Chapter 12: A Lion Wrestling a Rabbit

Chapter 12: A Lion Fighting a Rabbit

“Yes, Leader Qiao,” the beggars replied in unison with smiles.

Clearly, this wasn’t the first time they had killed someone to make meat buns.

“What leader Qiao?”

Big Brother Qiao feigned displeasure, but the slight curl at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

There was no leader in the entire faction anymore.

In the Minzhou branch, who else could qualify to be leader but him?

As for how to explain it to the higher-ups—

In the martial world, people being killed was nothing unusual.

Not to mention, the Beggars’ Sect had plenty of enemies.

“What are you standing there for? Hurry up!”

Snapping back to reality, Big Brother Qiao saw everyone still frozen in place and growled in anger.

Just as the beggars were about to take action, a golden shadow descended from the sky.

Like fragments of the sun crashing down to earth.

Qin Yuan had arrived.

He brought with him the Invincible Vajra Divine Skill.

Although the people in the courtyard appeared to be weaklings, the beggars hadn’t even reacted before they were all sent flying as if hit by a speeding train.

Some crashed through the house, others broke down the walls, and when they hit the ground, none got back up.

“There’s still one alive?”

Qin Yuan, face covered, rushed to the gravely wounded Big Brother Qiao and snapped his neck with a single kick.

This man looked dignified and carefree, but in truth, he was utterly wicked.

Truly, one cannot judge a man by his appearance.

Ah, the Lost Soul Wind.

After a brief search, Qin Yuan found the so-called Lost Soul Wind.

He carefully set it aside.

Though transformed, he was no longer afraid of poison, but who could guarantee there wouldn’t be a mishap?

It would just take more time.

Time was the one thing old Qin had plenty of.

Suddenly, a young beggar returned from outside, saw the corpses scattered about, and knelt in terror, pleading with his head bowed, “Please don’t kill me.”

Qin Yuan decisively kicked him to death.

The martial world was no place for sentiment; when you gain the upper hand, you must utterly annihilate your foes.

After another sweep to confirm all the Beggars’ Sect disciples were dead, he approached the cellar, where terrified children huddled inside.

“Who are Chen Yiying’s children?”

“I—I am,” a boy clutching a toddler replied, face full of fear.

His small frame trembled violently, nearly collapsing.

Though he hadn’t heard the earlier scene, he had sensed the horror.

This man was terrifying.

“It was your grandparents who sent me to find you,” Qin Yuan said gently.

Hearing “grandparents,” the boy’s fear eased somewhat.

“Come up.”

Qin Yuan extended his rough hand.

Since cultivating the Invincible Vajra Divine Skill, Qin Yuan’s hands had grown increasingly coarse.

In no time, he helped all the children out—two of them already dead.

They hadn’t even tasted the bitterness or sweetness of life before it ended.

Though perhaps that was a mercy.

“Uncle, is life always this painful, or only when you’re a child?”

The boy, having lost his parents and fallen into the hands of traffickers, his body covered in whip marks, asked a question beyond his years.

Qin Yuan thought for a moment and didn’t lie: “It’s always like this.”

The boy fell silent.

After a while, a faint, forced smile crept onto his young face. “Uncle, why are you golden?”

The other children looked on with curiosity.

Besides the Buddha statues in the temple, they had never seen a golden person before.

“Uncle is made of gold. If you sell me, you could get lots of silver.”

Qin Yuan joked.

No child laughed.

Awkward.

“Big liar,” the boy suddenly muttered.

Qin Yuan looked at him in confusion. “What big liar?”

“Gulong,” the boy’s scattered thoughts barely made sense to Qin Yuan.

“Gulong said the Beggars’ Sect was good.”

Apparently, he’d read “The Legend of the Condor Heroes.”

“Novels are full of lies,” Qin Yuan said, patting his little head with amusement.

…

Time flew like a fleeting shadow; three months passed in an instant.

During that time, Qin Yuan went sea fishing on a small boat, and when the mood struck, he unleashed his Invincible Vajra Divine Skill in the vast ocean.

The effect was hundreds of times stronger than when he practiced in the city cellar.

If not for worry about unknown sea monsters lurking beneath, Qin Yuan wouldn’t have wanted to come ashore.

One day, Qin Yuan returned to Minzhou city. As a seafood merchant, he naturally wouldn’t miss Qin Tower and Chu House, the most famous brothels in town—Red Mansion, run by a wealthy man named Lai.

Qin Yuan ordered a courtesan named Yingying.

He spared no expense.

But Yingying was frail and fled in terror after only half a night.

…

The next day, at Laughing Pavilion.

Qin Yuan ate assorted pastries while listening to merchants and idlers chatting.

“The Empress Dowager and the Emperor fled to Western Province.”

“Western Province is two thousand miles from the capital—quite a run.”

“I’m tired of hearing about the Empress Dowager and the Emperor.”

“Then how about the Yellow Lotus Sect leader? Young and already mastered a rare skill, called Innate Gang Qi. One man fought three grandmasters and held his own. What a pity.”

“A pity what?”

Someone asked eagerly.

“Outnumbered and captured.”

“And then?”

“Sentenced to be burned alive.”

Silence fell over the crowd.

After a while, someone asked, “Where do all the experts in the Western Sea nations and the Western Sect come from?”

“Not sure about the Western Sect, but the Western Sea nations have a divine skill called Lesser Yang Scripture that one can master quickly after castration.”

“So all the experts there are eunuchs?”

“Isn’t that so?”

Laughter erupted.

…

Qin Yuan stroked the faint beard growing on his chin.

So the Western Sea nations dominated the world by turning martial arts like the Sunflower Manual into cheap street skills.

Compared to the Ming Dynasty’s martial world, which prized tradition and secrecy, the Western Sea nations’ openness about martial arts earned Qin Yuan’s grudging respect.

Just then, someone rushed in shouting, “The Western Sea nations and Western Sect have suffered heavy losses and are retreating!”

After a brief silence, the Laughing Pavilion erupted into deafening cheers.

Since the great war, northern trade routes had been cut off, and everyone lost a lot of silver.

Now the war was over; they could earn silver again.

“I should head back.”

Finishing his drink, Qin Yuan left.

…

Western Province, in the palace.

Actually, it was the residence of a wealthy merchant named Qiao.

The Empress Dowager, dressed as a common woman, her age betrayed by the absence of makeup, looked over the courtyard filled with gold, silver, food, and cloth sent from Yuting in Qingzhou.

She nodded approvingly. “Yuting is a loyal minister.”

Her anger at Yuting’s hesitance to advance faded somewhat.

“Your Majesty, before arriving, Commander Wei had already dispatched the entire army,” a Wei messenger said respectfully, lying on the ground like a dog.

The Empress Dowager smiled even more.

“Go back and tell Wei that if he repels the enemy, I will make him Governor.”

Unlike the usual theatrical style of referring to oneself as “I, the Empress” or “this humble one,” the Empress Dowager normally used “I,” only using the formal “we” in edicts.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” the messenger said, face beaming.

If Wei became Governor, it would benefit him as well.

Suddenly, the Empress Dowager added, “Tell Wei to deal with the Yellow Lotus Sect as well.”

Compared to the plundering Western Sea nations, the Yellow Lotus Sect was a more dangerous threat.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

After the messenger left, the Empress Dowager’s face darkened.

Currently, the main force of the palace guards was nearly annihilated.

She had no other choice but to rely on Wei.

Soon, she burst into wild laughter.

It made her look like a madwoman.

…

(End of chapter)