Chapter Eighty: Conspiracy

With a sharp crack, even the teacups on the table jumped thrice. “Useless, the lot of you! Just a few young disciples from Yuntian Sect show up and you all cower, too scared to make a move. Hmph! Where is the pride of our Guihai City? You’ve thoroughly disgraced the Nine Sects and Eighteen Gangs!” Ouyang Zhenghe, the old patriarch, seethed with rage in the Hall of Righteousness.

Beneath him stood more than a dozen men of various appearances, most of them heads or deputies of the Nine Sects and Eighteen Gangs. They were subordinate to Guihai City and, besides enduring the might of the Guihai family, also had to bear the temper of Righteousness Hall, the so-called greatest gang.

“So? Why has everyone gone silent? Where is the boldness you showed when I issued the Ruthless Order? Back then, you were fighting over who would help Master Guihai take the enemy’s head. Now you’re all deflated,” Ouyang Zhenghe mocked, seeing no one dared speak.

“Ouyang Chief, we’ve always been loyal to Old Master Guihai; there’s no question about that. But those disciples from the Five Great Spiritual Sects are no pushovers. At first, it was just Yihua Gate, a group of young women—we thought we could handle them. Who knew a troupe from Yuntian Sect would suddenly join in? It truly caught us off guard,” replied a middle-aged man in blue with a long, three-stranded beard.

“Little Zhuge, what do you suggest? We’ve already boasted to Old Master Guihai. If we don’t eliminate a few of the enemy before the Lingjue Arena and curb their arrogance, won’t we lose all face?” Ouyang Zhenghe looked to the head of Multi-Star Gang, Little Zhuge.

Little Zhuge stroked his beard and, after a moment, said, “It’s not impossible to take down a few of them.”

Someone immediately asked, “Master Zhuge, do you have a clever plan?”

Addressed as “Master Zhuge,” he was given much face. He replied unhurriedly, “Although Yuntian Sect and Yihua Gate are prestigious, they are few in number. We must unite as one, not fight separately as we did this morning. Otherwise, we’ll lose a man for every man we send.”

A short, stocky middle-aged man interjected, “Master Zhuge is right. Even that iron mountain of a man was easily defeated. We can’t win by force. In my opinion, we should lure out a couple of those Yuntian brats or Yihua girls and overwhelm them together.” As he spoke, he nodded emphatically, as if he’d devised a masterstroke.

Someone echoed, “Indeed, Brother Ji is right. Our Bronze Gang agrees with this plan,” said Tong Peng, the chief of Bronze Gang.

The so-called Brother Ji was actually Beggar Chicken, chief of the Hundred Birds Gang. Flattered by Tong Peng’s praise, he puffed out his chest.

Seeing the group agree with his plan, Little Zhuge continued, “The girls from Yihua Gate must have been frightened by the morning’s battle and are likely sticking together. Luring one out will not be easy. In contrast, the Yuntian disciples are new to Guihai City and unfamiliar with its ways. They tasted victory this morning, and pride breeds recklessness. With a little trickery, we can probably lure out a few Yuntian brats.”

Beggar Chicken immediately asked, “Master Zhuge, what’s your plan?”

Little Zhuge turned to a man with sharp features and said, “We’ll need the help of Brother Jia from Gatekeeper Sect.”

Jia Er, as he was called, looked surprised. “Our Gatekeeper Sect is in charge of the city’s defenses and loyal to Old Master Guihai. Of course I’ll do my part. But what exactly do you need?”

Little Zhuge replied meaningfully, “We need your men for searching and tailing.”

Jia Er was still puzzled, chuckling, “Wouldn’t Beggar Chicken’s men be better for that? His gang is everywhere in the city, dressed to blend in. They’re perfect for surveillance.” As he spoke, he shot Beggar Chicken a mocking glance.

The Hundred Birds Gang, to put it nicely, was a band of beggars; to put it bluntly, a rabble. They often clashed with the Gatekeeper Sect over city matters. Today, both were present only to save face for Ouyang Zhenghe. Though outwardly cordial, there was no love lost between them.

Beggar Chicken caught the sarcasm, but responded, “We of the Hundred Birds Gang are naturally best suited for this. If Jia Er’s men follow someone, people might think they’re catching thieves and spook the targets.” He seized the chance to show off before Ouyang Zhenghe, while also poking fun at Jia Er. After all, the gangs of Guihai City saw each other constantly. If Old Master Guihai ever truly established a grand sect, they might all end up as fellow disciples.

