Chapter Seventeen: The Divine Thief

The force of the fist swept across, and Young Li’s mind went blank. Fortunately, Zhou Qian was at his side. Zhou Qian reacted swiftly: his right palm sliced towards the opponent’s vital point, while his left hand struck directly at the target, aiming for the intruder’s abdomen in the darkness.

But the stranger was no ordinary foe. His steps swayed drunkenly, his figure shifting with uncanny agility as he turned towards Zhou Qian. His hands curled into monkey claws, scratching and digging with a comical appearance, yet his moves were ferocious, aiming straight for Zhou Qian’s heart. Zhou Qian remained vigilant, twisting and repositioning his hands; the opponent felt his technique lose half its force. Shocked, the stranger realized his Monkey Fist thrived on surprise and intricate power, rarely countered by other martial arts. Yet this “fellow practitioner’s” palm technique was elusive and unfathomable—could he have some formidable lineage?

With a shift of intent, he executed the “Little Monkey’s Escapade”—a squat and a flip—easily escaping Zhou Qian’s reach.

“Hold your hand!” The voice was clear and youthful, betraying the stranger’s age.

“Since we all walk the Jianghu, we can talk things through!” Seizing the firelight, the stranger saw the attire of Zhou Qian and his companions and paused, surprised—were these three also thieves?

The three sized up their opponent: less than six feet tall, clad in black clothes and mask. None expected such a situation—this person was clearly not Zhao Yuan, but evidently another gentleman burglar.

“Who are you? Why sneak into the Governor’s residence at night?” Li Sanshan demanded angrily.

“Heh, shouldn’t you be asking yourself that?” the masked figure replied slyly. “Whatever you’re here for, I’m here for the same!”

“We’re not here to steal—”

“Third Brother, shut up!” Wang Hu snapped. “Finders keepers, you know the rules. Surely you don’t need reminding?”

The masked figure pondered, weighing the pros and cons, then said, “You make a fair point.”

He pulled a black cloth bag from his waist, weighed it in his hand, and tossed it to Wang Hu. “This is a portion of my take tonight. Consider it buying your goodwill. I’m called Monkey. Which line are you three in?”

“We won’t bother with lies nor truths. Perhaps it’s best you don’t ask too much,” Wang Hu replied gravely.

Wang Hu handed the bag to Li Sanshan, who eagerly opened it: three jade horses, a string of pearl necklaces, ten gold ingots. Second Brother Li’s eyes gleamed green with greed.

“May I take my leave now?” the stranger asked, his tone wary.

“Go on, we won’t see you off,” Li Sanshan said impatiently.

Monkey cautiously circled past the three and reached the doorway. Suddenly, he turned to Zhou Qian and said, “Your palm technique is superb. Surely your master is a grandmaster of the martial world. I’m curious—what is it that tempts you to take such a risk?”

Monkey’s figure vanished into the darkness—

“What’s going on?” Li Sanshan muttered in frustration. “No sign of Zhao Yuan, but a thief shows up instead! What a bizarre night!”

“Enough chatter! While Zhao Yuan’s gone, let’s search for clues before any mishap occurs!” Wang Hu urged.

“Third Brother, what martial arts style did that guy use?” Wang Hu asked while rummaging through drawers.

“It seemed like an ancient Monkey Fist style. But Master once said Monkey Fist has southern and northern branches—the southern is lost, only the northern survives with the Tan family in Yong’an. But that family’s line is weak, and hasn’t been seen in the Jianghu for ages!” Zhou Qian mused. “How could one of their descendants be mixing with the underworld?”

Wardrobe, study, bed, cabinets—they searched every possible corner, even tapping stone bricks for hidden doors or mechanisms, but found nothing. The three were left frustrated.

“Looks like you haven’t found what you wanted!” Monkey’s mocking voice came from the doorway. The mysterious thief had returned.

“What do you mean?” Zhou Qian asked warily, hands tense and ready.

“No harm meant! Since you haven’t found what you seek, do you dare accompany me to probe the most heavily guarded spot in the Governor’s residence? Perhaps there you’ll find what you desire.”

“Where?” Li Sanshan asked.

“The Treasury.”

“Why us?” Wang Hu asked gravely.

“Because we’re all in the same trade,” Monkey replied, “and you lot don’t care for riches. No conflict of interest means we can cooperate.”

The three pondered and agreed. By moonlight, the four hurried towards the Governor’s Treasury.

None expected Monkey to know the Governor’s residence so intimately. He was familiar with the schedules of guards and servants, slipping past six batches of soldiers and seven servants with ease, dodging and sneaking until they reached the chambers of Zhao San’s favorite sixth concubine, Chun’er. Monkey gave them a signal, ignored their strange looks, and was the first to slip inside.

“I thought he was an ordinary thief, but he’s a refined burglar!” Li Sanshan shook his head in amazement.

The three followed. The concubine’s chamber was empty, but the screens, dressing table, painted fans, writing desk, and cosmetics were all of remarkable quality. Rumor had it this sixth concubine was once the top courtesan, redeemed at great cost by Zhao San, and only recently brought in as the sixth wife. The room was suffused with a subtle amorous atmosphere—half-naked beauties with peachy cheeks were painted on the walls, in seductive poses, pink drapes and intoxicating incense filled the air, making the three men’s blood race. Monkey, however, remained unmoved, walked straight to a painting of a beauty sleeping, studied it for a while, and finally pressed the right hand of the depicted woman.

A sound of springs and mechanisms echoed. Monkey removed the painting, revealing a hidden passage behind it—an ominous, dark tunnel leading who knows where.

“Second Brother, why are you staring at those erotic paintings so intently? Yearning for love? I’ll find you a good match someday!” Li Sanshan teased Zhou Qian.

“These paintings—” Zhou Qian frowned, his cheeks reddening at the suggestive carvings, but something felt amiss.

“This is the entrance to the treasury. I paid dearly for this information from a lowly servant in the Governor’s house. At the bottom of the tunnel are two guards, each with a mechanism trigger. If they aren’t dispatched instantly, three hundred soldiers will come rushing in—then even wings wouldn’t help you escape!” Monkey said meaningfully.

“The iron walls on both sides contain deep-sea magnets; any weapons will be pulled to them, so be careful. Remove all metal items from your person. Follow me. In a moment, I and our skilled friend here will each deal with a guard!” Monkey said earnestly to Zhou Qian, then took out a red brocade rhinoceros battle robe from his pack—a fourth-rank military officer’s uniform, though who knows where he had it made. Once dressed, he pulled his hat brim low, looking every bit the part of an official.

The three removed their metal accessories and followed General Monkey down the passage. Every five or six yards, a torch illuminated the way. After about the time it takes to burn a stick of incense, they approached the exit, where two dark figures could be seen.

Monkey narrowed his eyes, pressed his hat brim, and strode forward.

“Greetings, General!”

“Wait! Who are you?!”

At two shouts, the left guard suddenly realized something was wrong, but the uniform provided excellent cover. As the guard hesitated, a sharp wooden blade flashed and slit his throat. The right guard stared in shock at his companion’s death at the hands of the “Governor.” Before he could react, Zhou Qian charged, executing the Eight Cloud Techniques—eight forces combined—striking sixteen acupoints, sending the guard crashing into the wall and unconscious.