But halfway through the kick, an object shot out of nowhere, striking the nerve inside his thigh with unerring precision.

The force was tremendous—not only halting his kick, but causing him to stumble.

Liu the Boss cursed, thinking the little girl had tripped him, his fury mounting as he prepared to continue his assault.

Suddenly, a clear voice rang out, filled with murderous intent: “If you dare touch her again, I’ll make you beg for death!”

“Who’s there?!” The Fierce Tiger Gang men were startled—this hidden, secluded place now resounded with an unfamiliar voice, making them uneasy and suspicious. They stopped what they were doing and turned toward the sound.

From behind a crumbling wall stepped a tall young man, sword in hand, his face grim and icy, brows drawn like swords, eyes blazing with unrestrained killing intent.

It was Li Mingyu! After dealing with the Deadly Sword and Laughing Maitreya, he had resolved not to let a single one of these fiends escape.

Just as he arrived in the front courtyard, he witnessed Liu the Boss’s vicious act and was instantly filled with righteous fury—he could not restrain himself. Seeing he was too far away to intervene in time, he had thrown his sword scabbard as a missile, striking Liu the Boss and stopping him.

“It’s you! How did you… Hu San! Hu San, where the hell are you?” Liu the Boss, recognizing him, was shocked. How had the “hostage,” so tightly bound, managed to escape? Had someone come to rescue him?

Li Mingyu sneered and replied, “No use calling for him. He’s already gone ahead to the underworld! And don’t worry—you’ll be joining him soon!”

“You little bastard! Such arrogance! All of you, get him!” Liu the Boss, both furious and panicked, shouted to his men.

A dozen Fierce Tiger Gang thugs, dropping their whips and clubs, drew their blades and surged forward.

Liu the Boss, ever cunning, barked for his men to attack but did not move himself.

He was thinking: This kid came from the main hall—what happened to the Deadly Sword and Laughing Maitreya? Why haven’t they shown up? Could it be… they’ve already been dealt with?

The more he thought, the more fearful he became. It was entirely possible. With that, Liu the Boss, dragging his injured leg, began to edge backward.

Li Mingyu raised his sword and sneered coldly, “Excellent! Today, not one of you will leave this place alive!”