Little Zhuge laughed, “Not so, Brother Chicken. This time, only Brother Jia will do.”

Both Beggar Chicken and Jia Er looked to Little Zhuge in confusion. Stroking his beard, Little Zhuge explained, “Those Yuntian disciples are no ordinary men. Their spiritual power is formidable, and they would almost certainly detect a tail. Brother Chicken’s men are professionals at this, which would make the Yuntian brats even more suspicious. On the other hand, Brother Jia’s Gatekeeper Sect can search the city openly, so following someone becomes a matter of course. Even if the Yuntian brats notice, they’ll assume it’s just precaution against trouble at the Lingjue Arena.”

Tong Peng, Beggar Chicken, Jia Er, and the others all nodded in admiration. No wonder he was called Little Zhuge—he was indeed a master of strategy.

Jia Er cupped his fists to Ouyang Zhenghe. “Rest assured, sir. As soon as any Yuntian disciple leaves Guihai Pavilion, I’ll report their movements to you. Once you pick a suitable spot, we’ll strike together.”

Ouyang Zhenghe clapped in approval. “Excellent! I’ll leave it to you, Brother Jia. But how will we lure those Yuntian brats out of the Pavilion? What if they also hole up and avoid our traps?”

Little Zhuge, already confident, replied, “You needn’t worry, sir. I noticed this morning that the Yuntian disciple who fought Iron Mountain was proud and lustful. We just need to send someone with a note claiming it’s from Huang Wan’er of Yihua Gate, inviting him to a rendezvous. He’ll surely go alone, and then—” Little Zhuge drew a hand across his throat.

Everyone burst into applause, awaiting Ouyang Zhenghe’s order. But before he could speak, a cold laugh sounded from outside the Hall of Righteousness: “A pack of gutless rats, scheming in the shadows. You disgrace the Nine Sects and Eighteen Gangs of Guihai City!”

The shout startled the conspirators, who looked out in alarm. From outside strode more than a dozen men, led by a figure in his thirties, upright and imposing, with an air of chilling authority.

“He—he’s here?” the crowd murmured. Even Ouyang Zhenghe involuntarily rose from his seat, forcing a smile. “What wind brings Brother Hu to my Hall of Righteousness?”

The newcomer was none other than the leader of Iron Cavalry Society, the second largest faction among the Nine Sects and Eighteen Gangs of Guihai City. This was Hu Feng, known as the Xuanyuan Sword. Self-taught in powerful spiritual arts, Hu Feng’s swordsmanship was unmatched. In just three years, he had transformed Iron Cavalry from a minor gang into a dominant force, with many factions now under his sway. A hidden rivalry simmered between Iron Cavalry and Righteousness Hall.

Hu Feng’s reply to Ouyang Zhenghe was laced with irony. “I heard you issued a Ruthless Order this morning, but in the process, two of Guihai’s great gangs fell. At this rate, there might not be much left of the Nine Sects and Eighteen Gangs by the time the Lingjue Arena opens.”

Ouyang Zhenghe, ever the sly old fox, showed no anger. Instead, he calmly sipped his tea and said evenly, “Whether the Ruthless Order succeeds doesn’t matter. What matters is my loyalty to Lord Guihai.”

Hu Feng retorted, “I fear your loyalty has become a lump of coal, only smearing Old Master Guihai’s name.”

“Oh? And what has Master Hu done for the old master lately?” Ouyang Zhenghe shot back.

“See for yourself.” With a wave, Hu Feng’s men brought forth a cloth-wrapped bundle, round and heavy, dripping fresh blood.

Someone with sharp eyes cried, “It’s—it’s a head!”

Hu Feng laughed heartily and tossed the head into the room. The cloth fell away, and the head rolled across the floor.

Ouyang Zhenghe narrowed his eyes. “Master Hu, what is the meaning of this?”

Hu Feng’s gaze flashed coldly. “You’ve been pampered too long, sir. If you’d witnessed the battle before Guihai Pavilion this morning, you’d recognize this as the head of a Yuntian disciple.” As he spoke, he flicked a wooden plaque across the hall toward Ouyang Zhenghe.

Sensing a rush of spiritual energy, Ouyang Zhenghe barked and summoned his own power, snatching the plaque from the air. On it were freshly carved, blood-dripping words: “Yuntian Sect Disciplinary Hall, ninth-generation disciple, Jiu Ming.”