Martial Sovereign of the Turbulent World

Chapter 173: Chapter 171: Various Factions Gather

A man with thick brows and piercing eyes brought out a long, apricot-yellow incense stick as thick as a forearm and forcefully planted it in the giant incense burner on the long table.

The long incense stick remained unlit. The family members and relatives were all asked to step down from the platform, and the crowd of people from the Martial Arts world also left one after another.

In the end, Zhao Jigang was the only one left on the vast Xuanwu Platform.

He sat straight-backed in the Taishi Chair before the long table, his expression as still as water, silently looking down over the scene below.

The base of the Xuanwu Platform was completely shrouded in heavy black cloth, and people from the Martial Arts world stood guard on nearly every stone step.

In the open ground around the Xuanwu Platform, a dense, dark ring of onlookers had gathered. Besides common folk, there were also many dressed in Western suits and fine, splendid attire.

Rickshaws, horse-drawn carriages, and Western automobiles were parked all around. The prime viewing spots at the front were almost all occupied by the private guards and bodyguards of various families. They had set up their own viewing stands. There were also newspaper reporters with cameras, and even some Westerners.

The seconds ticked by.

Finally, the roar of a car engine sounded, and everyone below the platform turned toward the noise.

On the Xuanwu Platform, Zhao Jigang lifted his eyelids slightly.

He raised a hand. "Beat the drums."

The eighteen great drums already positioned below the Xuanwu Platform were immediately struck with heavy mallets. The drumbeats were deep and resonant, overlapping in waves that spread a palpable, grim killing intent through the air.

At the same time, several groups of men were seen slowly pressing in toward the Xuanwu Platform from various directions.

.....

Fu Juemin got out of the car, narrowing his eyes at the stone Xuanwu Platform directly ahead.

In that instant, God only knew how many pairs of eyes were fixed upon him.

The continuous flashing of camera bulbs made him frown. He casually beckoned over a man from the Qinglian Gang and gave a few orders. Soon, a group of vicious-looking men stepped out from behind him, rushing toward several spots in the crowd. A series of sharp cracks from smashing cameras and muffled grunts of pain immediately followed.

Fu Juemin paid it no mind, strolling forward under the countless gazes.

A man dressed like an advisor was loudly directing Qinglian Gang members to set up chairs on the open ground facing the Xuanwu Platform. They placed small tables, some made tea, others served snacks, and then they began guiding the "supporters" to their seats one by one.

Madam Ding was standing to the side. Fu Juemin walked over and called out, "Aunt Ding."

Madam Ding gave him a slight nod, her eyes still fixed in a certain direction.

Fu Juemin followed her gaze and saw two other groups of people making their entrance on the other side.

One group was entirely dressed in indigo-blue short jackets, with standard-issue short blades at their waists. They approached like a slow-moving, turbid blue cloud.

Fu Juemin didn’t need to ask to know that this group must be the Blue-clothed Gang, one of the three major gangs in Shenghai, alongside the Qinglian Gang and the Woodcutter Gang.

Although Aunt Ding had said the Woodcutter Gang were the eyes and ears in the city propped up by Luo Zhengxiong, in reality, conflicts between the Blue-clothed Gang and the Qinglian Gang were far more frequent.

The reason was simple. Both were long-established powers in Shenghai, and for years, they had constantly clashed over business and territory, leading to a deep well of old hatred and resentment.

"Is that the Gang Leader of the Blue-clothed Gang?"

Leading the Blue-clothed Gang was a pair of ugly twin men, neither of whom stood taller than one-and-a-half meters. Their skin was pitch-black, their bellies were round as balls, and their faces were covered in lumps.

The two wore identical black robes. Perhaps because their legs were so short, the hems dragged on the ground as they walked, their bodies swaying back and forth in a ridiculously comical way.

Fu Juemin stared at the pair for a moment. He felt there was something about them that was inexplicably familiar, but for the life of him, he couldn’t recall what it was.

"The one behind them is."

Madam Ding pointed to a gaunt, pale-skinned man with a chilling aura who was following closely behind the two short, fat, ugly men. She frowned. "The Blue-clothed Gang has an elder I don’t recognize? Someone with seniority even greater than Bai Hexing’s?"

Just then, the two ugly men in the distance turned, revealing the short queues on the backs of their heads and the white toad emblems embroidered on the backs of their robes.

Fu Juemin’s gaze tightened. "Toad Palace!"

"Are you sure?"

Madam Ding turned to look at him. Fu Juemin nodded, his expression calm. "I don’t believe I’m mistaken."

He had once encountered a Gratitude Sensing Realm master from Toad Palace downstream on the Su River, and he finally understood what felt so familiar about these two ugly men.

—It was the same air he’d sensed from that Gratitude adept from Toad Palace, an aura of arrogance and decay that could only be nurtured under the strict regulations of the former dynasty’s inner court.

