Chapter Sixty-Six: Unexpected

When Zhou Qian and his companions rushed onto the deck, it was packed with people, voices clamoring and echoing everywhere. Wang Hu, clad in black attire suited for night missions, stood with his hands bound behind him, a trace of blood at the corner of his mouth. The beggar clan members and those closest to him encircled Wang Hu protectively, wary eyes fixed on Wei Guang and his group.

“Brother Hu…” Zhou Qian muttered under his breath.

“So it's Brother Zhou and Elder Lou who have arrived. But alas, you’re a bit late,” Wei Guang remarked with a peacock's proud flourish, his face alight with a smile.

“You little brat from the Tang Clan, this is no place for your games! Release him immediately!” Lou Yuxiao spoke in a deep voice. The Beggar Clan’s influence spanned the realm; their connections were vast, and their reputation as the foremost sect in the heartlands was nearly unassailable. Their leader, Tu Yong, was a man of great ability and known for his fierce vengeance. Lou Yuxiao had no desire to witness a catastrophic conflict between Tang Clan and Beggar Clan in the martial world’s future.

Lou Yuxiao frowned, casting a glance toward Fei Yue, the Tang Clan’s vice master. What was his intention? Without his guidance, Wei Guang would never have dared to commit such a public affront.

“Brother Lou, perhaps you should let my nephew finish his explanation?” Fei Yue, noticing Lou Yuxiao’s look, replied with an amiable smile.

Wei Guang, emboldened, raised his voice, “This esteemed disciple of the Beggar Clan’s master has always seemed suspicious to me, so I’ve watched him secretly for days. Finally, the true culprit couldn’t restrain himself, appearing last night dressed for stealth, presumably to commit yet another murder. We acted swiftly and captured him in one stroke!”

The crowd erupted in uproar. The events of recent days had unsettled even the most seasoned of the martial world: the battle on the river, Lady Hu’s brutal death, Mouse’s assassination, the fire aboard the Sandbird Tower barge, Xiang Feihe’s capture—now the supposed mastermind was a Beggar Clan disciple? Tu Yong’s pupil, no less. Could the Beggar Clan be entangled in all this?

“First Brother Xiang, now Wang Hu—what are you people trying to do?” Iron Staff Zhao Hei bellowed, his eyes reddened. He was Xiang Feihe’s closest companion and had drowned his grief in drink since Xiang’s demise. Now, with another alleged killer, was Xiang Feihe wronged? What were these leaders playing at?

The surrounding crowd joined in the agitation, making Zhou Qian frown deeply. The martial folk seemed at their limits. Without a reasonable explanation, they’d disperse in a riot, abandon all talk of grand causes. Loyalty was all well and good, but if no loyalty was reciprocated, no one would blame them for withholding respect.

“Fool! You understand nothing. The real culprit is Wang Hu,” Wei Guang retorted sharply. “As for Xiang Feihe, he was merely a decoy to draw attention.”

“Evidence!” Zhou Qian demanded. “Brother Hu may have had a secret mission for the Beggar Clan—perhaps he’s bound by duties he cannot reveal. Besides, I grew up with Brother Hu; I trust his character implicitly. He’s no petty villain!”

“Hmph! The killer has long eluded capture, and I’ve wondered why,” Wei Guang sneered. “Now I suspect someone has been shielding him, disregarding martial honor!”

“Fine! You want evidence? I’ll give you evidence!” Wei Guang reveled in the attention.

“Five nights ago, when Lady Hu was murdered, you were absent from the feast. Where were you? Can anyone vouch for you?” Wei Guang pointed at Wang Hu.

“In my own quarters. No witnesses,” Wang Hu replied, expressionless.

“When Lady Hu screamed before her death, everyone rushed to her room. Where were you then? Qiqiao, you tell it.”

Zhou Qian hesitated, frowning at Qiqiao. She gave him an apologetic glance and spoke slowly, “At that moment, I was with Young Hero Zhou at the bow. Upon hearing Lady Hu’s cry, we rushed over and happened to see Brother Wang hurrying out, though I don’t know why.”

“Oh? Ha, how very interesting—a coincidence, perhaps. Was Brother Hu on his way to the feast at that exact moment?” Wei Guang teased.

“That’s exactly what happened,” Wang Hu replied sullenly.

“Well! I believe Brother Hu’s words,” Wei Guang declared, then abruptly shifted tone. “But how do you explain this dagger?”

Wei Guang signaled with his eyes, and a water bandit quickly presented the dagger used by Mouse.

