Chapter Four: Storm and Turmoil

Originally, according to Yue Zhe’s assumption, Ye Pei was simply practicing calligraphy in the study, never expecting that she was actually working on a piece, and that he had inadvertently ruined it. So, after their chaotic scuffle ended—

“Old Ye, come on, let’s have a drink.” Yue Zhe, carrying a jar of wine, his left eye bruised and purple, strolled into the small courtyard with a fawning grin. In the yard, Ye Pei was pressing a cold, boiled egg to her right eye. When she saw Yue Zhe, she fished another egg from the cold water and tossed it to him, her expression far from friendly.

The relationship between these two was peculiar; though they always fought upon meeting, their brotherly affection was never affected in the slightest.

“Come, Alan, join us!” After setting out the wine and food, Ye Pei waved to Alan nearby. Alan responded without hesitation and sat down, accustomed to his young master’s casual ways.

As the wine flowed and the dishes were sampled—

“Yue Zhe, the street toughs in the city seem restless these days,” Ye Pei remarked.

“That’s nothing unusual. Just go out and put them in their place,” Yue Zhe replied, swirling his cup, unconcerned.

“It’s true, but I can’t show my face right now,” Ye Pei said, a hint of trouble flickering across her features.

“Oh? Someone suspects your identity, Young Master Ye?” Yue Zhe teased.

“Yes,” Ye Pei replied.

“That’s easily solved. Just tell me who it is, I’ll silence them for you, and you’ll be free to handle your matters. My father and I won’t be staying here much longer anyway.”

“This time, it’s your dear niece,” Ye Pei said, her face twisted as if constipated.

“…I suddenly feel a vague pain somewhere,” Yue Zhe replied, equally uncomfortable.

“So my point is, you handle it for me this time. I’ll lie low at home for a while. Best not to let the little princess get involved in these affairs,” Ye Pei said, downing another cup.

“Alright then. What do you need me to do?” Yue Zhe smiled slightly.

“Last winter, the Meng Gang and the Red Blade Society clashed over a trivial matter. It escalated into a turf war, causing such a commotion that even the authorities couldn’t ignore it. I stepped in to hold the officials back and personally mediated. They both agreed to compromise and divided the territory according to their losses. But only a few days passed before they started up again. I thought it was just a petty grudge, but now both sides are dissatisfied with my mediation,” Ye Pei paused to take another sip, then continued, “That’s easy enough. If they won’t accept mediation, then we’ll use the methods of the underworld. I suppressed them myself. But these past days, while I was away, they stirred up trouble again.”

Yue Zhe considered this and said, “So I’ll go suppress them. Just beat them into submission, right?”

Ye Pei nodded. “According to my information, they’re meeting for a battle tomorrow night by the lake five miles north of the city. Need any backup?”

Yue Zhe laughed. “Did you take anyone with you last time?”

“No.”

“Then neither will I. Tomorrow night, I’ll go sort them out.”

In no time at all, their plan was settled, and the process seemed harmonious—just as good friends and brothers ought to be.

But if you, dear reader, believe that was the real situation, you’d be mistaken. That was only my imagination. The truth was as follows:

“Hey, Ye Pei, brought you a jar of wine as an apology from me, Yue Zhe.”

“Mm, just set it down. Here, use this egg for your eye.” With that, Ye Pei picked up a raw, unshelled egg and tossed it to Yue Zhe. Yue Zhe, suspecting nothing, caught it—only for it to crack open in his hand.

“Ye Pei, you bookworm! How dare you mess with me like this!”

“Please. That wine, didn’t you take it from my cellar? Where’s your sincerity in apologizing?”

Yue Zhe’s bravado faltered, but he still shouted, “Then what do you want from me?”

“There’s a gang fight between the Meng Gang and the Red Blade Society outside the city tomorrow night. You go settle it for me.”

“Bookworm, what about the rest of the intel?”

“Ask Alan for the details. If you need backup, ask him too.”

At this, Yue Zhe was already vaulting out of the courtyard, jeering as he went, “My martial arts are unrivaled! Not like you, bookworm, who needs backup just to handle a couple of two-bit gangs—pathetic!”

Ye Pei had already opened a book on the table, ignoring him. With one swift kick, she sent the wine jar rolling toward Yue Zhe’s departing figure.

Catching the jar mid-air, Yue Zhe laughed. “If you won’t drink, I will!”

And that was the real situation.

In any case, the result was the same: Yue Zhe would take Ye Pei’s place the next night to suppress the fight between the two gangs.

Now, to understand Ye Pei’s connection to the city’s underworld, it must be said that it all began with a mischievous youth wielding power far beyond his years, setting off the chain of events that followed.

