C20 The Situation.

In the afternoon, Chen Xiaozhi arrived at White Deer Private School to pick up his sister Xiaocao, just as he always did.

"Sir," he greeted with a slight smile as Xiaocao bounded out from the courtyard, followed by an elderly man with a kind face. Chen Xiaozhi quickly bowed in respect.

The man was likely the school's teacher.

"There's no need for that. You are of royal descent; it is I who should bow to you," the elder said, cupping his fists. As he began to bow, Chen Xiaozhi swiftly steadied him. "Sir, you..." He was taken aback. Someone in Crowfield recognized him? Sensing Chen Xiaozhi's surprise, Tang Chen offered a faint smile and explained, "I once served in the Ministry of Revenue and had the honor of attending morning court sessions. We've met there, though you may not recall."

"Ah, I see," Chen Xiaozhi acknowledged with a nod. "I entrust my sister to your guidance, sir."

"The little princess is bright and endearing—a delight to teach," Tang Chen remarked with a smile.

Knowing his identity, deducing Xiaocao's wasn't difficult.

After a brief exchange, Chen Xiaozhi was ready to depart with his sister. He didn't know the old man well, and while the man knew of his lineage, it seemed inconsequential.

"Prince, a moment, please," the elder called out just as Chen Xiaozhi turned to leave. "Remember Tian Yihuan, whom you struck? His father, Tian Wuya, is a Hall Master of the Green Bamboo Gang here in Crowfield and quite resourceful. Please exercise caution. And rest assured, I will ensure the little princess remains unharmed." Chen Xiaozhi's eyes flickered with concern as he responded, "Thank you."

This information was crucial.

"Brother, Tian Yihuan wasn't at school today. The teacher said he's home recovering from an illness—quite the relief!" Xiaocao chattered excitedly on their way home.

Chen Xiaozhi offered a gentle smile, but his attention was caught by several familiar figures ahead.

It was Dung Qing'an and his companions from the Hidden Dragon Institute.

They had noticed him, too.

What business did they have in the southern part of the city?

Chen Xiaozhi's brow furrowed.

Both parties paused, but Chen Xiaozhi maintained his composure, ignoring the group and continuing on his way with Xiaocao. Dung Qing'an watched their retreating figures, his eyes flickering with thought.

"Your Highness, why stop us? Now's our chance to teach him a lesson. With our numbers, we can surely take him down. Does he think he's untouchable outside the institute?" one of the youths said, rolling up his sleeves, unwilling to let Chen Xiaozhi walk away so easily. Chen Xiaozhi might have grown stronger, but they had the upper hand in numbers.

"Go back!" Dung Qing'an commanded, his voice icy as he swept his sleeve.

The youths exchanged puzzled glances. In the past, Dung Qing'an would have been the first to urge them into action.

They needed to uncover the expert protecting Chen Xiaozhi.

The memory of his father's old subordinate flying out of Chen Xiaozhi's home and dying violently resurfaced in Dung Qing'an's mind. A chill settled in his heart, and his expression grew even more stern.

"Who's there?!"

Chen Xiaozhi had just turned onto a narrow path after separating from Dung Qing'an and the others when he suddenly spun around, his gaze icy as he spotted a shadowy figure lurking some distance behind. At Chen's sharp call, the figure bolted without a word. Chen didn't pursue; he simply took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Clearly, someone had been tailing him with intent. The question was, who? The Fate Gathering, Tian Wuya, or perhaps someone else...

Upon returning home, he found Mother Zhao had dinner waiting.

Now that the four of them were living together in one courtyard, it felt more like a true family home, complete with the warmth of domestic life.

"After you left, some tried to slip away. I caught them and gave them a good thrashing," Zhao Qi reported soon after arriving, briefing Chen on the day's training.

"Come tomorrow, we'll see far fewer showing up to report. Go door to door, find them, and break their legs! My money isn't that easy to take," Chen instructed with a nonchalant air. He had anticipated this; such intense training would overwhelm most, but to forge strong soldiers, it was necessary.

Only the real men would remain.

"Yes," Zhao Qi acknowledged.

Post-dinner, Chen soaked in a basin of hot water infused with wind meridian powder before beginning to practice the newly acquired footwork technique, Seven Steps to the Stars. His toes lightly touched the ground, and if one looked closely, they'd notice it was just the balls of his feet making contact, each step a delicate dance of twists and turns. His movements seemed to lighten his body significantly. This technique, a prized offering from Mortal Tower worth seven hundred gold, had its advantages. Seven Steps to the Stars was more than just footwork; it was seven distinct stepping techniques, each with its own focal point and posture. Mastering all seven allowed for a fluid, seamless flow of movement.

When perfected, these seven steps could weave together into a tapestry of elusive shadows.

Chen had pored over the technique numerous times, and with the calming effects of the wind meridian powder aiding him, he quickly honed in on the core of the footwork.

Zhao Qi, also soaking in a tub, watched Chen's figure circle the courtyard. What began as a leisurely pace soon quickened, his walk rivaling the speed of a sprint, his steps as swift as flight.

"Intriguing," Chen mused, pausing to wipe sweat from his brow. The muscles in his legs were burning from the exertion, the seven steps proving to be an excellent way to condition his lower body.