Add to that the queues on the back of their heads and the toad emblems on their robes... there was little room for doubt.

"So Bai Hexing has really made something of himself, managing to cozy up to the remnants of the former dynasty."

Madam Ding, who was of course aware of Toad Palace, let out a soft snort, her gaze growing cold.

Fu Juemin thought for a moment, then said, "The Blue-clothed Gang has also been searching for the ’Fish-Belly Gold’. Maybe they received orders from their backers in Toad Palace. Now that the Blue-clothed Gang has a chance to put the boot to the Qinglian Gang, they’ve brought people from Toad Palace over for support..."

"It’s possible."

Madam Ding nodded, her eyes flashing as she became lost in thought.

If the leader of the Blue-clothed Gang had merely vacated the main seat to occupy a secondary one, then the leader of the Woodcutter Gang had been reduced to nothing more than a common lackey.

The Woodcutter Gang made their entrance, led by a blond, blue-eyed Westerner—the very director from the Public Concession Engineering Bureau whom Zhao Jigang and the others had invited.

Walking abreast of the Westerner was a tall young man in his twenties.

He had an extremely short buzz cut and wore a trench coat over a white shirt, with military boots on his feet. A gold earring glinted conspicuously from his left earlobe, and his face was a mask of arrogant defiance.

’Luo Chengying.’

As Fu Juemin looked at the young man, the name immediately surfaced in his mind.

Luo Chengying and the Westerner director seemed to be quite familiar with each other, chatting and laughing merrily the whole way. Once they entered the grounds, the Westerner was guided to a notary’s platform off to the side.

Luo Chengying, with no hesitation, plopped himself down brazenly in the Woodcutter Gang’s main seat. He stared across at Fu Juemin, his face breaking into an undisguised, cold sneer.

And Chai Xiong, the Gang Leader of the Woodcutter Gang, a man known for his ferocity, stood respectfully at Luo Chengying’s side, hands clasped. He even poured tea for him personally, his posture one of utmost humility.

Fu Juemin took one look and then averted his gaze.

For Fu Juemin’s challenge today, Madam Ding had given an order, and the elites from the Qinglian Gang’s various halls had gathered—several hundred strong at least.

The Woodcutter Gang and the Blue-clothed Gang had brought similar numbers. With the three factions all gathered at the Xuanwu Platform, the crowd of spectators, who had already settled into their spots, were forced back another full circle.

Nearly every man in the three factions was armed with a blade or a club, some even with guns. The challenge hadn’t even started, yet the air was already thick with the smell of gunpowder.

"Let me introduce you to some people."

After watching the other two factions make their entrance, Madam Ding took Fu Juemin by the hand and turned toward the Qinglian Gang’s own contingent.

By now, the seats on the Qinglian Gang’s side were filled with the "supporters" for the challenge—all of them dressed as Martial Artists, their auras focused and intense. Their strengths ranged from the Blood Barrier to the Tongxuan realm, and Zhang Yi was prominently seated among them.

Some of these people were Madam Ding’s own trusted men, drawn from the major halls under her command. The rest were outside help, recruited through connections and mutual interests.

Madam Ding had Fu Juemin cup his fist in salute to these men as a formality, then led him to the seat of honor at the very head of the Supporting Seat section.

An old man was seated there, dressed in a long, floral-patterned satin robe. A yellow bamboo cane lay across his lap, and his eyelids drooped as if he were asleep.

"Lingjun, this is Elder Feng, one of our Qinglian Gang’s Guardian Elders. He is a Great Martial Family of the Gratitude Sensing Realm.

"Elder Feng made a special trip out of seclusion today just for you. He’s here to hold down the fort and make sure no outsiders try to take advantage of you..."

Fu Juemin smiled, giving the old man in the chair a cupped-fist salute. "Elder Feng," he called out.

At the sound, the old man merely lifted his drooping eyelids, scanned him from head to toe, then said nothing and let his gaze fall once more.

Madam Ding didn’t seem to mind. She continued to exchange a few polite pleasantries with the old man before leading Fu Juemin to the main seat beside him.

By this time, all parties had arrived, and the drumming below the Xuanwu Platform gradually ceased.

The Westerner in the notary’s seat stood up and began spouting a stream of unintelligible gibberish. A translator stood beside him, simultaneously relaying his words through a Copper Trumpet.

It was mostly just talk about ensuring the challenge was conducted fairly, justly, and openly.

Finding it all rather dull, Fu Juemin let his gaze wander over the surroundings. Suddenly, his eyes locked onto one spot in the crowd. He froze for a second, a look of genuine surprise crossing his face.

Where Fu Juemin’s gaze had landed, a woman in a simple, lined cheongsam stood gracefully, her lovely face composed and solemn.

Seeing him looking her way, the woman nodded in acknowledgement.

It was Su Hui.

It was the first time Fu Juemin had seen Su Hui since coming to Shenghai.

’I can’t believe she came to watch the show, too.’