Chapter 2: The Conditions for Saving a Life

Hearing that his sister-in-law had met with trouble, Chen Tiansheng’s expression darkened.

Gu Niang, his sister-in-law Gu Xue, had taken him in after his elder brother Chen Changqing was executed at the execution ground. She had rented two large tile-roofed rooms for them in Xia’er Village outside the city, and toiled away at odd jobs in the teahouse by the city gate to eke out a living, raising him with tireless dedication. Two months ago, Gu Xue had started working as a washerwoman at the Zhang family’s dyeing workshop in the west of the city.

The chubby boy of his own age before him was Zhao Daqiang, the landlord’s son. Honest and straightforward, Zhao Daqiang was as close as a brother to him and would never joke about such matters.

The Zhang family in the west of the city had once run a modest fruit stall. Ten years ago, their eldest son was discovered to have talent for cultivation and entered the immortal sect, bringing prosperity to the whole family. Now, the Zhangs were a prominent household in the city, their enterprises spread throughout Qingzhou Prefecture. The second son, Zhang Chengnan, lacked cultivation talent, but, benefiting from his brother’s fortune, had become a notorious bully in Qingzhou, infamous for forcibly abducting virtuous women.

Some time ago, Chen Tiansheng had heard from several old women at the village entrance that his sister-in-law was being harassed by Zhang Chengnan at the dyeing workshop. At home, however, Gu Xue had never spoken of any trouble at work, and he had dismissed the rumors as idle gossip. Unexpectedly, the matter was real!

“Brother Sheng, let’s report this to the authorities!” Zhao Daqiang said, his tone indignant. He had no kinship with Gu Xue, but Chen Tiansheng was his only friend. Ever since Chen Tiansheng, with wisdom beyond their years, had saved him from drowning as a child, he considered him a brother—his brother’s family was his own.

Report to the authorities?

Chen Tiansheng paused, a hint of mockery flashing in his eyes.

If the law were useful, who would bother cultivating immortals?

With that pause, Zhao Daqiang could not budge Chen Tiansheng, stumbling and nearly falling. Zhao Daqiang’s frame was more than twice Chen Tiansheng’s; though plump, he possessed the strength of a grown man, able to turn a two-hundred-pound millstone with his arms. Even now, single-handed, he could easily pull an ordinary adult, so the current situation was unusual.

“What’s wrong, Brother Sheng?” Zhao Daqiang was not surprised at failing to move Chen Tiansheng; for two years now, he had never won a contest of strength against him, from incredulity to acceptance.

“The Zhang family has someone in the immortal sect and enjoys privileges under the state’s laws. Over the years, they’ve committed countless vile deeds that should have led to their downfall, but instead, they thrive. Reporting to the authorities is useless,” Chen Tiansheng said gravely. Though unwilling to accept it, he had to admit this was a world ruled by the strong—laws and regulations always favored them.

In short, cultivation was supreme!

“I get it. The authorities and the Zhang family are maggots in the same pit!” Zhao Daqiang scratched his head, then suddenly understood. “Brother Sheng, you’re so clever. I never thought of that. I nearly made a mess of things…”

Just as he spoke, Chen Tiansheng clamped a hand over Zhao Daqiang’s mouth. “It’s good you understand, but keep it quiet. Beware of losing your tongue.”

Zhao Daqiang shrank back in fear, nodding repeatedly, his mouth tightly shut.

Glancing around and seeing no one paying attention, Chen Tiansheng finally breathed easy.

If a malicious ear heard and reported them to the authorities, at best they’d be slapped, at worst they’d rot in prison.

This was not a world of equality; strength was everything. Without it, one had to tread carefully even in speech.

Zhao Daqiang was straightforward, young, and inexperienced, prone to mistakes. But Chen Tiansheng was different—he had lived as a university student for over twenty years in his previous life, and had survived in this world for another decade. His temperament was mature, streetwise, and he understood the intricacies of society.

“So what now? If Gu Niang falls into that lecher’s hands and we don’t rescue her…” Zhao Daqiang was anxious. Though blunt, he was not stupid; he feared hurting Chen Tiansheng and didn’t mention the worst outcome.

Chen Tiansheng understood his intent and, moved, patted his shoulder. After a moment’s thought, he asked, “When was my sister-in-law taken, and where?”

