Chapter 112: A Dark and Stormy Night
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Chapter 112: On a Dark and Windy Night
Just as Zheng Jian was stepping out of the tavern, he heard the words and paused.
“Useless Aji?”
Zheng Jian studied the man closely. He looked utterly destitute and downcast.
“So this is the famous Third Young Master…” Zheng Jian sighed inwardly. Thanks to his knowledge of the story, he naturally knew that this wretched man was Xie Xiaofeng, who had faked his own death.
The man had grown weary of the pressure brought by the name “Third Young Master of the Xie Family,” so he had simply faked his death and fled. He was determined never to fight anyone again, and had consequently become the useless Aji.
Judging by appearances, he had only recently arrived at Han Family Tower. He was probably working as a brothel attendant by now.
Xue Keren, of course, had no idea that the down-and-out man before her was Xie Xiaofeng. She filled his cup to the brim.
Aji accepted it. As though sensing something, he glanced at Zheng Jian, then quickly lowered his head and turned to leave.
Zheng Jian naturally caught his gaze.
“He noticed my eyes after all. As expected of Xie Xiaofeng.”
Still, Zheng Jian did not expose him. The time was not yet right. Xie Xiaofeng had no fighting spirit whatsoever; even if Zheng Jian challenged him, he would never accept.
“Boss, do you know that man?” Xue Keren asked curiously as she watched Zheng Jian stare after Aji.
After these past few days, she had finally become able to face Zheng Jian naturally.
“Something like that,” Zheng Jian replied ambiguously.
…
At Han Family Tower, the useless Aji continued helping the girls with this and that, never once voicing a complaint.
Under the lamplight, however, the Big Boss was examining a note Green Bamboo Serpent had given him. Nine names were written upon it.
Whitewood. A disciple of Wudang, expelled from the sect yet still wearing Taoist robes and carrying a sword. Six feet eight inches tall, yellow-faced and thin, with a mole at the corner of his brow.
Earth Monk. Of Shaolin origin, dressed as a wandering ascetic. Eight feet tall, skilled in the Arhat Fist of Subduing Tigers, and born with supernatural strength.
Black Devil. A wandering swordsman from the western pass, skilled with a saber and fond of killing. Six feet tall, always dressed in black. His saber could also be used as a belt.
Sasaki. From Eastern Man Island, a ronin of the Kyushu Kingdom. Wielded a six-foot Japanese sword and was cruel and murderous.
Ejima. Sasaki’s younger brother, skilled in lightness techniques and concealed weapons. He was an heir to the Iga tradition of the Fusang ninjas.
Ding Erlang. Once the heir of a prominent family in the Central Plains, he had squandered his entire fortune and taken to wandering the martial world. He loved wine and women and wielded a sword.
Green Snake. Cunning and quick-witted, adept at adapting to changing circumstances. Six feet three inches tall.
Old Chai. The eldest of them all, with a bushy beard. He loved wine and was often drunk. He had been an assassin in his youth and had taken countless lives, but in recent years his fondness for drink frequently caused him to fail.
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Axehead. A nine-foot-tall giant who wielded a great axe. Rough, powerful, and possessed of a temperament as fierce as fire.
The Big Boss looked at the nine names and smiled faintly.
“They can deal with Zheng Jian?”
Green Bamboo Serpent answered respectfully, “They have killed many people and know countless ways to take a life. More importantly, they are willing to use any method whatsoever.”
The Big Boss nodded.
“Send men to collect them. Once they arrive, lead them to the tavern. I do not care about the process. I want only the result.”
Green Bamboo Serpent accepted the order and withdrew.
“Iron Tiger,” the Big Boss suddenly called.
Iron Tiger emerged from the shadows.
“Boss.”
“Do you think they can kill Zheng Jian?” the Big Boss asked with a smile.
“They cannot.”
“What if you follow close behind them?” the Big Boss asked. That was his true plan. He had never trusted those nine men. Iron Tiger was the one he truly relied upon.
“If those nine distract him and throw their lives away first, then I strike afterward. I would have an eighty percent chance of success,” Iron Tiger replied solemnly. He never exaggerated his strength. When he said eighty percent, he meant eighty percent.
