Chapter 168: Chapter 166: Aftermath, the Wind Rises
Patrol Police, covering their noses and mouths with handkerchiefs or sleeves, dragged corpses one by one from a ruin of splintered wood and mangled flesh, tossing them onto nearby stretchers.
An occasional rough movement would cause a large, dark-red stain to quickly spread across the white sheet of a stretcher, triggering another round of heart-wrenching wails or suppressed gags from the onlookers.
Some had truly fainted from crying, while others had already run out of tears, their eyes staring blankly at the sky. Of course, there were also those putting on a show for others—decked out in jewels and wailing loud enough to shake the heavens, but beneath the handkerchiefs covering their faces, not a single tear fell. A flash of irrepressible glee might even flicker across their features from time to time...
Such are the ways of the world, and the hearts of the powerful.
In a place quite a distance from the gruesome scene, someone was shouting in a shrill voice.
"The killer is Fu Lingjun! Those armed thugs were clearly his men!"
"Steward Zhao, are you aware that it was Young Master Fu who first reported the incident and asked our Public Security Bureau to send men over? Besides, he’s also one of the victims of this riot..."
"A victim?!"
The man called Steward Zhao almost laughed in fury, a vein throbbing on his temple. "He’s a thief crying ’stop thief!’ A golden cicada shedding its shell!"
He couldn’t be bothered to argue with the junior patrolman any longer. He turned directly to a middle-aged man standing nearby, who was dressed in a well-tailored dark uniform, looked impeccably well-kept, and carried himself with an impressive air. "Minister He," he said coldly, "several of our Martial Arts brethren who personally witnessed the event and survived the slaughter can come forward and identify that Fu Lingjun!
I must ask you to dispatch men to arrest him and bring him to justice at once. You must give our Shenghai Martial Realm an account for this matter! Otherwise..."
Before he could finish, the man opposite him spat directly in his face.
"Who the hell do you think you are, demanding an account from me?"
The man sneered, his gaze falling like a knife on Steward Zhao’s face. "You want me to order the Public Security Bureau to arrest someone based on the flapping gums of a few so-called witnesses?
By your logic, hundreds, if not thousands, of people at the scene heard those killers shouting Luo Chengying’s name. Should I go directly to the Jianghai Defense Command and demand Commander Luo hand someone over?"
Steward Zhao was so choked with indignation his face turned beet red. He didn’t even dare to wipe away the spittle on his cheek. His earlier imposing demeanor vanished completely, leaving him standing rigidly on the spot.
Having finished his tirade, the man’s expression returned to one of cold indifference. He glanced toward a certain direction in the distance and said coolly, "This case has had an extremely negative impact. The Public Security Bureau will, of course, devote all its resources to the investigation.
But how and when we conduct it is not for outsiders to dictate.
If you’re so certain the killer is Fu Lingjun... then if you have the guts, go after him yourselves. Heh..."
With that, seemingly unwilling to waste another moment on the man before him, he gave a casual signal and led his men into a car waiting nearby.
Steward Zhao’s face was grim as he watched the car disappear in a cloud of dust. Shame, indignation, and rage nearly burst from his eyes.
He strode quickly toward a spot in the square.
There—a dozen or so corpses covered in blood-soaked white sheets were lined up on the ground. Family members crowded around them, wailing inconsolably. The survivors, including a grim-faced Zhou Feibai, stood to one side, surrounded by other members of the Martial Arts community who were either still shaken or filled with righteous indignation.
The steward walked straight up behind a navy-blue figure who stood with his hands clasped behind his back. With hatred in his eyes, he said, "Master, He Renli is clearly trying to shield him. He absolutely refuses to admit this has anything to do with Fu Lingjun..."
"He Renli is Wen Zhiqiu’s confidant and is in league with Ding Moshan. It’s no surprise he’d protect one of their own."
Someone in the crowd interjected with a cold laugh. "But if he wants to help, he’ll need to have the ability to back it up.