“About half an hour ago. Gu Niang was forcibly taken from the dyeing workshop by that lecher and brought into the city. When I entered the city just now, I asked Old Drunkard Beggar; he said the lecher’s carriage headed south to Yongle Street, likely to his newly purchased private residence. They should have just arrived,” Zhao Daqiang explained without concealment.

Old Drunkard Beggar was a wine-loving, eccentric beggar at the east gate. He possessed an uncanny ability to remember faces—anyone who gave him a bowl of wine and described a person’s features could get an accurate account of their entry or exit at the gate within the past ten days.

The world was full of marvels. Chen Tiansheng had never personally tested Old Drunkard Beggar’s abilities, but neither dismissed nor fully believed them.

Given that Zhang Chengnan and his men had entered the city recently and were well-known, it was unlikely Old Drunkard Beggar would mistake them.

After considering, Chen Tiansheng accepted Zhao Daqiang’s information. He pulled out all his coins and handed them to Zhao Daqiang. “Take this money, find some beggars, and create a commotion at Zhang Chengnan’s residence. As big and as long as possible.”

Zhao Daqiang stared at the money, momentarily confused by Chen Tiansheng’s plan, but he never questioned his decisions. “Alright, leave it to me!”

With that, he turned and hurried away.

Watching Zhao Daqiang’s retreating figure, Chen Tiansheng scratched his head helplessly. The man trusted him implicitly, obeyed without explanation, and acted without hesitation—a true roughneck.

Straightening his expression, Chen Tiansheng looked toward the inn.

The largest organization in the martial world was the Common Way Society. The inn, called Five Lakes and Four Seas, belonged to them, and Chen Tiansheng was considered a member.

He could seek help from the organization, as he had reason on his side. Yet, the martial world was not just about fighting; it was about connections. With his status, the organization would not easily assist him, and going there would be a waste of time. Thus, he set his sights on the martial artists within the inn.

Most martial artists were members of the Common Way Society, though not formally affiliated; they were permitted to take private jobs outside.

Just as Chen Tiansheng was about to reenter the inn, a man stopped him—none other than Fang Chenghu, who had entered earlier. Fang Chenghu held a toothpick in one hand, propped himself against the doorpost with the other, and looked down on him disdainfully. “Kid, looks like you’re in trouble. Need this lord’s help?”

“Sir, you truly have foresight. My family is indeed in trouble, but the opponent is Zhang Chengnan from the west of the city, and I fear it might bring you trouble,” Chen Tiansheng replied with flattery, his gaze evasive and tone tinged with sighs.

“This lord knows exactly who your enemy is. If I dare to help, I don’t fear offending that damned Zhang family,” Fang Chenghu said, pleased with Chen Tiansheng’s submissive demeanor. He raised his chin proudly, then lowered his gaze, adopting an aloof posture. “I can help you, but on one condition.”

“What condition?” Chen Tiansheng asked with delight, inwardly marveling.

He didn’t believe Fang Chenghu possessed any prophetic abilities. During his conversation with Zhao Daqiang, no one was nearby; clearly, Fang Chenghu had overheard them with exceptional hearing. Martial artists at the master level could sense the city’s energy and temper their bodies, gaining enhanced senses. Fang Chenghu’s seat was twenty meters from the door, and with the inn's noise, to hear their conversation, he was no ordinary master.

This man had indeed had a fortunate encounter.

Perhaps he truly could help; it all depended on his condition.

Whatever it was, as long as it could save his sister-in-law, Chen Tiansheng would agree!

“Follow me for a month,” Fang Chenghu said, eyes narrowed, sizing up the young man before him.

He had indeed had a stroke of luck, gaining a special yin skill that granted him his current strength. But it also afflicted him with coldness; each night he suffered bone-chilling pain, which worsened with deeper practice. To alleviate the pain without harming his yin energy, he had to seek a body of pure yang, and he had just learned from the innkeeper that Chen Tiansheng was born at a yang hour, yang month, and yang year—a pure yang body.

This boy was his reservoir of yang energy.

Once he was no longer useful, he’d dispose of him.

On the other side, Chen Tiansheng thought a month wasn’t much, and had just nodded when he noticed Fang Chenghu’s strange look, sending a chill down his spine.

Could this man…