Chapter Nineteen: Third Master Liu’s Revenge

Bang! Bang!

The two decrepit wooden doors instantly shattered into splinters as seven or eight burly men, each wielding a cleaver, burst into the courtyard. Two positioned themselves on either side of the entrance, two more stood vigilant in the yard, while the rest, without pause, charged toward the house and unhesitatingly swung their blades at the door.

With a cacophony of hacking and splintering, the thin wooden door was reduced to a pile of fragments. Yet, when the men rushed inside, all they found was a table strewn with leftovers—there was not a soul to be seen within.

“Someone tipped them off?” The tall man at the front frowned, his gaze sharp as he swept his eyes over the men behind him. He quickly reconsidered, for these were his trusted confidants who hadn’t left his side the entire way—it couldn’t have been one of them. “Go report to Third Master Liu. The kid’s gotten away!”

Both men at the courtyard gate nodded, about to leave when the tall man called them back, his brow furrowing as he added in a low voice, “Wait! Also tell the Third Master, there may be a traitor in the gang!”

“Understood!” they replied, swiftly turning to leave. But as they stepped outside the gate, they froze in confusion at the sight of a group surging into the alley. Leading them was the round-bodied Jin Sanpang, his whole mass of fat quivering as he cursed in his deep, muffled voice, “To hell with those Tang bastards! Daring to stir up trouble in the Foreigners’ Quarter—today, I’ll see them dead! Listen up: be ruthless, hit hard, and if anything happens, I’ll take the blame!”

“Don’t worry, Boss Jin! We’ll handle it!” The mercenaries Jin Sanpang had hired, fierce and brutish, were every bit as imposing as the men who’d just entered the courtyard. Each wielded a gleaming cleaver, their blades catching the light menacingly.

“Boss! We’ve walked right into an ambush! There’s definitely a traitor!” The two men who’d just exited the courtyard quickly retreated, shouting a warning to their companions inside. Their alarm caught the attention of Jin Sanpang’s crew, and as soon as sworn enemies locked eyes, especially Jin Sanpang himself, who saw more Tang men before him, he shouted, “Get them! Hack them to pieces—don’t let a single one off easy!”

The first group, who’d already entered the courtyard, now came charging out. Seeing their adversaries were foreigners, they were puzzled, but when the newcomers rushed at them with raised blades, they assumed it was an ambush after all. Hadn’t Third Master Liu mentioned before that Ding Li had friendly ties with some foreigners? Now, everything seemed to make sense.

“Fight your way out! Damn it all!” the tall leader growled, gripping his cleaver as he led the charge. In the narrow alley, the two gangs clashed ferociously, blades flashing as the struggle raged back and forth.

Ding Li’s figure appeared at the mouth of the alley, momentarily bewildered by the chaos before him. But upon spotting the massive, unmistakable form of Jin Sanpang lurking at the rear, he instantly understood—the fat man had waded in as well. With a snort of derision, Ding Li muttered, “Dogs biting dogs—a pack of mangy curs.”

Jin Sanpang had certainly spared no expense this time. Though his hired hands weren’t exactly desperadoes, they were capable fighters, and with both sides evenly matched, the men sent by Third Master Liu found themselves unable to break through the “ambush.” Three of them were already down, wounded.

“Go all out! If we hesitate, none of us will get out alive!” The tall leader, seeing things turn dire, realized the enemy’s intent was to kill. Gritting his teeth, he coldly ordered his men to fight to the death. With a burst of strength, he wielded his cleaver with such force that he drove back two opponents, slicing open the chest of another—standing like a lone hero holding the line against a hundred foes.

“Damn it! Chop them to pieces! Cripple one and I’ll pay five coins, kill one and it’s three! If anything happens, I’ll take the blame!” Jin Sanpang, seeing his side falter, steeled himself, calculating the cost even as he urged his mercenaries on with venomous threats.

“Fatty, who are you fighting with this time?” Suddenly, a hand clapped down on Jin Sanpang’s shoulder, an intense pain shooting through him. He doubled over involuntarily, turning an angry face to curse—only to see a familiar face. His mouth fell open in shock. “You, you…”

“We’ll settle last night’s account later. As for today, this is beyond you—those men are Liu’s from the Chaozhou Gang. Think carefully.” Ding Li released his grip, giving Jin Sanpang a couple of meaningful pats on the shoulder before striding off with a knowing smile.

Jin Sanpang stood frozen, unable to recover from the shock. He might have dared face Ding Li, but the man’s words had truly frightened him. Who was Third Master Liu? As someone who operated in both the underworld and the legitimate world, Jin Sanpang knew all too well. Never mind that Liu had the support of the Cao Merchants’ Guild behind him—even if only the Chaozhou Gang under Liu’s command made a move, his own little power base in the Foreigners’ Quarter wouldn’t amount to a hill of beans.

While Jin Sanpang was still reeling, Ding Li had already made up his mind—no intention of letting Liu’s men off easily. Since trouble had come to his door, there was no reason to keep hiding, especially with Liu Sheng no longer at his side. With nothing to hold him back, Ding Li was ready to unleash his full strength.