“Everyone, you must recognize this dagger—it’s Mouse’s personal weapon. Yesterday, I consulted my uncle Fei Yue, who is an expert in weapon forging. He determined this blade is forged from fiery iron, cold and durable, impossible to bend except by a master of palm techniques. I know there are several top martial artists aboard,” Wei Guang glanced at Zhou Qian, Lou Yuxiao, and Fei Yue, “but even they couldn’t bend it with their bare hands.”

“And after investigation, there are only eight palm masters on the ship capable of such a feat!”

“Five were confirmed at the feast that night. Giant Spirit Palm Qiao Rui was playing cards in his room with three others, so no suspicion there. Iron Palm Zhang Feng was practicing on deck—though unseen, the night guard can vouch for him, and even Inspector Wu spoke with him, which counts as testimony.”

“So,” Wei Guang’s eyes blazed, “as the inheritor of the Beggar Clan’s Surging Wave Palm, Brother Wang Hu, where were you then? And who fought Mouse that night?”

Wang Hu remained silent for a moment. “It was me. But I did not kill Lady Hu or Mouse.”

“Oh?” Wei Guang said, his tone layered with implication.

“But wasn’t the murderer from the Red Lotus Sect? And what about the token?” Fang Feifei objected, still bitter about that night, eager to see Tang Clan humbled.

“Hmph! That sort of token? Name your number—I can have as many carved as you wish!” Fei Yue interjected unexpectedly.

“Enough!” Beggar Clan’s three-bag disciple Qiao Shan shouted angrily, glaring around. “Before coming, the clan master told me there was a secret task for Xiao Hu, a confidential matter not to be revealed to anyone! Wang Hu is the master’s pupil—among tens of thousands of Beggar Clan members, he commands respect. Why would he need to kill a courtesan or an assassin? Or are there friends here intent on crossing the Beggar Clan?”

The restless crowd began to settle. The Beggar Clan, immense as it was, evoked caution even among the powerful present. Moreover, the old beggar’s words made sense; the Beggar Clan’s strength and status, and their role in organizing this operation—many aboard had joined out of loyalty to them. Now, the clan master’s disciple opposed or sabotaged the mission? Absurd!

“I think, in fact, this matter does concern the Beggar Clan,” Fei Yue suddenly interjected. “Two days ago, someone sought me out. Mr. Tu, why not say a few words?”

“Master Fei, you’re throwing me into the fire,” Mr. Tu replied with a wry smile. “I am Tu Yue, known in the martial world as the Rainfall Sword. But I have another identity—one of the twenty-six brocade-captains of Six Gates, codename Qilin.”

“An official?”

“Why would a government agent be aboard the Sandbird Tower barge? Is the court and the underworld one and the same?”

“The court meddling in martial affairs again—damnable!”

Discussions broke out everywhere. The martial folk had complex feelings toward the current dynasty. On one hand, the court had once expelled foreign invaders and restored the central plains, relying on the southern martial sects, creating a bond of gratitude. On the other, with the rise of the Han King and the flourishing new dynasty, the court’s increasing infiltration and surveillance of the martial world caused much unease.

“Everyone, I am half a martial man myself—I understand the code,” Tu Yue said loudly. “Martial affairs should be resolved by martial folk. But what if the matter has grown beyond the martial world? Suppose a great sect is secretly conspiring rebellion?”

Rebellion? A great sect? Which one? Beggar Clan?

“Of course, everything is my own speculation,” Tu Yue continued, “but some things must be clarified!”

“On April fifth, a Jin Yi Wei agent found some ten-year-old letters at a martial man’s home in Jiangxi, each line concerning treason. Alarmed, the agent sent word to headquarters.”

“On the seventh, Jin Yi Wei Commander Peng received the message. He dared not decide alone, so he reported to the Emperor. The Emperor ordered Six Gates to take charge.”

“Ten white-clad Jin Yi Wei agents and twenty-six brocade-captains infiltrated the martial world in full force; Eastern Depot, Jin Yi Wei, Divine Strategy Inner Guard, Six Gates, and the Ministry’s Inspectorate all mobilized. In April, May, and June, they searched nearly half the martial world.”

“On May fourteenth in Daning, June seventh in Tongcheng, June fifteenth in Xining, they found stockpiles of weapons and provisions. The evidence did not point to Red Lotus Sect or other evil factions—but hinted at the Beggar Clan!”

