Chapter Fifty-Five: Silver Fortune Gambling House, Master of the Thousand Mechanisms Pavilion

What kind of elixir did this corpulent magistrate swallow to cause such discomfort in his heart? Could it be that someone had secretly tried to harm him? Unfortunately, he refused to speak plainly. That night, Han Chong returned to the bureau and found Captain Ning and the others anxiously waiting in the gatehouse, where a scar-faced beggar had been settled in the corner, appearing half-mad and foolish.

“Captain Han, you’re back. This is the scar-faced fellow we spent two days searching for, but he seems insane, and hardly appears to have any connection to the Hundred Wisdom Pavilion’s branch.”

Han Chong gazed intently at the beggar, who suddenly lunged at him with a foolish grin, clawing wildly. In a flash, Han Chong slipped away, and the beggar crashed with a thud into the rear corner, splitting his forehead and bleeding.

“Stop feigning madness. I have no time to waste on your tricks. Speak quickly—where is the Hundred Wisdom Pavilion?”

Han Chong saw at once the man was pretending; after all, he had lunged abruptly toward him. Bound tightly with the golden demon-binding cord, the beggar found himself unable to move, and the tighter it pressed, the more it hurt.

The pain and the binding finally brought fear to his face. “I’ll talk, I’ll talk! Please, officer, loosen the cord.”

Han Chong relaxed the cord, though it still wound around the beggar’s body.

“It’s not that I refuse to speak, but the Pavilion has rules: we don’t deal with the authorities, lest we invite trouble.”

“Hmph! Calamity is about to befall Yunzhou. If you keep delaying, your entire Pavilion will be destroyed—far worse than mere trouble.”

“Yes, yes. The branch is inside the Silver Fortune Gambling House. I can take you there, but the branch only receives one person at a time. Those in official robes cannot follow.”

“Very well, I’ll go alone. The rest of you, wait here.”

“Yes, sir!”

Han Chong followed the scar-faced man unhurriedly to the west side of the southern city, a place teeming with all sorts—rogues and wanderers mingling, winding through seven turns and eight bends, finally arriving at a secluded alley.

Though remote, the alley bustled with people, all hurrying along, their purses bulging with silver.

Four red lanterns hung beneath the eaves, bearing the name “Silver Fortune Gambling House,” and four tough guards watched the door.

Entering, Han Chong saw a dozen gambling tables crowded with spectators, the air thick with shouts and noise. He glanced about, unable to spot any trace of the Hundred Wisdom Pavilion’s branch, and looked to the scar-faced man.

“Sir, there’s an unwritten rule: you must spend at least a hundred taels of silver in the gambling house before meeting the Pavilion master to buy information.”

The man chuckled slyly, thinking that no matter how high an official’s rank, he must play by their rules here, for killers lurked everywhere.

“Hmph! Why didn’t you say so earlier?”

“If I’d told you sooner, and you had no silver, you’d have forced me, and I could never escape the authorities.”

“Hmph. You fear I can’t pay? Ha.” Han Chong drew two silver ingots from his chest, making the man’s eyes light up with greed.

—

Han Chong strolled to a gambling table, seeing it was a dice game of big or small—a simple affair. Most gamblers were betting on big; Han Chong slapped his two ingots down on the small.

The dealer’s face turned ashen. He hadn’t expected someone to bet so boldly on small after the dice cup had been set, especially with a hundred taels of silver!

“Open it! Go on, open it!” The crowd cried out, startled by the dealer’s hesitation, their hearts pounding.

“Open. One, two, three—small.”

“Ay!” The crowd groaned in disappointment, beating their chests and stamping their feet—it really was small.

Han Chong scratched his head. He’d only intended to spend silver, but unexpectedly won a fair amount.

The scar-faced man twitched his mouth. “Sir, your luck is truly extraordinary!”

“Heh, it seems spending a hundred taels isn’t as easy as I thought.”

Wrapping the silver in a cotton cloth, Han Chong moved to the next table, just as the dice cup was being opened. He tossed his bet, again choosing small.

Such a generous wager, placed so casually, soon drew a hundred gamblers to watch, eager for Han Chong to lose everything.

“Open—three twos, small.”

“What...!” The crowd gaped in disbelief. Sometimes fortune smiles upon the careless, and the lucky blossom blooms without intent. Surely this was pure guesswork.

As Han Chong’s bets grew larger, gamblers from a dozen tables crowded around, trailing after him. After six consecutive wins, he had amassed nearly two thousand taels of silver, his cloth barely able to contain it.

“That’s enough. No more gambling today; I’ll return another time.” Han Chong shook his head, gathered his winnings, and prepared to leave.

“Wait, sir!” More than ten thugs jumped out, blocking his path, each one looking to be a second-rate martial artist.

“What’s this? Won some silver, and now you won’t let me leave?” Han Chong narrowed his eyes, his voice icy.

“Haha, of course not. It’s just that—I suspect you’re cheating.”

The voice came from behind: a man in black, clad for action, his face sharp and sinister, smiling with only his mouth, not his eyes, as he strode forward.

“Cheating? And what proof do you have?”

“We need to search you; that’s how we’ll find the evidence.”

“Oh? All right. I’d like to see how you conjure something from nothing.” Han Chong smiled, spread his arms, and approached.

“Good! Everyone, watch closely as I—Black Six—expose his trickery.”

—

The crowd cheered, motivated only by envy of Han Chong’s winnings.

Black Six began his search, starting from Han Chong’s ankle and moving upward to his chest.

Suddenly, Han Chong seized his sleeve, gripping his arm until it cracked.

“Ah! Let go, let go! You’ll break it!” The man’s face twisted in pain.

Han Chong turned back the sleeve, revealing a magnet.

“Hmph! This crooked den tries to frame me. Looking for death, are you?”

“Spare me, master! Please, let go—you’ll really break it!”

Han Chong dragged the man by the arm toward the inner rooms, the thugs following, and the scar-faced man tagging along.

With a shove, the black-clad man crashed into the wall, nearly smashing a hole in the bricks.

The scar-faced man hurried to help him up, whispering secret words.

With a slap, the scar-faced man was sent flying to the ground.

“Why didn’t you say so earlier? You neglected the officer—quick, please sit, sir!” Black Six clutched his swollen forehead, bowing with a fawning smile.

“Mm. Speak—where is the Hundred Wisdom Pavilion?”

“Officer, please, follow me inside.”

The scar-faced man mused that Black Six had truly been beaten into submission. He’d abandoned his usual rules, welcoming an official into the inner sanctum, and even struck the scar-faced man as a vent—good intentions met with bad reward.

He led Han Chong to the back door, opened a lock, and revealed a secluded courtyard, elegant and serene, with plum, orchid, bamboo, and chrysanthemum artfully arranged. A sword-bearing maid in white stood by a small islet; a lady in brocade and gauze sat alone on a bench.

“Master, a distinguished guest has arrived, seeking information,” Black Six announced respectfully from thirty feet away, bowing low.

“Please,” came a melodious voice, though the lady did not turn around.

Han Chong felt a stir in his heart. So the legendary master of the Hundred Wisdom Pavilion was a woman. So long as her information was accurate, his trip wouldn’t be in vain.

He tossed the bundle of winnings to Black Six.

“Here’s nearly two thousand taels of silver. That should be enough to buy the information I seek.” He walked toward the islet, but was stopped by the sword-bearing maid’s outstretched hand.