Volume Three: The Xuanwu Gate Storm, Chapter Eighty-Eight: Someone Else Was Behind It

At that moment, the once-overbearing Sword of Death, Ma Boliang, no longer had the slightest trace of his former swagger.

He wanted to run, but his legs had been ruined; the moment he moved, agony shot through him to the bone. He wanted to crawl, but both arm joints had been dislocated, and he could exert no strength at all. He wanted to cry out, but his jaw had been knocked out of place; he could not even hope to bite his tongue and end his life.

Beside him lay the corpse of Laughing Buddha Tong Dekun, its head thrown back at a ghastly angle, its face frozen in the terror of its last instant, hollow eyes devoid of life. Coupled with the corpse’s natural ashen hue, it looked hideous and dreadful.

Ma Boliang shut his eyes and dared not look at him. Thinking of what the young man had said before leaving, a chill of desolation filled his heart.

Compared with that, perhaps Laughing Buddha had died the easier death. As for me, already in such a wretched state, who knows what more suffering lies ahead? I fear even hoping for a quick death is but a foolish dream.

While his thoughts wandered in panic, footsteps sounded. The young man, like a wrathful demon emerging from the deepest hell, returned carrying a dense and unwashed stench of blood.

Li Mingyu reached out and set Ma Boliang’s jaw back in place, then went straight to the point. “Ma Boliang, do you know what I am here to ask you?”

Now that he could speak again, Ma Boliang nodded furiously and begged at once, heedless of all else. “Young master! Spare my life! I was blinded by greed! I was a worthless dog with no boundaries! Please, show mercy and let this dog of mine live!” Even an ant clings to life; Ma Boliang had nowhere near had his fill of it and still clung to the hope of surviving. At this point, he cared only about staying alive. What dignity of a martial hero, what bearing of a wandering swordsman—let it all go to hell!

Seeing that Li Mingyu remained unmoved, Ma Boliang wept miserably, snot and tears running together as he continued to plead. “He who takes money from others must help them avert disaster. I was only the knife in someone else’s hand! I did as I was told; I had no choice! It was all my greed that led me to do what I should not have done. It was him! All those filthy ideas were Tong Dekun’s! Wuwu, wuwu, it was his idea to have me throw quicklime in your eyes... It truly had nothing to do with me...”

“Cut the crap. Tell me everything you know. Who ordered you to deal with me?” Li Mingyu felt nauseated at the sight of this cowardly, revolting display. It was a far cry from the heroic wanderers he had imagined. Damn it, and this spineless, death-fearing wretch still had the nerve to call himself a roaming swordsman?

“I’ll talk, I’ll talk! I’ll tell you everything! But you have to promise not to kill me...” Ma Boliang still wanted to bargain, but when he saw Li Mingyu’s brows lift and killing intent surface, he immediately lost the nerve to ramble. He could only pin his hope on the boy’s merciful restraint after hearing the truth.

At this moment, Ma Boliang was like a drowning man who spots a straw drifting by, and without hesitation clutches it tightly, placing all hope of survival upon it. At once, he told everything without daring to hide the slightest detail.

Li Mingyu listened intently, asking again and again whenever anything remained unclear, until it was confirmed.

Yet the more he heard, the more confused he became. He had originally thought Ma Boliang, Tong Dekun, and the others had merely been sent by Dugujie, Houmochen Hui, and the like—that they were in league with the men from the Fierce Tiger Gang.

After all, Gao Shenxing, the fifth son of the Gao family, had already sent him word before: Dugujie had hired many desperate men from the underworld with a fortune in silver to take his head. If not them, who else could it be?

But from the interrogation, it became clear that these wandering swordsmen and the men of the Fierce Tiger Gang were not familiar with one another at all. At most they had heard of each other’s names; they had never crossed paths. This was the first time the two sides had worked together. Ma Boliang and the others had only been told to deliver him here and wait to collect the payment.