Jin Sanpang’s men were already in full retreat, and suddenly, a Chinese man none of them recognized appeared in their midst. They hesitated, uncertain, but the tall leader from the other side instantly recognized Ding Li, rage flaring in his eyes as he attacked with his cleaver.

The tall man was skilled, possessed of great strength—otherwise, Liu wouldn’t have sent him, nor could he have held the front alone for so long. But against Ding Li, he was outmatched by far. He barely managed to swing his blade before Ding Li struck like lightning, smashing his wrist and forcing him to drop the weapon. Before he could react, a blow to his abdomen sent him stumbling, his cleaver snatched up by Ding Li, who immediately swung it back.

Clang!

The tall man, terror-stricken, thought his life was forfeit, but a quick-witted henchman managed to block the blow. Even so, the broken blade left a bloody gash across his forehead, cold sweat pouring down his face.

Ding Li pressed the assault, wielding the cleaver with such dazzling speed it was more like a juggler’s performance than a fight. Jin Sanpang’s hired hands were left merely watching the spectacle. In moments, every one of Liu’s men—including the tall leader—was wounded, collapsing to the sides of the alley and staring at Ding Li in terror.

With a crisp clatter, Ding Li dropped the cleaver in front of the tall man, whose arms bore fresh cuts. Ding Li’s cold gaze swept over the fallen men as he said, “Go back and tell Third Master Liu: I was the one who dealt with Lai Wu. If he has any issues, he can come to me. But first, he’d better be sure he doesn’t want to end up like Lai Wu.”

Arrogant! Audacious! Everyone present, including Jin Sanpang and his foreign mercenaries, was struck with the same thought, their eyes filling with fear as they looked at Ding Li.

“You’re far too reckless, boy!” The tall man shifted slightly, grimacing at his wounds, but forced himself to retort, “You think Lai Wu’s on par with Third Master Liu? Lai Wu was barely Liu’s errand boy! Do you really believe you alone can take on Third Master Liu and the Chaozhou Gang?”

“Some things you never know until you try,” Ding Li replied with a faint smile, his words light but resolute. Without another glance, and unwilling to witness the other’s blind confidence, he turned and strode away.

None of the foreign mercenaries dared block Ding Li’s way. It wasn’t that they failed to react, but that his display had so thoroughly unnerved them—interfering would be like a mantis trying to stop a cart, a sure path to destruction.

“Fatty, when I have time, we’ll settle our scores properly.” As he passed Jin Sanpang, Ding Li flashed him a wicked grin; the gleam of his white teeth sent a shiver down Jin’s spine, making him stumble back a few steps, his eyes glued to Ding Li’s retreating figure until it vanished at the end of the alley—still watching, as if afraid Ding Li might turn back at any moment to settle the score.

Ding Li had placed Liu Sheng in an inconspicuous inn at the northwestern edge of the Foreigners’ Quarter. Though the conditions were sparse and rough, it was at least a safe haven for Liu Sheng and a temporary hideout for himself.

After nightfall, Ding Li left Liu Sheng at the inn and went out alone. He’d already gleaned some news about the previous night’s events at the docks from the innkeeper: the entire city of Guangzhou was in chaos. The military governor’s residence was heavily guarded, as was the inspector’s mansion, and the maritime customs office had cordoned off the port entirely—patrols everywhere, checkpoints every few steps. With the smuggling ship owner Liu Fu still missing, the authorities were under heavy pressure to root out the forces behind the smuggling operation.

Of course, Ding Li knew this was all for show. Even the common folk of Guangzhou knew that Liu Fu’s ship had unloaded at the Cao Merchants’ Guild’s dock—the power behind it was obvious to anyone, blind or not. The authorities were simply seizing the chance to suppress their rivals.

By contrast, the Foreigners’ Quarter had seen little change. The clash earlier that evening between Third Master Liu and Jin Sanpang had not caused much of a stir, but rumors from outside the quarter were rife: Lai Wu, the boss of the Xunzhou Gang, had been wiped out overnight, his fate unknown, his followers scattered—only a handful of core members had thrown their lot in with Third Master Liu’s Chaozhou Gang.

Gouzi, the Wang brothers, and the others had followed Ding Li’s advice and stayed away from the docks, hiding somewhere safe. Though Liu had sent men to look for them, their families were not troubled—only given a stern warning before the matter was dropped.

After wandering the streets for a while and seeing nothing amiss, Ding Li decided to visit Sayyid Gad’s house to gather news—whatever he heard from the man would be far more reliable than street gossip.

But as soon as Ding Li neared Sayyid Gad’s home, he sensed something was wrong: the gate was tightly shut, and small groups—more than ten in total—were clustered nearby. Such a concentration of Chinese in the Foreigners’ Quarter was highly unusual. The only explanation was that Sayyid Gad had been targeted, perhaps even already harmed.

At this thought, Ding Li quietly drew a short dagger from his belt and began to circle the area with utmost caution, his keen eyes scanning every suspicious face in the crowd.