Chapter 86: Dao Bai Liu in a Haze of Inebriation

Three days later, early in the morning while the mist had yet to clear, Old Zhu arrived with more than fifty men to join forces. After a brief meeting, the group discussed their strategy for the day. Yang Cheng invited Duan Zhiwu, Li Tianjun, and three other experts from the house guards, making a team of five to face the eight elite fighters on the other side. Duan Zhiwu accepted without hesitation.

With barely a few words exchanged, the party set out beyond the city walls. Lu Baichuan did not show himself; he lingered in the shadows, intending only to intervene at the most perilous moment. He wanted to give the younger generation some experience, so Mei Yuchen, Hua Mingzhu, and Li Tianxing were all brought along. Only Bai Zhuluo was left behind, for fear that her identity might be exposed amid so many eyes.

Yang Cheng and Old Zhu led the way, flanked by Li Tianjun and Duan Zhiwu, whose presence exuded a chilling, murderous air. Over a hundred men marched behind them, a formidable procession as they exited the southern gate.

Yang Cheng glanced about—Old Zhu was gritting his teeth, Li Tianjun looked imposing with his broadsword, and Duan Zhiwu’s expression was severe. A trace of nervousness and excitement stirred within Yang Cheng; after all, this was a considerably grand undertaking. It was his first time leading such an assembly, and though uneasy, he could not help but feel a thrill. There was no real danger—everyone’s friends and family knew where they were, and if anyone died, the authorities would demand answers. Moreover, Lu Baichuan was secretly watching over them; at worst, they would merely lose and pay some compensation.

They made haste and soon reached the agreed-upon clearing. Through the lingering fog, they could make out shifting figures in the distance—some sitting, some lying down—the men of the Bluefire Gang, who had clearly arrived much earlier. At a glance, their numbers seemed to far exceed their own. Yang Cheng and Old Zhu exchanged uneasy glances.

The leader of the Bluefire Gang, Song Qinghuo, was more than willing to accept the challenge. Though he was brutal by nature, he had led his small group to become one of the nine great gangs of the city’s southern district—not just through ruthlessness, but through cunning as well.

He had already sent men to investigate the Yang family’s background; neither family was noteworthy and both were in decline, so he doubted they could best him. He intended to fight first, then extort a hefty "medical fee." So he had brought his men early, wary the opposition might try some trickery.

But many among his ranks, though fighters, were loafers and ruffians by nature; otherwise, they would not be in this line of work. Some had already succumbed to drowsiness and lay sleeping on the ground. Seeing the enemy arrive, they showed little vigilance. Song Qinghuo’s temper flared and he shouted, "All of you, get up!"

The Bluefire Gang members reluctantly rose to their feet, though their formation was loose. Yang Cheng quickly tallied their numbers—about three hundred, as their intelligence had suggested.

While Song Qinghuo berated his men, Li Tianjun took the opportunity to arrange their own ranks into order.

Amid the mist, neither side could see clearly behind the other and neither dared to charge recklessly; both forces remained locked in a standstill.

The Bluefire Gang, unruly by nature, could not keep their mouths shut. When the other side did not move, they began hurling insults and taunts. Song Qinghuo made no attempt to restrain them, crossing his arms in amusement while the jeers rose in chaotic chorus.

On Yang Cheng’s side, Li Tianjun, Duan Zhiwu, and the other three experts stood at the front. The Yang house guards, drilled by Li Tianjun, were silent and disciplined, showing a military bearing. Old Zhu’s fifty-odd foundation-level martial artists formed the flank, and though some bristled at the insults, they kept quiet for the sake of the main force’s composure.

Old Zhu and Yang Cheng, both novices in qi cultivation, could only stand at the rear and observe. Old Zhu, having seen the enemy’s numbers, felt his fighting spirit cool.

Beside them stood five young warriors—Hua Mingzhu, Mei Yuchen, and the Li brothers, Tianxing and Tianhu. Though still young, the three had killed before and remained calm despite the large-scale confrontation. The Li brothers, Tianhu and Tianbiao, full of youthful vigor, were flushed with excitement and barely able to contain themselves.

The standoff lasted until the sun rose and the mist began to dissipate, revealing both sides in full.

At the front of the Bluefire Gang stood a burly man, arms crossed and scowling with disdain. Behind him were six others, likely the integration-stage experts, though one seemed missing. Beyond them, nearly three hundred men loomed—some fierce, some slouching with a rogue’s indifference.

Song Qinghuo arched a brow and called out in a deep voice, "Send out your leader to speak!"

Before Yang Cheng could respond, Li Tianjun strode forward, blade in hand. "If it’s a fight you want, let’s fight—save your breath," he barked. Though imposing and rough in appearance, Li Tianjun was shrewd; he did not want Yang Cheng to answer, lest the enemy discover his identity. In the chaos to come, if Yang Cheng was captured, the battle would be lost before it began.

Song Qinghuo sneered, gesturing at the opposing ranks and then at his own, mocking, "Heh, you think you’re tough? Look around—see who wins and who loses. Get on your knees and beg for mercy, and if I’m in a good mood, maybe I’ll let you off a few thousand."

"If you want us to beg, you’ll have to ask my blade first," Li Tianjun replied coldly, drawing his weapon across his chest without so much as a glance at his adversary.

Song Qinghuo’s temper flared. "Let’s see how long you can keep that backbone. Don’t blame me for not warning you—I’ll be sure to break a few extra bones later."

Li Tianjun smirked, "We’ll see who breaks whose bones. If you have the guts, fight me one-on-one."

Song Qinghuo’s anger turned to laughter. "One-on-one? I brought all these brothers just for that? Don’t think I’ll fall for your little provocation."

Li Tianjun frowned, disappointed that his attempt to bait Song Qinghuo had failed. His plan was to take down Song Qinghuo first, making the ensuing fight—five against six—more manageable. But Song Qinghuo was not so easily fooled.

While the two leaders exchanged barbs at the front, Yang Cheng and Old Zhu watched, captivated. Suddenly, someone placed a hand on Old Zhu’s shoulder and muttered, "All this dawdling and still no fight. It’s enough to make one doze off."

Yang Cheng glanced over to see a handsome young martial artist, bleary-eyed and barely able to stand, clearly familiar with Old Zhu. He wondered, "Why would Old Zhu invite such an unreliable man to help?"

On the field, Song Qinghuo, growing impatient with the verbal sparring, was about to order his men to attack when his gaze swept over the opposing ranks and he suddenly erupted in rage. "Dao Bai Liu, you bastard, are you betraying us? We searched all night for you, and you’re standing with the enemy?"

The crowd was puzzled. The drunken youth shivered, looking around in confusion.

Yang Cheng and Old Zhu, seeing his expression, were shocked out of their wits.

"Damn!" Yang Cheng blurted out in alarm. He and Old Zhu immediately retreated several steps to distance themselves from the man. The entire group was thrown into a panic—when had a member of the Bluefire Gang gotten so close to their leaders? If he had seized Yang Cheng or Old Zhu, there would be no point in fighting—they might as well surrender on the spot.