Chapter 29: The Three Heroes of Duanzhou

“Impudence!”

Suddenly, a thunderous shout exploded beside Xu Hong’s ear. Instinctively, he glanced sideways, only to see a blur before his eyes. His swinging arm jerked to a halt as if it had struck a steel rod. Though it wasn’t particularly painful, he could not move his arm another inch.

With a deep thud, Ding Li, who had seized Xu Hong’s arm, spun his body and delivered a sideways kick to the chest of a member of the Duanzhou Gang who had tried to ambush Saiyijade. Ding Li’s wrist twisted with practiced ease, forcing Xu Hong to contort his own body to follow, pain shooting through him. In the next instant, his feet left the ground—Ding Li hurled him away with a single hand.

Xu Hong staggered backward four or five meters before barely managing to regain his footing. Just as he looked up, his vision blurred once more. Instinctively, he gripped the iron rod in both hands and held it across his chest, drawing a deep breath and bracing himself.

He watched as his own fist was about to slam into Ding Li’s chest, but at the very moment he raised his rod in defense, Ding Li abruptly withdrew his fist. With a swift pivot, Ding Li’s foot swept upward, landing squarely on Xu Hong’s shoulder.

There was no pause. Supporting himself with one hand on the ground, Ding Li’s steel-muscled arm tensed with explosive power. In a flash, he flipped into the air again, utterly unconcerned by the two adversaries who rushed at him. Both fists shot out like hammers as their weapons came down, striking them hard in the chest. The two men stumbled back, reeling with pain. Then, bent double, they spat mouthfuls of blood onto the ground.

“Wang Ling! Jia Jie!” The brief clash left Xu Hong rattled. Knowing he was no match for Ding Li, he cried out to his companions, then swung his iron rod at Ding Li again, shouting, “This guy’s tough! All together, now!”

“We’re coming, Brother Hong!” Wang Ling and Jia Jie, both burly and strong, though a shade less imposing than Xu Hong, were even sturdier than Ding Li. Hearing the call, they quickly broke away from their scuffle with the Nanhai Gang and rushed to assist.

“We’re in a hurry—come all at once!” Ding Li showed not a trace of fear, his voice cold as iron. Yet he did not meet Xu Hong head-on; instead, he darted aside, chopping the side of a man’s neck with a swift hand strike. Seizing the limp man’s wooden club, Ding Li yanked him by the shoulder and, without so much as a backward glance, flung him toward Xu Hong.

“Hey!” Xu Hong, chasing after Ding Li, had just swung his iron rod when he suddenly saw his own comrade flying toward him. Startled, he yanked his weapon back and dodged aside.

Ding Li followed behind the falling man like a shadow, giving Xu Hong no time to react. In a split second, the wooden club in his hand struck Xu Hong’s left ribs. Fortunately, Xu Hong managed to lower his arm in time to absorb some of the blow, sparing his ribs from serious injury.

“Brother Hong, look out!” Jia Jie, arriving first, leaped forward with momentum, gripping his iron rod in both hands. With a piercing whoosh, he brought it down at Ding Li, who had just landed a blow.

“Hmph!” Ding Li caught the motion in the corner of his eye and sneered. He raised the wooden club with both hands, meeting the attack head-on.

A heavy clang rang out as Ding Li’s club was knocked from his grasp. Jia Jie, still airborne, felt a flash of excitement—but it vanished instantly, replaced by terror as Ding Li’s face twisted into a strange smile.

Freed of his weapon, Ding Li lunged forward, ramming his head into Jia Jie’s abdomen and breaking the man’s momentum. In the same motion, Ding Li’s arms wrapped around Jia Jie’s waist. Harnessing the force of his charge, he sprang into the air, curling himself up against Jia Jie, and the two of them crashed to the ground with a tremendous thud.

Jia Jie felt as if his body had been torn apart. His iron rod slipped from his grasp as he writhed in agony, a guttural moan escaping his lips. His face twisted in torment, features contorting as if they might merge together.

But Ding Li wasn’t finished. Shielded by Jia Jie’s body and having prepared himself, he emerged nearly unscathed. With a swift roll, he sprang up, seized the groaning Jia Jie with both hands, and, with a roar, hoisted him overhead.

“Old Jia!” Wang Ling, rushing to the scene, felt a jolt of alarm. The whole sequence had played out before his eyes, and he knew Jia Jie would not walk away unscathed; that brutal impact likely broke a bone or two.

“Get lost!” Wang Ling’s shout drew Ding Li’s attention. With a twist of his waist and a burst of strength, Ding Li hurled Jia Jie like a human battering ram. Then, moving as swiftly as a startled hare, he bounded after Wang Ling, who had just joined the fray.

“Huh?” Wang Ling, startled and concerned for his comrade, nearly reached out to catch him—but seeing Ding Li close in, he dared not approach. All he could do was watch Jia Jie hit the ground and retreat quickly to avoid Ding Li’s imminent attack.