"Is Team Leader Chen in?"

Just then, a knock sounded at the courtyard gate, followed by a voice.

Surprised by the late visitor, Chen opened the gate to find a familiar face—a man who introduced himself as Zhang Chao's subordinate—standing respectfully before him. The man handed Chen a letter and promptly departed. Unfolding the paper, Chen read the urgent message from the Green Bamboo Gang.

"What's going on, Young Master?" Zhao Qi called out from a distance.

"It's no big deal. The Green Bamboo Gang and Fate Gathering just clashed at Book and Fragrance Street up north. Zhang Chao sent a heads-up, advising us to stay alert these next few days," Chen Xiaozhi said with a dismissive smile.

The bustling Central Street of Crowfield lay between the city's north and south, making it unlikely for the skirmish to spill over to our side.

But it's odd... The Green Bamboo Gang has been under Fate Gathering's thumb for years, silently bearing grievances. What's given them the courage to suddenly lock horns with Fate Gathering now?

"Young Master, this..." Zhao Qi seemed to have a realization, hesitating as he began to speak. Could the clash be linked to Shi Wei's death? Fate Gathering might be pressuring Green Bamboo Gang, gearing up for retaliation.

"You're overthinking it. I'm just a lowly team leader with no clout in the Green Bamboo Gang. If this was really about me, they'd have thrown me under the bus to apologize by now. There's got to be another reason behind this sudden conflict," Chen Xiaozhi mused, the corner of his mouth lifting. Let Crowfield descend into chaos; it's the perfect cover for him to stir the pot.

...

"Hey, Second Brother Tai, here's some wine for you!" In the brisk morning air of Killing Bull Lane, steam rose and the scent of fresh bread filled the streets. Huddled men and women queued at the breakfast stall for piping hot buns and pancakes. The owner, having just served a customer, passed a small jar of wine.

"Since when did you start selling wine?" Second Brother Tai asked, taken aback.

"Just take it, on the house!" the owner chuckled.

"I'll take a jar too!" the other men chimed in, crowding around eagerly.

"Easy now, there's plenty for everyone."

The owner cleared his throat.

As time ticked by and more shops opened their doors, the locals all came to know that every store in Killing Bull Lane was giving away free wine—a divine brew so delicious it was beyond compare. Word spread like wildfire, and soon enough, even the lushes from the southern parts of Crowfield were making a beeline for the lane. Chen Xiaozhi arrived at the scene fully anticipating the chaos, but the spectacle still took him aback.

He had serendipitously discovered that adding wind meridian powder to ordinary wine transformed its flavor into something extraordinary. More importantly, this concoction wasn't just harmless—it actually had a nourishing and soothing effect.

"Hahaha, I snagged some!"

"This one's mine!"

"No shoving—let's do this orderly!"

The usually deserted street was now bustling with activity. The storefronts were lined with eager patrons, their clamoring voices creating a cacophony. Disputes broke out over the wine, while others guzzled it down on the spot, and a few old-time drunkards burst into wild laughter.

Chen Xiaozhi managed to weave through the throng and finally made it into the factory yard.

"Young Master, just as you predicted, we've had over a dozen deserters."

Upon entering the training ground, Chen Xiaozhi noted that only thirty-nine of his original sixty-plus followers remained. It seemed yesterday's training had cast a long shadow for some.

"Take a couple of people and handle it," Chen Xiaozhi commanded.

"Understood." Zhao Qi's expression chilled as he summoned two others and departed.

Meanwhile, Chen Xiaozhi pressed on with the training of his thirty-nine subordinates, wondering how much longer they could last...

A little over two hours later, Zhao Qi returned with a dozen individuals who had failed to report in, all bound tightly. It was well-known that Zhao Qi was a talent Chen Xiaozhi held in high regard. The trials he had faced in the last two days were far more daunting than anything these men had encountered. Yet, Zhao Qi's resolve was firm, showing no hint of weakness. His strength, honed even in the heat of the moment, now far exceeded that of these frail, chronically undernourished men.

"Everyone, halt," Chen Xiaozhi called out, seated in a rattan chair. He gestured for the thirty-nine men, mid frog-jump, to line up in front of him.

"Boss, I..."

"The money will be returned to you."

Chen Xiaozhi rose and approached the group that was bound and kneeling.

As they caught Chen Xiaozhi's stern gaze, four or five of them nervously gulped, stammering out pleas.

Crack!

Unmoved, Chen Xiaozhi stepped forward, his powerful leg coming down hard on one man's knee.

A scream pierced the air as the man's knee and lower leg snapped, the bone gruesomely misshapen.

Chen Xiaozhi first disabled the man's legs, then, indifferent to his fate, moved on to the next.

Minutes ticked by.

One by one, Chen Xiaozhi shattered their kneecaps.

The air filled with their agonized howls as they writhed on the ground, some passing out from the pain.

"Throw them out," Chen Xiaozhi said coolly, settling back into his chair.

Zhao Qi nodded, hauling the injured away.

"I expect none of you to be the ones thrown out tomorrow."

Chen Xiaozhi's words sent a shiver down the spines of the thirty-nine men.