Chapter Twenty-one: The Red Pill

The reason Kou Li ended up on this pleasure boat was truly a matter of fate and coincidence. He had originally intended to return to the martial academy by sea, but every coastal wharf and port showed signs of inspection by the Water Dragon Gang.

No matter how advanced his martial arts, if he were discovered at sea, the outcome would be the same: he'd be crushed and broken. The land route proved equally perilous. The Water Dragon Gang had set up spies at every major checkpoint, city gate, and post station. Though his enhanced hearing and vision allowed him to avoid most dangers, there were still places he simply had to pass through.

He needed to eat, he needed to sleep, and as soon as he entered a city, he would have to present travel papers and be scrutinized—inevitably exposing himself. As Kou Li wrestled with the dilemma of whether he should travel through wilderness for months to circle back to Guanchao, a gambling boat flying the Water Dragon Gang's flag appeared.

Through others' gossip, he learned the origin of the Beast Banquet. Inspiration struck: wasn't this the perfect hiding spot? If he could slip aboard the Water Dragon Gang's ship, no one would bother searching for enemies among their own. The boat's destination was the far north of Guanchao; once disembarked, he could circle behind the martial academy and bypass the gang's surveillance—a double gain.

The challenge, however, was blending in, for there might well be gang members aboard who recognized him. Luckily, at a crucial moment, Zheng Bao’er came to mind. He remembered the time she had been sprayed by a squid and looked like a foreign child. With his skin stained dark and his appearance unwashed for a month, he managed to slip aboard. He planned to keep a low profile and leave as soon as the boat docked, but fate had other plans, and he found himself caught up in a new predicament.

The Beast Banquet had begun two hours earlier. Judging by the sounds from below deck, every two sticks of incense, a new brawl erupted. The number of martial artists capable of fighting was rare, and yet the Water Dragon Gang was willing to use them to entertain the audience—no wonder the gambling boat's business was so lucrative.

Most of these martial artists forced into the arena probably weren't volunteers. Lost in thought, Kou Li and nine others were led to a guarded underground passage. With the clanking of iron chains, a massive iron plate was hoisted, releasing a torrent of roars and bellows that surged out.

Even the chief grew tense; as for the others, terror had them trembling, yellow liquid trickling down their trousers.

Kou Li narrowed his eyes. These ferocious, violent figures had deep grudges against the Water Dragon Gang. If released, they might cause no small trouble for the gang.

"Move!" barked a voice.

The passage below was dark and damp, flanked by iron cells. The bars were solid iron, as thick as a forearm. Martial masters were still human—not gods. Luo Yanzong had once demonstrated the limits of fighting techniques. Though impressive, they had not reached the level of splitting iron with bare hands.

Then, Kou Li and the others were each assigned a wooden bucket, a brush, several dry towels, and a set of flashy battle robes.

"Everyone, take a cell. Wash the inmates, change their clothes. They've been fed sleeping draught—so long as you're careful, nothing will happen," the guard explained.

"If it usually doesn't happen, that means it certainly will," Kou Li thought, inwardly mocking. If nothing happened, why