Chapter 7: Killing the Thieves

Great Hero Kong Fang possessed peerless martial arts and a sense of pride that outweighed the heavens. Upon hearing that the silver had arrived, everyone on both sides ceased their fighting. The burly man laughed, "Third Brother, Big Brother was just joking with you just now, don't take it to heart. How about this: your share of the silver goes to me, and you get to keep the little sister-in-law for a while to play with. Are you willing?"

Ma Laosan quickly laughed in response, "Big Brother, what are you saying? We are brothers; how could I touch your woman? However, since you've taken a new concubine, perhaps you should just take a smaller share of this silver. Consider it a wedding feast, inviting us brothers to a bowl of celebratory wine each."

Outside, dozens of burly men carried more than a dozen chests inside. These were no ordinary small wooden boxes, but large wardrobe-style chests used by wealthy families to store clothing. Seeing this, the leading burly man frowned. "Only five thousand taels of silver, and yet you use so many large chests?"

The middle-aged man leading the group kowtowed. "To answer the Honorable Imperial Guard, it was truly too difficult to scrape together five thousand taels of silver, so we had to find some silk and satin to make up the difference. To ensure you gentlemen wouldn't be displeased, we prepared extra silk and fabric. If calculated at market price, it would be worth over six thousand taels. These things are not like silver; one is precious, and the other takes up space, which is why we have so many chests."

In this era, silk and satin could serve directly as a general medium of exchange, used to purchase goods directly. Hearing there was silk and satin, the burly man's anger subsided. "Just in time. I can tear some satin to make a few new clothes for the family. Besides, that slut Ru Xian is quite a handful; I can't let her go to waste. Pick out some good satin and make her a few outfits, then she'll settle down and live with me peacefully."

At the thought of this, he exerted his Iron Arm Technique, pushing his companions to the left and right to take the lead. "There are many tricks involved with silk and satin. You people love to play games with them—substituting inferior goods, or even using rags and hemp to pass off as silk. I must inspect them personally to avoid being cheated."

When he reached the bottom of the stairs and saw the dozen large chests placed on the ground, his heart raced with excitement. He had heard of such vast amounts of silver, but he had never even seen it. The thought that this money was about to belong to him made his palms sweat profusely; he wiped them on his trousers several times, but they remained unclean. Seeing locks hanging on the chests, he reached behind him to grab a single-edged saber and shouted, "Open!"

Sparks flew.

The lock was split open, and a notch was chipped out of the saber. But at a moment like this, he couldn't care less about the blade. He tossed the iron saber aside, grabbed the lid of the chest with both hands, and violently flipped it upward, praying to see white silver and crimson silk.

As the lid opened, a white light flashed...

What dazzled the eyes was not white silver, but the piercing glint of a blade.

A person had long been lying inside the chest.

The moment the lid was flipped, his left hand pressed the hilt to lift it slightly, while his right hand curled around the grip to emerge. His opening move was a horizontal slash, as sudden and violent as a storm turning into a dragon, swallowing the light. The Spring Willow Leaf saber in his hand, modeled after a wild goose feather saber, traced a circular arc, striking straight for the burly man's throat.

The man had also practiced martial arts with great effort, possessing formidable Shaolin skills. Seeing the strike coming, he hurriedly dropped his waist into a horse stance, leaning his body back as far as possible. He felt a chill slide past his neck. "An ambush!" He intended to shout for his subordinates to grab their weapons, but his mouth opened several times without a sound coming out.

He felt a growing pain where the chill had passed. He reached up to touch it, only to find his hand covered in something cold and sticky—it was blood.

He had clearly dodged; how was he injured? Carrying this confusion, he reached out again, but this time there was even more blood. Before he could reach a third time, his consciousness began to blur. His limbs refused to obey his commands, and his tower-like body collapsed to the ground like a mountain of gold toppling over.

It happened in the blink of an eye. From the assassin's sudden strike to the man's death, only a moment had passed. Before the others could even comprehend what had happened, their leader had already been cut down. There was no silver in the chest at all, but a handsome and dashing young man. Holding a narrow-bladed single saber, he had leapt out like Zhao Zilong riding alone to save his lord, or like Ma Mengqi fighting at Tong Pass, leaving the bandits staring in stunned silence.

Yang Chengzu's plan was derived from a scenario in the game *Age of Empires* he had played years ago. The Mongols used such methods to assassinate the Emperor of the Persian Empire, leaving them leaderless so they could seize the opportunity to strike.

In the game, the suicide squads tasked with such missions were often torn to pieces by chaotic blades after their single successful strike. However, his current situation was incomparable to the game. After the first strike, the bandits were at a loss for what to do. He seized the opportunity to shout, "Catch the robbers! Save the County Magistrate!" With that, he charged toward the stairs.

This Xiangman Pavilion was a two-story building, and the Magistrate and others were being held on the upper floor. Having seen the "silver," none of these men remained upstairs to watch the hostages, fearing that if they went down too late, they would miss their share of the wealth. The leading burly man had gone to the chests to inspect them, and the others had followed closely. Among the dozen or so men, six or seven had gone downstairs, while the rest crowded the last few steps of the stairs.

This was Yang Chengzu's first formal combat. To say he wasn't nervous would be a lie, but his breathing and footsteps remained at a steady threshold. Seeing that the opponents had already reacted after his leap, he no longer charged blindly. Instead, he reversed his grip on the Spring Willow Leaf saber and stepped forward to meet the tide of men approaching from all directions.

Despite being outnumbered, Yang Chengzu's mind was crystal clear. There was not a hint of panic in his heart; instead, he softly began to chant the rhythmic patterns of percussion.