According to Ma Boliang, as well-known enforcers among the wandering fighters of the capital, they had also done plenty of shady and filthy work for wealthy patrons over the years. But how noble were those great clans and aristocratic houses? How could they ever lower themselves to mix with rough-and-ready nobodies like them? Any contact was arranged through a professional middleman.

Because this time the target’s identity was far too sensitive, the client did not feel at ease and stayed hidden behind a screen to negotiate in person.

Ma Boliang and the others also knew the target was no easy mark. He had once single-handedly flattened dozens of elite retainers from a noble house, and he had the backing of the Prince of Qin’s residence. His background was formidable; he was too hot to handle. Even at the high price of three hundred strings of cash, they had not wanted to get involved.

But that client was truly flush with money and directly doubled the offer.

As the saying went, men die for wealth and birds die for food. There were not many in the world who would find money burdensome. Blinded by profit, Ma Boliang and the others discussed it and decided to grit their teeth and do this one last job, collect the bounty, and then retire for good. Afterward they would vanish far away, change their names, and never set foot in the capital again.

In their line of work, the rule was to take money from others and help them avert disaster. Asking after the client’s identity was a grave taboo, for fear that if they were captured after a failed job, they might expose the client.

The only thing they knew was that the client truly possessed remarkable means; even as the whole city was under lockdown and the searches were in full force, he could still send word through someone, instructing them to lie low here for the time being and not reveal themselves.

Hearing this, Li Mingyu frowned deeply. He had already ruled out the possibility of Dugujie and the others, but if not them, then who?

From Li Mingyu’s analysis, Dugujie and the rest were nothing more than spoiled dandies, empty-headed heirs born to privilege. Given their standing within their clan, it might still be possible for them to buy a few ruffians and hoodlums, but they likely lacked the clout to command the Fierce Tiger Gang, the most powerful force in the western city.

Could it have been Duguwudu himself making a move? Against a junior like me? Impossible, surely. Whatever else, he was a big figure with a name in the capital. If he stooped to deal with me and word got out, would he still have any face left?

Besides, judging by what had happened with his master before, given Duguwudu’s temperament, he was more likely to come to my door and beat me senseless. Or perhaps pressure the Prince of Qin into dealing with me by force of influence.

Even if he were foolish, he was still a scion of a century-old noble house. He could not possibly do something so brazen and brainless as abducting someone in broad daylight! That would be tantamount to openly challenging the prestige of the Prince of Qin’s residence!

The more he thought, the more vexed he became. The matter grew ever more complicated.

Li Mingyu asked impatiently, “Who is the middleman? Where does he live?”

Ma Boliang answered obediently, “He is called Qiao San. He runs a smithy in the West Market called the Qiao Family Old Shop. On the surface he is a well-known local gentryman of the capital, but in truth he is the broker who links us together.”

“Qiao San, the Qiao Family Old Shop.” Li Mingyu silently took note of the name. Every debt would be settled one by one. Since you dare take a job to sell my life, then don’t blame this young master for being impolite.

It seemed that if he wanted to uncover the truth and find the real mastermind behind it all, he would have to proceed from both ends.

On one side was the middleman, Qiao San. On the other was the Fierce Tiger Gang’s Duan Hu. Though the two groups were not under the same command, they had colluded and worked together. In terms of status, Duan Hu ought to know more of the details.

Having made up his mind, Li Mingyu gave Ma Boliang a cold glance and asked, “Well then, since all the questions are answered, tell me—how do you want to die?”

“What?” Ma Boliang was struck dumb with terror.

Before he could beg for mercy again, Li Mingyu had already drawn his blade. A flash of cold light, a swift stroke—one head fell cleanly away.

“Pah! You tried to scheme against this young master and still wanted to live? For all the wicked things you have done in your life, a single slash is already letting you off easy!”

Li Mingyu spat at the headless corpse, wiped the blade against the man’s collar to clean away the blood, then turned and left the room.