Chapter 187: Don’t Mention This Knife

That evening, in an alleyway within Xi’an, a murder occurred. A man in his thirties had been hacked to death inside the narrow lane.

The murderer had been exceptionally brutal, striking the victim dozens of times. The face suffered the worst, hacked into a pulp until utterly mangled.

A night watchman patrolling the city discovered the corpse and swiftly reported it to the authorities. Unable to identify the deceased, officials began a city-wide search among residents for the victim’s kin. Eventually, news came that a gunpowder maker named Xu Dafu had gone missing from the official workshop. An artisan master was promptly summoned to identify the body.

The artisan master instantly recognized the clothes as Xu Dafu’s. From the pockets, Xu Dafu’s purse was retrieved—empty, of course.

With the victim confirmed, constables set out to gather clues and apprehend the killer. But since the deceased was a penniless gunpowder maker with neither wife nor child, the constables saw little reason to exert themselves. They went through the motions halfheartedly before closing the case.

While the city preoccupied itself with this futile investigation, Xing Honglang prepared to leave Xi’an. With her were thirty-eight followers, a lamp maker, and a gunpowder maker.

Both artisans now wore garments identical to her crew’s, blending in like common merchants. The procession wound through streets and alleys toward the city gate.

As they walked, Xing Honglang spotted a vendor by the roadside hawking an unusually large thick-bladed knife. Longer than an ordinary large knife, its size clearly limited its usability.

In Xing Honglang’s mind flashed the towering figure of Gao Chuwu.

“How much for that knife?”

“Three strings of cash!”

“I’ll take it.”

After sealing the deal and paying, Xing Honglang slung the knife across her back. Turning around, she found all thirty-eight subordinates staring at her with peculiar expressions.

Fuming, Xing Honglang snapped, “What are you gawking at? What’s so strange about this old lady buying a knife? Explain those ridiculous looks!”

Old Zhu ventured cautiously, “Boss, isn’t this knife… rather… oversized… for you?”

Thump!

A fist slammed onto Old Zhu’s skull, sending him clutching his head as he squatted low. “One more word about this knife,” Xing Honglang hissed, “and I’ll rearrange your faces until even your mothers won’t recognize you.”

All thirty-eight instantly sealed their lips shut.

The boss had thin skin—utterly humorless best stay silent.

Xing Honglang’s group exited Xi’an Prefecture’s city gate without incident. Xu Dafu had feared interrogation, but the veteran gate guards barely glanced at him.

Refugees lately had flooded in and out like a marketplace crowd, leaving the guards too weary to inspect them individually. After a token question and collecting pieces of silver from Xing Honglang, they waved the group through.

Only then did Xu Dafu realize flight wasn’t nearly as difficult as imagined.

Official power truly had weakened to this point—or perhaps, authorities long since lost the capacity to track someone like him.

Having never before left Xi’an Prefecture, the moment he stepped beyond the gate, the sky seemed vast for birds to fly. A liberating euphoria washed over him, identical to what Blacksmith Li Da experienced six months prior upon leaving Chengcheng County.

“Out here isn’t safe though,” Xing Honglang laughed boisterously. “Shaanxi’s entire territory swarms with bandits. Brace yourselves—we might fight our way back home from here.”

Her words sent both artisans flinching in renewed terror.

Beyond Xi’an, their route passed through relatively peaceful Weinan. But upon reaching Dali County, thunderous shouting erupted ahead. Over a hundred bandits blocked the mountain path. “This mountain I opened! This tree I—”

Xing Honglang raised her knife with a furious roar: “This old lady is Yongji Xing Honglang! Try stopping me if death means nothing to you!”

“Yongji Xing Honglang!”

The bandits trembled at hearing that name and promptly scattered like frightened animals.

“Hmph! A bunch of cowards.” said Xing Honglang: “Let’s go, keep moving forward.”

The two artisans truly broadened their horizons—this woman had scared off over a hundred bandits just by throwing out her name, such a loud reputation she had in the martial world! They felt they’d found a powerful patron.

Following her, they might genuinely strike it rich.

The group traveled day and night, swiftly passing through Dali County and continuing north, right up to the boundary marker between Chengcheng County and Dali County…

About to cross, a troop of officials suddenly burst forth ahead, led by the new patrol officer Fang Wushang, who spurred his horse and pointed his spear at Xing Honglang and her companions: “What kind of people are you?”

Xing Honglang: “I am a sugar merchant.”

“Sugar merchant?” Fang Wushang squinted: “I see you lot—every one of you looks vicious, not like sugar merchants, more like salt merchants.”

That sentence startled them all, and many hands shifted toward sword hilts.

Xing Honglang casually took a carrying pole from a subordinate’s shoulder and offered it up: “Sir, we carry blades and swords for self-defense, as you know things aren’t peaceful out there. As for what we’re selling, please inspect closely; there’s still sugar residue in the bamboo basket.”

Fang Wushang used his spear to hoist the pole, slid it toward himself, reached into the corner of the bamboo basket, picked up a white crystal grain, tasted it—sweet…

Xing Honglang also presented a silver ingot.

“Take it away.” Fang Wushang pushed Xing Honglang’s silver aside, snorted: “Don’t confuse me with those corrupt fraudsters who scam, take bribes, and cheat for a living. I earned my place with my own skills.”

Then, he cleared the path: “Conduct honest business, no crooked tricks.”

Xing Honglang pocketed the silver and led her men past.

Fang Wushang yelled after them: “If you hear any news of bandits, report it to the authorities immediately, so I can kill them all without a trace!”

Xing Honglang turned back, gave Fang Wushang a deep look, and raised her fists in respect.

This time, her gesture held an added layer of reverence.

The group proceeded toward Gaojia Village.

Old Zhu came closer: “That new patrol officer seems like a down-to-earth person.”

Xing Honglang whispered: “He’s decent enough, but too rough; such a man doesn’t live long. See, he only checked one of our poles, tasted the sugar, and let us pass. If he had examined two more, he’d have found salt.”

Old Zhu nodded: “Exactly what our leader says—he won’t live long. If bandits don’t kill him, the authorities will. Heh!”

They entered Chengcheng County, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

The “public security” here was truly far better than in other surrounding towns.

That probably came from Gaojia Village constantly distributing grain through Liang Shixian; if common folks got enough to eat, they wouldn’t risk rebellion and beheading.

Xing Honglang, having traveled widely, saw the truth of this world ever clearer.

The Deity guarded this one region, securing its peace and joy, but areas without the Deity’s protection were scenes straight from hell.

That was something the happy villagers of Gaojia Village could scarcely imagine.

She turned her head to glance at the gunpowder makers among the group, thinking: The Deity specifically asked for the gunpowder makers, surely it was for… combat?

To spread Gaojia Village’s happiness across the world, they must fight it out! Sweep away every monster and demon in this world.

Xing Honglang couldn’t help but clench her fist: if the Deity truly pursued this, this little girl would serve with all her strength.