That might still be the case, Hong Fei cautioned himself. But now it seems the bonds between the three groups are more well established than I’d thought. He eyed the words carved into the tiger’s eyes. And those relationships aren’t just based on money. These people challenge fate directly.
Hong Fei gestured for help in leaning the slats against a wall, and he re-examined the names with Sun Han alongside him. There were too many to investigate by his courtyard alone, even with the Kangs helping. The dilemma was who else to trust with the task, since there were spies within the Yu household.
The Ma family had been warned prior to the raid on their residence. It was the reason why the raid on the brothel consisted of only four people. The only others who knew about it were the duchess Yu Ning and her steward Zhang Dehua.
That caution appeared to be serving them well—Big Ox and Little Ox sat on their chairs down below unaware of the raid. Hong Fei expected the two men to die soon and quickly. If not at the Yu family’s hands, then under the influence of magic. The Rock Knives who’d been captured previously—the ones who’d known more than others—had all died by some unknown magic. It took away the opportunity to interrogate and elicit any information about their bosses or the people behind them.
A thought came to Hong Fei, and he retrieved one of the knives kept by Big Ox. He scraped the edge of the first slat they’d turned over, then knelt to examine the rock dust that fell. To his inexpert eyes, it looked very much like the dust that had coated the shoes of the Tiger Masks who’d invaded the Yu estate.
Whether that meant anything, however, was uncertain, since much of the stone coming from the quarries upstream of Ruby Swift City came in similar shades. Hong Fei needed someone more familiar with stone to see if this evidence actually meant anything.
A cool energy suddenly flowed into the place above and between Hong Fei’s eyes. He shot to his feet and ran for the door. Essence lengthened his stride as he flew through the corridor, leapt to the bottom of the stairs, and landed beside the Red 3 struggling against her bonds.
Hong Fei’s glance told him she was alive, and he heard the sound of yelling coming from below, so he disappeared through the curtain. Several of the second-floor doors were cracked open, the heads of men and women poking out to learn the source of commotion. Those doors slammed shut at the sight of a bloody Hong Fei running past with a knife in hand.
Sun Han would take care of the still-living Red 3. One or both of the oxen brothers must’ve been the source of the energy, and at the second-floor’s landing, he saw it: Big Ox on the ground, headless.
Chen Wenbin was down, too. With his teeth clenched, the xiàowèi clutched at where his right arm ought to be. What was left of it, the hand and part of the forearm, lay beside him.
Behind Chen Wenbin, it was as if a line had been drawn: where it passed, a hole the size of two fists was blown through the people there, their bodies sprawled, dead or dying. Even the room’s stone wall had been punched through.
Hong Fei tracked the line back and saw Cai Shi engaged with Little Ox. The rug under the fighters had caught fire, the source a short rod laying on the ground. It glowed a dull orange from the heat still radiating from it.
As the prostitutes and their clientele both scrambled to flee through the windows, the guards rushed toward the melee, including the doorman Qi Gatherer who’d been stationed outside.
Hong Fei ran a thread of essence through his legs before leaping. His robes fluttered from the sudden motion; his kick caught the doorman unaware, striking above the temple. The man took a few stumbling steps, then bent at the waist and shook his head to clear it.
Hong Fei landed and powered a second kick, a stomp into the doorman’s rib cage. The flow of the man’s qi must’ve been disrupted, because the bones shattered. He coughed air at first, then blood. Knife in hand, Hong Fei went for the kill and drove his knife into the doorman’s heart.
A familiar twang came from the right and instincts honed on the Askalousans Steppes sent Hong Fei ducking, pivoting, and grabbing hold of the doorman’s slumping body to use it as a shield. A bolt sprouted from the man’s chest.
Hong Fei’s essence flowed freely now, and his lower cauldron contained enough qi for one more spell, so he cast Lion on the Battlefield. His muscles swelled, his reaction speed quickened, and his tendons and bones strengthened.
A wide-eyed guard had occupied one of the private alcoves. Now, she quickly worked to re-cock her crossbow. A pair of steps brought Hong Fei to her. The distance was awkward, so he added a third half-step at the end before striking his opponent’s chest with a palm.
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The Dustborn guard’s chest caved; she flew back to slam into the wall behind her. Blood bloomed like a flower upon it as her body burst from the impact. She slumped down onto the cushioned couch occupying the alcove.
Another guard came at Hong Fei with a short staff made from stone. The weapon whirred as it swung toward his back. There’d been only a brief flash of white before the impact knocked the breath out of him.
Hong Fei’s body clenched. His lungs struggled to inhale but couldn’t. He forced himself to ignore his body’s panic and turn. The staff loomed in his vision as another strike came at him, aimed at the bridge of his nose. He leapt back to avoid the blow, landing unsteadily on the cushioned couch that’d been behind him. The body of the crossbowman from earlier slid to the ground.
Hong Fei’s body still couldn’t breathe; its panic increased, but his mind worked steadily to analyze the melee. A warrior challenged and loved to be challenged in turn, and this—this was what he was made for.