This time, our Martial Arts world lost over a dozen hall masters and sect leaders. Elder Zhou and Elder Qin barely escaped with their lives, and Hall Master Shi was shot dozens of times. He’s still hovering at the gates of Yama Hall!
This blood debt should be more than enough to get Commander Luo’s attention, right?"
"Yes! We must ask Commander Luo to uphold justice!" a chorus of agreement immediately arose.
All eyes focused on the man in the navy-blue long gown.
The man looked to be in his early forties. He wasn’t tall, but he had a broad frame, and as he stood there silently, he exuded a heavy, profound sense of majesty, like a mountain. This was none other than the current president of the Shenghai Martial Dao Association, Zhao Jigang.
At that moment, Zhao Jigang was looking down at a white-sheeted corpse by his feet. His face was impassive, and no one could discern the emotions surging in the depths of his eyes.
After a long moment, Zhao Jigang finally spoke, his voice flat. "Elder Zhou, what are your thoughts?"
A sharp glint flashed in Zhou Feibai’s eyes as he stood to the side. He replied slowly, "That little bastard... he’s certainly ruthless. He even dared to kill a Western consul. At my age, I nearly took a trip to death’s door myself.
However..."
Zhou Feibai’s tone suddenly shifted. "This matter... we absolutely cannot trouble Commander Luo with it. We must settle this ourselves."
"Why?"
Someone frowned and couldn’t help but ask, "Elder Zhou, do you think this matter isn’t serious enough? That not enough people have died?"
Zhou Feibai shook his head. "It’s serious enough.
But that little bastard is as cunning as a demon. He smeared Young Master Luo’s name before he even made his move, and afterward, he left no evidence to be found. Trying to take him down through official channels would be exceedingly difficult.
Besides, and this is the most important point..."
Zhou Feibai paused, scanning the crowd. "Commander Luo wants people who can solve his problems, not fools who do nothing but create them for him.
If we go crying to his door over this, it will only make our Martial Arts world look incompetent and useless."
"Elder Zhou... you think just as I do."
Zhao Jigang’s voice was steady. "Then in your opinion, Elder Zhou, how should we settle this?"
"If we can’t get him through official channels, then we’ll make trouble for him outside of them.
If everything in this world required evidence and had to go through the government, then what would be the point of us practicing the Martial Dao?"
A cold glint flashed in Zhou Feibai’s eyes as he spoke slowly, his tone flat. "Matters of the martial world should be handled by the rules of the martial world."
Hearing this, Zhao Jigang finally lifted his gaze from the white sheet at his feet. He slowly raised his head and said calmly, "Then as Elder Zhou says. Martial world matters will be settled by the martial world.
Send word. Tell them the Martial Arts Association is reopening the Xuanwu Platform!
We will seek justice for our comrades who were unjustly killed by the guns of the Qinglian Gang thugs!"
With that, he turned and walked away, not sparing another glance at the ground.
It was as if the cold, lifeless body beneath that white sheet was not the corpse of Zhao Jigang’s own son.
...
「Early morning on a street in the Shenghai Public Concession.」
A trolley car, its overhead lines crackling with faint blue sparks, glided smoothly along gleaming tracks. The horns of automobiles honked intermittently, and rickshaws weaved nimbly as eels through the gaps in traffic and crowds...
The streets bustled with vehicles and pedestrians, a picture of prosperity and peace.
Suddenly, a small, skinny figure ran to a lamppost on the street corner and shouted at the top of his lungs, "Extra! Extra! A shocking massacre! The Martial Arts Association meeting turns into a slaughterhouse!"
"Read all about it! Latest news! The Shenghai Martial Arts Association gathering, washed in blood by armed thugs! Dozens dead and injured! The venue turned into a butcher’s yard!"
"Zhao Tianpeng, one of the former Four Young Masters of Shenghai and son of the Martial Dao Association president, is dead! The true mastermind remains shrouded in suspicion!"
The shouts were like a giant boulder thrown into a placid pond, instantly causing a massive uproar.
People who had been walking normally down the street began to flock toward the shouting newsboy.
Comments