“Trying to run? Ha!” Ding Li instantly saw through Wang Ling’s intentions. In mid-step, he flipped sideways. As his feet touched down, his right arm shot forward—a flash of cold steel gleamed. Wang Ling, no novice himself, managed to swing his iron rod just in time, knocking the glinting object to the ground.

A finely crafted dagger landed at his feet. Wang Ling was shaken to the core. His defense had been pure luck—he hadn’t seen Ding Li draw the blade, nor had he any idea where Ding Li had hidden it.

Before he could recover, a heavy force slammed into his chest, sending him flying backward. Strangely, Wang Ling’s mind grew clear in that moment—or perhaps he simply gave up all hope of resistance. He understood now that they stood no chance against Ding Li; any struggle was nothing more than a futile death-throe.

“Die!” Xu Hong seized the instant Ding Li landed, attacking from the side. But Saiyijade, waiting for his opportunity, struck from behind like a mantis stalking its prey. The club landed on the back of Xu Hong’s head, and a wave of dizziness overcame him. He never managed to swing his iron rod, his eyes filled with bitterness as they dulled and lost their light. After a few staggering steps, he collapsed to the ground.

“That’s what you get! Courting death!” Saiyijade, still unsatisfied, stepped forward to vent his anger on Xu Hong’s prone form, swinging his iron rod down again and again. The surrounding Nanhai Gang members, eager not to be left behind, surged forward as well, as if intent on beating Xu Hong to death then and there.

“Enough! Stop!” Ding Li’s stern voice cut through the chaos. With a sharp glance toward Saiyijade, he commanded, “We’re not here to kill anyone—just to reclaim our dignity! Don’t go too far; it’s not yet a fight to the death!”

Xu Hong, the Duanzhou Gang’s leader, had fainted; Jia Jie could only groan in pain on the ground, and even Wang Ling stood with a look of utter defeat. The rest, cowed by the weapons and threats of the Nanhai Gang, hung their heads and shuffled behind Wang Ling, their expressions a mix of unwillingness and fear as they stared at Ding Li and his men.

“Go now! This ends here. Don’t come looking for trouble again!” The fight had begun over competition for dock labor, and Ding Li had no wish to drive his opponents to ruin. He himself had once been a laborer on these docks and understood all too well how hard the work was—especially for outsiders, many of whom relied on this meager income to support their families.

“Brother Li, you’re just going to let them go? Isn’t that too easy on them?” Saiyijade protested at once. In his view, the Nanhai Gang needed to assert its strength. According to the unspoken rules of the docks, the Duanzhou Gang ought to be punished severely—if not killed outright, at least left crippled. He could not accept Ding Li letting them off so lightly.

“I said let them go!” Ding Li frowned, his voice suddenly icy as he repeated himself. He turned to Saiyijade and asked, “Do you have a problem with that?”

“I—I don’t, Brother Li!” Saiyijade stiffened, but as he met Ding Li’s frostbitten gaze, the fight drained out of him. He hung his head in deflated resignation and waved at the subordinates surrounding Wang Ling and the others. “What are you all standing around for? Didn’t you hear Brother Li? Let them go! Move!”

Everyone hesitated, glancing at each other in confusion before slowly backing away. Though reluctant, none dared defy Ding Li—their true leader—and his display of strength had won their respect, even if they did not understand his decision.

“Thank you, Brother Li! You have my respect!” Wang Ling, surprised by Ding Li’s mercy, recovered quickly, afraid Ding Li might change his mind at any moment. He signaled his men to carry away Xu Hong and Jia Jie and bowed deeply to Ding Li. “On behalf of my brothers, I thank you and the Nanhai Gang! We won’t set foot on these docks again!”

“No need for thanks,” Ding Li replied, nodding as he watched Wang Ling’s men struggle to lift their wounded. After a moment’s thought, he added, “We’re all just trying to make a living—it’s not easy. There’s no need for you to leave the docks. As long as you behave, I give you my word: no one from the Nanhai Gang will deliberately cause trouble. The Zhang Trading Company is an honest business; we don’t bully the weak.”

Wang Ling was taken aback. He knew the dock’s unspoken rules very well. He had only offered to withdraw to save face, but Ding Li’s words left him uncertain, unsure if Ding Li was truly sincere. He stood rooted to the spot, not knowing what to do.

“Don’t overthink it,” Ding Li said with a faint smile, as if reading his mind. “Face isn’t as important as a full belly. You’ve got plenty of brothers who feed their families with this work—if you all left, how would they survive? Let’s all get along and make a living. I promise, no one from the Nanhai Gang will bully you. What’s happened is over and done with.”

“In that case, let me thank you once again, Brother Li! If you ever need anything, just send word, and the Three Heroes of Duanzhou will be at your service—no questions asked!” This time, Wang Ling no longer hesitated. Ding Li’s words were sincere—at least, so it seemed to Wang Ling. Admiration stirred in his heart as he bowed deeply once more.