“Good. Then proceed without worry. Iron Hand will also be placed under your command. I want only one result. Do you understand?”
The Big Boss spoke calmly, but how could he possibly swallow this grievance? All his patience had merely been spent waiting for the perfect opportunity to land a single decisive blow.
Iron Tiger clasped his fists and left the room.
…
The following night, a group of people slipped into the small town from every direction.
The nine members of the Black Slaughter took advantage of the darkness to enter the town. They were hardly honorable men. They valued efficiency in killing and were willing to employ any means necessary to achieve their aims.
Before long, they had silently surrounded the tavern. All of them wore black night-traveling clothes, and their figures varied greatly.
Ejima and Sasaki carried a sinister killing aura. The two exchanged a glance and whispered, “The girls are very, very beautiful…”
Whitewood, the leader, swept them a cold glance and sent his voice directly into their ears.
“Finish the job first. Once it is done, our patron will give you whatever you want. But not now. If you ruin everything, I will not forgive you.”
Ejima and Sasaki shuddered. They knew all too well how frightening Whitewood was, and immediately fell silent.
On a distant rooftop, Iron Tiger watched with Iron Hand.
“A bunch of ignorant fools who do not know when they are about to die. Let them throw their lives away.”
Iron Tiger wished Zheng Jian would kill every one of them. In his eyes, they were genuine scum, and their deaths would be well deserved.
The thought that he, Thunder-Shaking Tiger Lei Zhenhu of the Wind, Cloud, Thunder, and Tiger, had to cooperate with such people made him deeply uncomfortable.
…
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Once Whitewood had subdued the two brothers from the Fusang islands, he sent his voice to the others.
“Move!”
The group crept toward the tavern. Ejima and Sasaki, in particular, could hardly wait. Once the deed was done, they intended to indulge themselves thoroughly.
The two reached the door of a room. Their noses twitched, and the faint fragrance of a woman drifted out.
This was Xue Keren’s room.
“Beautiful girl!”
The two were overjoyed. They had completely forgotten their mission and immediately prepared to slip inside.
Suddenly, a streak of blue light flashed before their eyes. Sasaki felt a sharp pain in his neck, and darkness descended over his vision.
Zheng Jian stood before Ejima, his face filled with murderous intent.
He had detected the intruders long ago. He had originally intended to observe them a little longer, but when he realized that the two men were trying to harm Xue Keren, he immediately killed one of them.
Ejima was horrified.
“You… block me… girl… seeking death!”
He rolled across the ground and, with a backhanded motion, launched three iron caltrops shaped like black stars. They were concealed shuriken from the Iga school of ninjutsu.
Zheng Jian’s expression turned cold at his words.
“Fusang men!”
With a casual sweep of the Tear-Marked Sword, he knocked all three shuriken to the ground.
“You dare trespass upon the land of China? You deserve to die!”
At that moment, the sound of something tearing through the air rang out. Seven figures appeared around Zheng Jian. Including Ejima, eight men surrounded him completely.
Whitewood, standing at the head of the group, sneered viciously.
“You came out to offer yourself up. That saves us the trouble of searching for you. Zheng Jian, you may speak your last words…”
When Zheng Jian saw all manner of monsters and demons emerge, he became even less anxious.
“Go ahead. I’m listening.”
Whitewood froze, then realized what Zheng Jian meant. Was he asking Whitewood to speak his last words?
Resentment from Whitewood: +666.
“Looking for death!”
Whitewood roared and waved his hand. The remaining eight members of the Black Slaughter attacked Zheng Jian in unison. Some wielded sabers, some swords, some fists, while another carried a great axe on his shoulder.
Zheng Jian remained utterly calm. He even had enough leisure to adjust his hairstyle.
Brilliant azure sword light illuminated the night sky. Within that tiny space, Zheng Jian moved with the sword, unleashing his Myriad Transformations movement technique. Like a fish gliding through water, he slipped effortlessly through the eight-man assault, graceful and composed, as though strolling through a leisurely courtyard.
…
There will be another update tonight.
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