“The current clan master Tu Yong, thirty years ago when heroes vied for supremacy, raised the banner and occupied Lingnan, known as ‘King Tu.’ Though persuaded by Linghu Ye and Zhou Xun to disband and renounce his ambition, times change. With the First Emperor’s treasure at stake, who knows what he now desires?”

“And his disciple, Wang Hu, has acted suspiciously these days—forcing me to reveal my identity. Otherwise, I fear the consequences would be dire.”

“My Tang Clan received word of a secret: years ago, Lady Hu, kind-hearted, sheltered an old woman—who was the last beloved daughter of the late Hu dynasty’s emperor, Princess Ciqing, known as Cha’er Qing Tie Muer. The princess was of mixed Hu and Han blood, gentle and beloved among her people. Her kindness preserved the last Hu bloodline during the great wars. But I worry someone may exploit this, using her as a banner to invite foreign invasion. If you doubt me, investigate the Flower Moon Pavilion yourselves for the truth.”

“Days ago, I, Young Hero Mo, and Elder Lou uncovered a murderer’s lair aboard. To lull the killer’s suspicions, we kept it secret. We learned the mastermind has a drug or secret art to control others—the arson in the cabin was committed by my controlled subordinate. I suspect only a vast power like the Beggar Clan could unravel such methods—”

Mouse and Lady Hu’s murders are easy to explain: the Beggar Clan is a righteous sect, so who would suspect its deputy? And Wang Hu, to keep his true intentions hidden, killed Mouse—to prevent recognition and to confuse the investigation,” Wei Guang interjected, though his logic was somewhat forced. Even assassins and courtesans dwell in the martial world’s shadows; their status was never so high that even the Emperor himself could not command such influence.

Lou Yuxiao felt cold to his bones—truth and lies, lies and truth, flaws mattered little. If the crowd believed, it became truth; if not, it was false. The court needed to weaken the Beggar Clan, the Tang Clan to remove rivals, and even the martial folk on board needed a ‘real’ culprit to vent their anger.

What is truth? What is falsehood? If all believe, it is true; if none, it is false.

Tang Clan, the court, water bandits—a scheme so vast could never be orchestrated by a mere youth like Wei Guang! Fei Yue suddenly turned to Lou Yuxiao with a secretive smile—

It was him!

It truly was him!

Even Wei Guang was now genuinely awed by his uncle. He recalled his uncle’s words, “You are the future master of Tang Clan. Every decision you make will shape the clan’s fate. If you act, act thoroughly, leaving no hidden dangers! Just like the best hidden weapons we craft—each is designed for a single deadly strike!”

Mo Shaoguan instinctively felt something was wrong. What he knew did not match this narrative—or not entirely. Lou Yuxiao, clinging to his last shred of reason, restrained Mo Shaoguan, stopping the furious Beggar Clan disciples. This round was lost—lost beyond argument. Now, no one could reverse the tide. All that remained was to safeguard Wang Hu’s life until they reached shore. If Wang Hu were slain by enraged martial folk, not even Tu Yong or Zhou Xun could protest.

In that moment, the banners changed atop the city wall. Zhou Qian withdrew into seclusion, Wang Hu was locked in the deepest cell of the ship, and Wei Guang and his uncle basked in newfound glory, their influence aboard growing daily.

Another day and night passed. Tomorrow, the tower barge would reach Mount Li; in the darkness, the massive mountain silhouette loomed over the river.

The Sandbird Tower’s prison was prepared for traitors—filthy, stinking, bloodstained instruments of torture everywhere. Wang Hu, disheveled and grimy, lay on the cold ground, hands and feet bound with ox sinew, his wrists already bruised purple.

Suddenly, three hidden weapons shot from the shadows, lightning-fast toward Wang Hu. He opened his tiger eyes and dodged in desperation.

“Well?” a raspy voice sounded in the dark. “Not as good as your genius brother, but not bad. Even now, you still have spirit. No wonder Tu Yong took you as a disciple.”

“Don’t worry, your master will avenge you. Dealing with Tang Clan—”

Another dozen hidden weapons shot from every direction, leaving no escape. Bound hand and foot, Wang Hu could only shut his eyes and wait for death.

A flash of sword light, like moonlight in the darkness, danced and blossomed into dozens of sword flowers, striking the hidden weapons aside with precision.

“And then the Beggar Clan is destroyed by the court and Tang Clan, both suffering greatly, while the Red Lotus Sect rises in the chaos. Am I right?” Zhou Qian’s silhouette emerged from the shadows.

“The real mastermind, or perhaps—Miss Qiqiao…”