His opponent was a short woman with brawny arms and dark hair cropped close to her head. If the two fighters were to stand side-by-side, the top of her head would barely reach Hong Fei’s shoulders. She’d used that height to her advantage, however, to stay low in Hong Fei’s peripheral vision. She’d also controlled her essence, so that its use didn’t give away her presence.
Hong Fei forced himself to smile. He stepped off of the couch as a warrior ought to, as if he owned the ground upon which he walked.
The Short Guard twirled her staff in response, creating a defensive space around her, and Hong Fei’s smile spread. He gasped as his diaphragm suddenly relaxed and air flowed once more into his lungs.
The staff flashed toward Hong Fei, but he’d expected the strike, sliding aside and then closing the distance. The Short Guard raised the staff’s butt to ward away the knife in Hong Fei’s hand but was caught by a low kick to the knee instead. Her stance disrupted, the Short Guard rolled away, and Hong Fei pursued, not letting his opponent re-open the distance.
A glance showed Cai Shi fighting one against two, yet the Yu soldier was holding his own. Chen Wenbin was still grounded, but the stub of his arm no longer bled. The brothel’s common room and private alcoves had emptied of living customers. The ground was slick with the blood and piss of the dead.
Hong Fei flurried a series of stabs, punches, and kicks. Each was blocked, and he would pay for those attacks later with bruises on his hands, forearms, and shins, but they kept his opponent off-balance. The momentum had shifted.
The Short Guard must’ve realized, too, because her eyes darted around the room. She tried maneuvering Hong Fei toward the other fight, and when that didn’t work, toward the exit.
The staff’s timing changed; it revealed to Hong Fei that his opponent was panicking, that she was afraid of death. He offered a half-step back, and the Short Guard took it with a full swing of the staff in return.
Hong Fei caught the weapon at the end of its arc, then slid past its length like it was a road and embedded his knife in the gang member’s throat. The Short Guard gagged, her eyes as big as coins. The essence in her body rioted, but a wound that lethal was beyond what essence could recover.
Hong Fei pulled his knife free and cut the blood vessels in the Short Guard’s neck, giving her a quick end. He wiped his palms on her clothes.
The Rock Knives fighting Cai Shi saw him stalking toward them. Their faces, already grim, turned ugly. Hong Fei didn’t blame them. They’d already faced a stalemate, and now a new piece was being added to their game board. There was only one conclusion they could reach.
Little Ox stepped back and decisively shoved the brothel guard who’d been fighting alongside him into Cai Shi’s arms. That fight turned into a scramble, the two mens’ limbs tangling as they went to the ground. Little Ox then made a run for the nearest window.
Hong Fei tackled him, and the two of them also went to the ground. The gang boss proved to be an incompetent grappler, however, without any experience in how to leverage his qi when not striking. Hong Fei got his knife into the man once, twice, and thrice—repeatedly puncturing the left lung. Little Ox continued to fight, but the man’s strength hissed out along with the lung’s air. Soon, his limbs became feeble and losing inevitable.
Fear gripped the Little Ox’s face, and he made one last effort to throw Hong Fei off. When that failed, he began to choke as his throat closed. The magic ensuring he could never reveal the gang’s secrets closed in, and his spine rebelled against him. The bones snapped, the neck cracked, and his fearful eyes grew dim.
The body went still under Hong Fei, and a cool energy flowed into him. Panting, Hong Fei returned to standing. He saw that Cai Shi had the last Rock Knife guard pinned.
“I yield,” the gang member yelled. “Have mercy; I yield.”
Hong Fei kicked away the weapons near him, then helped Cai Shi to put the guard into a more stable position, a knife at the throat. There were no more immediate threats apparent, so he went to check on Chen Wenbin.
The people on the ground behind the xiàowèi were no longer moving. Those that hadn’t immediately died from their wounds had bled to death.
The air tasted of the metal qi binding Chen Wenbin’s arm to keep him from following them to the underworld. “An artifact,” he said, his face pale. The xiàowèi nodded to the rod, now no longer glowing. “Its strength was beyond me. Fortunately, he could only use it the once.”
Hong Fei compared the wound to what was left of the arm. “There’s a good piece missing. We won’t be able to re-attach it.”
Chen Wenbin’s lips narrowed in anger. He breathed deeply and steadily, and a moment later, the xiàowèi put his stoicism on like a mask. “We will come to terms with the evening’s losses in due time. One hopes that the price was worth it.”
“We found a hidden list of names,” Hong Fei answered. “I’ll need help in tracking the people down.” He got his shoulder under Chen Wenbin to help him stand. “There’s also an accounting book of the brothel’s clients. Those people will also need investigation.”
The xiàowèi nodded. “We’ll require trustworthy people for those tasks.”
“We will,” Hong Fei said gently.
“Was there anything else?” Chen Wenbin asked, his eyes surveying the carnage around them.
“We also learned our enemies have weapons capable of harming a Qi Blossoming warrior,” Hong Fei replied.
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Scholar Sun Han, a summons
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Big Ox, a Rock Knife boss, responsible for the gang's brothels
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Chen Wenbin, the xiàowèi of the Yu's soldiers
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Cai Shi, a shízhǎng of the Yu family
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Little Ox, a Rock Knife boss, responsible for the gang's loans
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Red 3, a Rock Knife guard with a Red 3 above her head