When Ye Pei was fifteen—on a spring night, if memory serves—he had just returned from a northern ranch, having personally raced back with fresh milk. The young master, clad in plain clothes, arrived in town with his horse and cart.

“Good thing I made it back after a day and night on the road. Otherwise, if this milk spoils, I’ll have to drink it myself.” The “freshness period,” by the way, was set by Young Miss Ye Feilan: She refused to drink milk more than three days old.

Nightly skirmishes in the city outskirts were common enough—underworld battles, after all. As the saying goes:

Heroes arise as clouds gather; once you enter the underworld, the years hurry by.
Empires and ambitions are but laughter and talk; life is but a drunken dream.
Sword in hand, riding through ghostly rain, corpses like mountains, birds startled into flight.
The mortal world surges like the tide, people like water; how many return from the underworld?

Of course, that was only how those in the shadows saw themselves. For them, to live boldly and settle grudges freely was a great joy.

So, just what was the standard of Shunxing City’s underworld? Imagine a group of assassins from some other world, thinking themselves invisible once cloaked, but in truth, as conspicuous as a passing storm cloud—everyone saw them coming. (I’m thinking of Sword Spirit—their stealth is as good as useless.)

Such was the way of things. Under the emperor’s gaze, affairs were strict and development difficult; for these people, just gathering together with weapons was an achievement. The major sects outside the city, meanwhile, either held themselves above such things or already had their own strongholds elsewhere and didn’t bother infiltrating the capital.

The two gangs squaring off that night weren’t even the city’s most prominent—they were small-time at best. Their strength, needless to say, was unimpressive. Let’s call them, for simplicity, the Knife Gang and the Staff Gang, to spare the trouble of naming groups that appear only once.

A youth in plain clothes strolled down the road, whistling nonchalantly, heedless of the thirty or so tense, armed men on either side.

There’s a saying: “A tree lives by its bark, a man by his face.” For toughs like these, especially those in Shunxing City who fancied themselves big shots, being ignored was intolerable. Had Ye Pei so much as glanced their way, they might have let him pass—they weren’t there to rob travelers, after all.

“Hey, you! Stop! Don’t you see the boss is conducting business here? Either take another road or leave your life behind!” shouted the Knife Gang leader, brandishing his blade and lowering the bar for all present.

“Yeah! If you don’t listen, you’ll taste the formidable might of Third Staff Master!” chimed in the Staff Gang’s second-in-command, eager not to be outdone in foolishness.

“Oh… is that so?” Ye Pei paused. “And who are you lot, then?”

“You don’t know us, and yet you dare walk the underworld? Ask around—who hasn’t heard of our two gangs?” The Knife Gang boss slung his blade over his shoulder, puffing up his chest with pride.

Since things had come to this, the Staff Gang leader naturally spoke too: “Listen up! We are—”

But as the group’s sense of shame plummeted, Ye Pei, tying his horse to a tree, interrupted with an indifferent, “Enough. I don’t care to know. Since I won’t take another road, you want my life?”

An idea flashed through Ye Pei’s mind. In the same calm tone, he continued, “Want my life? If you do, you can have it—come take it! My life’s right here!”

Something in his words incited the crowd. With a nod from their leaders, the gang members rushed at Ye Pei, shouting phrases that probably made sense only to themselves—if even that.

“Ha! An unarmed boy! Hand over your life!” The Knife Gang boss’s right hand trembled on his blade. Internally, he screamed, “Is this finally my first kill? I’ve always been the brains, standing in the back. Now that I’m boss, will I finally have my first kill? I’m nervous whenever the opponent has a weapon!”

Indeed, Ye Pei looked defenseless in his plain clothes, with no sign of a weapon.

At this moment, both bosses showed uncharacteristic bravado—one with a knife, one with a staff—charging ahead of their men, weapons swinging at the innocent youth.

“So this is their level… I could handle double their number,” thought Ye Pei, surprised. He had expected more of the city’s underworld on his first encounter.

In a flash, Ye Pei closed the distance, and before the Knife Gang boss could bring his blade down, seized his wrist and crashed a shoulder into his chest. The boss howled, feeling as if his very soul had been shattered, and flew backward.

Turning, Ye Pei dodged a staff swing, then kicked the Staff Gang boss into the air. He leapt after him, stomping the man back to the ground, and with that momentum, vaulted onto a nearby tree, out of reach of the remaining gang members.

“As bosses, you two are laughably weak. Why not come to my place some day and I’ll teach you a few moves?” Ye Pei teased, while drawing a black staff with a metallic sheen from his waist, gazing down at the stunned crowd below.