The percussion rhythms from the opera stage were basic skills he had practiced since childhood in his previous life; they had become a part of his body. As long as the rhythm did not falter, his footsteps would not falter. Relaxed and calm, he thought: life is like a play, and a play is like life. In today's Xiangman Pavilion, Yang Chengzu was the protagonist; everyone else was merely an extra.

As he thought this, he moved forward slowly, softly humming, "The Great Ancestor ascended the throne in Xianyang, unifying the mountains and rivers to bring joy like Tang Yao..."

Seeing him approach so unhurriedly, though he was alone, it felt as if a thousand troops and ten thousand horses were approaching. This actually caused the men's breathing to become erratic and their spirits to waver. Especially since he had just slain their leader, how could the others not fear him? Someone couldn't help but shout, "All together! Kill him!"

If all a dozen or so men attacked at once, Yang Chengzu would not have three heads or six arms; he would be unable to resist. However, they were all stunned by the scene before them. No one organized a response; they didn't know how to deal with him. Some wanted to draw their blades to fight, some wanted to turn and run, and some even wanted to seize hostages. The entire group was a chaotic mess. By the time the man shouted, Yang Chengzu had already walked into the midst of their ranks.

The crowd was in chaos, but he was not.

"Now a treacherous Cao Cao has emerged, bullying the Emperor and oppressing the officials." A melodious singing voice sounded exceptionally eerie in this place and time.

An iron saber swung down toward his head. Yang Chengzu tilted his body slightly to dodge the blade. Before the hair tossed up by the strike could fall, it rose again because his body surged forward like a fish through a crack. His ear-hammer grazed the man's upper arm, his body pressing close to the man's side. The Spring Willow Leaf saber in his hand swept upward from beneath the man's chest. He couldn't see the blade because his vision was blocked by the man's arm, but he knew his blade had lightly grazed the opponent's throat. He retracted it, still holding it in a reverse grip.

His Spring Willow Leaf saber was a short weapon and relatively light. Because the Jinyiwei handled cases in narrow alleys and corridors, long weapons and heavy weapons were difficult to use; this type of weapon was the most practical. And fighting in a crowd like this was exactly the occasion for which the Spring Willow Leaf saber was suited.

The iron sabers in the hands of those men were heavier than his, but they required more space to swing. In close-quarters combat, they were not as effective as the Spring Willow Leaf saber.

More importantly, their strikes were slow, and their footwork was sluggish.

The Spring Willow Leaf saber was as fast as a hundred flowers blooming; the iron sabers were as slow as withered trees and stagnant soil.

The man who was struck held his throat, his face full of indignation, before slowly collapsing to the ground. Almost simultaneously, another blade swung toward Yang Chengzu's head. Having no time to dodge, he lunged forward, striking the face of the incoming blade with his left fist. The two forces met and neutralized each other; the iron saber was knocked off course, only grazing his shoulder but missing his head.

His shoulder ached, but it was merely a sting; his iron armor had functioned well, preventing the saber from penetrating. Taking advantage of the opponent's momentary stun, the Spring Willow Leaf saber swept upward in a semi-circle, striking the man's arm that held the weapon. The blade easily sliced through the man's clothing, then skin, then tendons, and finally bone, cutting through it as effortlessly as a sharp knife through butter. As he slashed upward, blood sprayed, and half an arm, along with the steel blade, fell to the ground. The man rolled on the ground clutching his stump with his left hand, while Yang Chengzu had already leaped up, jumped over him, and reached the stairs.

Following the blade of the Spring Willow Leaf saber, droplets of blood rolled down.

"I intend to sweep away the thieves for my Lord, but I lack the blade to kill!"

This long, melodic note would have surely been a showstopper on a stage in his previous life.

After taking down two in a row, he suddenly ducked. A blade swinging from behind missed him, but he couldn't retract his weapon in time, and it struck a pillar with a resonant *thrum*. Yang Chengzu did not turn around; he simply thrust backward with a counter-strike. Judging by the sound, he had wounded someone. He withdrew his blade and moved swiftly, the blade's light trailing blood droplets in a circular arc through the air, severing the wrist of a thief blocking his path.

He did not chase the fleeing ones; he simply gave a strike to anyone who blocked his way.

The so-called "drawing a sword to cut water only makes the water flow more" was not just a poem, but a realm of swordsmanship. When the blade passes through water, there is no resistance beneath, and the water flows naturally.

Thus, when the blade passed through people, there was likewise no resistance.

Yang Chengzu stepped up the stairs. Two whistling iron sabers came from the sides in a flanking maneuver, their blades crossing in an 'X' shape.

Was there no way forward?

*Clang!*

The Spring Willow Leaf saber rose in a reverse grip, following the momentum of his arm. He released it into the air; Yang Chengzu's right foot stomped on the left man's knee, while his left hand grabbed the right man's wrist. With a lateral kick and a backward pull, his right hand met the descending Spring Willow Leaf saber in mid-air. His five fingers closed around the grip, and the blade, thin as a cicada's wing, wrapped around the left man's head like a supple silk thread. One rotation, the blade returned, blood sprayed, and the head fell.

An arm-slash.

The Spring Willow Leaf saber pressed against his forearm, slicing into another man's neck. The man, whose knee had been crushed, tumbled to the ground instantly.

...

Yang Chengzu moved upward like a soaring hawk. He grabbed the last person at the top of the stairs with one hand, and as the Spring Willow Leaf saber slid from the man's brow past the back of his head, he retracted the blade, killing the final man.

"Do not be alarmed, Magistrate. Yang Chengzu, a Hundred-man Commander of the Huaxian Jinyiwei, is here to assist you in catching the thieves. Let us see if anyone can harm you a single hair today!"