Chapter 23: Burning Incense to Worship Ghosts

With a muffled sound, the copper coin leopard finally succumbed to its fate. Its belly, at its weakest, had been gouged open, leaving a gaping bloody hole, from which a heart the size of a fist was extracted—astonishingly, it was still throbbing. Truly, this was a priceless living medicine; the heart exuded not only the scent of blood but also a thick, pungent odor reminiscent of bone broth.

Kou Li found a cloth to wrap it in, then tucked it into his chest. Only then did his forearms, twisted like mechanical contraptions, rotate nearly a full circle and return to their proper position. Bruises soon blossomed along the inner side of his arms—red and purple, blotched—no need for contemplation; Kou Li knew at once that his meridians were damaged and his flesh torn. Ordinary methods of recovery would require at least ten days of rest.

Striking with soul-drawing force, delivering fatal pressure-point blows, was never a simple feat. If not for his “minutely perceptive” ability, letting him sense every subtle change inside his body with precision, it would have been impossible to master this pressure-point technique in such a short time.

Yet compared to the benefits gained, these minor injuries were nothing. In just a few months, the Kou Li who once had to rely on desperate gambles and luck to escape at the mouth of Qingni Alley now handled five armed thugs from the gang with ease.

If it were a true fight, with real weapons, perhaps it would have taken longer—he might even have suffered a few cuts if luck was poor—but the Soul Palm technique was a bug-like existence against ordinary thugs.

Time was pressing; these thoughts flashed through Kou Li’s mind in an instant. He quickly fished out the keys and the bottle containing the leopard embryo pills, unlocking the cells one by one.

“I know you’ve only been drugged with anesthetic soup. Your consciousness is still clear, able to sense the changes outside. You all heard what was said just now—the leopard embryo pill’s effects, taken as half a pill, should counteract the anesthetic’s power. Whether you can maintain your sanity, that will depend on yourselves.”

“Heaven may not grant you a chance, but I will. Yet you’ll only get one!”

Kou Li opened cell after cell, unconcerned with the inmates’ opinions, tossing a pill inside each. Whether they ate or not was up to them. But upon opening the last cell, he encountered a “strange man.”

This man was covered head to toe in tattoos, dyed with pigments so he looked like a dazzlingly colored fish—something about him seemed familiar.

“Thank you, benefactor,” the man struggled to say.

“Long Clan?” Kou Li suddenly asked, at last recognizing the similarity in tattoos and aura to Lu Zhixiong.

“Yes, my name is Croc.”

“Do you know Lu Zhixiong?”

The man paused, then his eyes blazed with hatred, gritting his teeth as he replied, “Of course I know him. It’s thanks to him I ended up like this. If you’re his friend, kill me now—or I’ll find him and take my revenge someday!”

The murderous intent in Kou Li’s eyes slowly faded, replaced by a slight smile. “How fortunate, I feel the same. I hope you survive.”

He turned to leave; after all, if he didn’t go soon, the beasts would soon be loose. Yet he paused a moment, then said, “If you live, and want revenge, come find me…”

………………

At the very top of the riverboat, dozens of Water Dragon Gang captains and quartermasters, including their own boxing masters, watched the young man before them in terror, an oppressive atmosphere weighing heavily around these fierce men—several were already drenched in sweat.

This was not a man to be reasoned with. Once, an underling had made a slight mistake with his orders, and was strung up at the door and whipped with salted lashes for three days straight. That underling was the favorite nephew of one of the elders.

The young man was handsome, dressed in a flowing blue robe, his appearance meticulously refined. Anywhere else, he would be the epitome of a worldly gentleman, not the infamous “Little Dragon Head” of the Water Dragon Gang—Wolf Prince.

Only his eyes betrayed him: cold, yellowish, protruding, ruining his handsome features and revealing his nature—ferocious, violent, like a young wolf newly come of age.

Those eyes—they were the eyes of a wolf.

“Are our guests settled in?”

“Yes, yes. No one’s come to harm, except Director Zhou from the Guangdong Silk Guild—he had a bone broken by the bandit, but he’s fine, nothing serious!”

Under the merciless gaze of Wolf Prince, the speaker trembled; he wanted nothing to do with the gang’s tortures.

“Director Zhou is an old friend. He’s spent nearly ten thousand taels on our gambling boat over the years. I heard he’s planning to mortgage his land soon. Our Water Dragon Gang isn’t the sort that extorts for profit—we’ll wipe those debts clean. Director Zhou appreciates our kindness and plans to help us make a bit of money…”

“That’s no small bit of money,” several captains muttered to themselves. Twenty years of maritime trade, big fish devour small, small fish devour shrimp. Merchant guilds, monopolistic organizations, have gradually risen, making it harder for outsiders to get a share.

The Water Dragon Gang were local tyrants, but even local tyrants had limits. The Silk Guild’s backing was no weaker than theirs, with ties to several major weaving bureaus in Jinling. Offending them could cut off most of the gang’s silk supplies, so Wolf Prince had always wanted a stake in the Silk Guild.

But others weren’t fools—the Water Dragon Gang’s greed was infamous, always excluded, unable to get their foot in the door. Now, given this rare opportunity, everyone pitied Captain Lin, who was responsible for security.

Demotion was certain; whether his wife and children could be spared was the real question.

Captain Lin finally couldn’t hold back—his knees buckled, and he fell, wailing, “Prince, please spare me! I, Lin Sanbiao, may not have died for the gang, but I’ve been chopped a dozen times for it. I have no great merit, but I’ve never made many mistakes. Please, Prince, spare me! I even served as the Old Dragon Head’s personal guard…”

“Uncle Sanbiao, don’t say such foolish things,” Wolf Prince suddenly smiled gently and helped him up. “This was unavoidable—who could have foreseen the infamous one-armed bandit would visit our Water Dragon Gang? Besides, you’re getting old. Go home and enjoy your retirement.”

“Thank you, thank you, Prince—”

Before he could finish, the doors burst open with a bang. The newcomer shouted in panic, “It’s terrible! Someone’s released all the slaves in the secret passage—they’re rampaging through the boat. Even Director Zhou was killed by the silver bear from East Pole Island!”

Wolf Prince’s grip tightened on Lin Sanbiao’s hand, his face expressionless. “And the honored guests?”

“Prince Huang has been taken hostage—the bandit is escaping!”

With a crunch, Lin Sanbiao’s arm was snapped, and his head was slammed to the floor, his shrieks muffled. At the same moment, Wolf Prince produced a two-foot silver needle, his face twisted in a snarl, and stabbed it directly into his own eye.

“Idiot, fool, damn you! One-armed bandit has already ruined our gambling boat’s reputation—now people are dead, we’ll lose everything. What use are you wastes to the gang? Uncle Sanbiao, Uncle Sanbiao—why couldn’t you be fierce when it mattered?”

He kept stabbing until Lin’s head was riddled like a honeycomb, his eyes punctured with a dozen holes, viscous fluid leaking onto the floor. Only then did Wolf Prince wipe his hands, grinning wickedly. “On my turf, someone dares to take my guests hostage? Good, good—bold and gutsy. Since when did Lingnan produce such a character?”

“Let’s go. Once we’ve killed this bastard, we’ll burn incense and offer sacrifices. Our Water Dragon Gang’s bad luck lately—we need a vengeful ghost to guard our door!”