Chapter 414: Senior Brother Enters the City

Chapter 414: The Senior Brother Enters the City

【Cultivation of the Viper Official Art (Fifth Rank Combat Technique) Completed】

【Consumed 300 Proficiency Points; Viper Official Art Advances to Fifth Rank Great Perfection】

【Lineage】: Martial Path Line Five—Harbinger of Calamity

【Combat Techniques】: Viper Official Art (Fifth Rank Great Perfection), Dragon-Tiger Fist (Sixth Rank Great Perfection), tendon‑splitting and bone‑breaking Hand (Seventh Rank Great Perfection), Eight‑Extreme Fist (Eighth Rank Great Perfection), Insight of the Bright Ghost (Eighth Rank Initial)

【Body Method】: Listening to the Void Step (Sixth Rank Great Perfection)

【Physical Training】: Submerged Abyss Whale Armor (Sixth Rank Great Perfection)

【Internal Skill】: Heavy Tower Decision (Sixth Rank Great Perfection)

【Remaining Proficiency Points: 204】

The empty injector was pulled from his neck, while Li Jun gently sensed the pleasure emanating from his kidneys, and lifted the same injector along with the electronic documents that had been placed inside the box.

“The Viper Official is the kidney. A strong official produces cunning skills.”

“The kidney governs the viper; it is the foundation of concealment, the essence itself.”

This is the instruction penned by Zhao Qing for Li Jun; the documents are filled with extensive citations and theoretical foundations, almost entirely in classical Chinese, causing Li Jun a throbbing headache.

Li Jun’s usual approach is to grasp concepts gradually through actual combat, so now he scans the final line of the documents, skipping the intricate details.

“Viper Official is the essence of the five viscera; excessive depletion inevitably leads to bodily collapse, even spawning untreatable toxins that threaten life. Use it wisely, lest you jeopardize your existence,” Zhao Qing warned.

Li Jun placed the reverse side of the documents over the table and gently closed his eyes.

So‑called Viper Official Art is merely the free control of adrenaline secretion!

Although he could not decipher the theory on the documents, Zhao Qing’s warning lodged firmly in his mind.

On that day at Matsusaka Castle, Shuicun Wudou held out for a long time relying on this martial art.

According to Zhao Qing’s research, when Shuicun Wudou was suddenly defeated amid fierce combat, it was likely because an overabundance of adrenaline caused toxin accumulation beyond his body’s tolerance, resulting in a direct collapse.

“It seems this art must be employed with deliberate restraint.”

Li Jun murmured inwardly, then lifted his gaze to Zhou Sihu, whose face was streaked with the dust of travel.

His once glossy topknot now dulled, each strand clinging to his scalp, rendering him rather forlorn.

After obtaining the item in the Jizu Hall, Zhou Sihu scarcely paused, galloping straight back to the Woyu district.

“You’ve worked hard, old Zhou.”

“It’s not hardship, it’s suffering.”

Zhou Sihu rolled his eyes, indignant: “Muxu is utterly outrageous; they didn’t treat me as a guest, refusing even a single step into the Jizu Hall! It’s like guarding against thieves, fearing I’d slip into their dreams to steal, truly an affront!”

“The Jizu Hall is the core stronghold of Muxu; others should be especially cautious.”

Li Jun twinkled his eye and teased, “And you truly haven’t entertained any other thoughts?”

“Am I that kind of person?”

Zhou Sihu’s displeasure lingered, then he leaned back, hands brushing his temples, “At most I’m merely curious about these blacksmiths’ dreams; tell me, besides the hammer and sparks, what else dwells in their dreams?”

Li Jun smiled, “I know nothing you don’t, yet I know that if the Jizu Hall hadn’t barred you at once, this hulking rat would already be tossed into the furnace as fuel.”

“You speak as if my curiosity is solely for my own satisfaction.”

“Oh,” Li Jun raised an eyebrow, “so it’s connected to me?”

“Of course, what if—what if you someday have to clash with Muxu, you’ll need to know where their weaknesses lie?”

Zhou Sihu declared, “Dreams are unguarded; there lies the best place to discover their weaknesses!”

Li Jun’s brow furrowed suddenly, “Old Li, did you hear something in the Jizu Hall?”

“Not the wind, but an omen. Though the Jizu Hall’s guards barred me from their dreams, the Yin‑Yang Sequence’s methods extend beyond mere dreaming. I have seen Zhao Qing himself, heard his words and observed his bearing, gaining the foundation for physiognomy and divination.”

Zhou Sihu intoned solemnly, “Old Li, your young companion’s visage is troubled; his brows hide worry, as if he’s encountered trouble.”

Li Jun’s expression grew somber, and he pressed on, “Because you refined this martial art for me?”

“I don’t know.”

Zhou Sihu shook his head, confessing, “Reading faces is like viewing flowers through mist, watching fire from the shore—knowing the intent but not the form. Ask me the specific cause, and I cannot tell; yet I can affirm one thing.”

Zhou Sihu solemnly declared, “His trouble surely stems from you and Old Ma.”

“A greed that cannot be restrained, a relentless seeker of death.”

Li Jun remained composed, steadied himself on the chair arm, rose, and pushed open the conference room door.

The two Imperial Guards stationed outside instantly turned, bowed with clasped fists, “Sir?”

“Bring Fan Wuchang to see me at once!”

“Yes!”

From behind, Zhou Sihu shouted, “Old Li, what are you intending?”

“How could it be any other way?”

Li Jun laughed coldly, “When others help me, I help them in return—reasonable and fitting.”

“Old Li, don’t rush; Zhao Qing is merely uneasy now, not terrified or distressed, indicating the trouble is modest, likely just a budding sign.”

Zhou Sihu, unaware of Li Jun’s temper, rose at once, “Those who seek trouble have not yet made their move; charging into the Jizu Hall will not solve the problem and may backfire. Moreover, with the current state of the Woyu district, you cannot extricate yourself. Even if you return to the imperial homeland, it would be like a mud‑bodied Buddha crossing the river—preserving yourself may be doubtful!”

Zhou Sihu’s words struck true, and Li Jun knew this keenly in his heart.

Now the Woyu district’s new policies surge like fire, and the remaining nine major cities, following the early successes of Inuyama Castle, have fully rolled out initiatives such as elementary private schools, Confucian temples, and the output of vigorous youth labor, yielding remarkable results.

Yet sharp criticisms are quietly spreading, their arrows aimed directly at the true purpose of the imperial new policies.

‘The Longwu dynasty perishes, the prosperous era brings extinction!’ ‘When the new policies stabilize, the Woyu people will all die!’ ‘This is not a new policy, but an invisible slaughterhouse!’

Such remarks erupted in uproar, a simmering fervor beneath the surface.

Although two of the four leading companies have already collapsed, Woyu still harbors many elders from the former dynasty, who preside over large families or lead organizations akin to labor guilds.

In the past, the Censorate and the Brocade Guard rarely engaged these people directly, mostly communicating through the four great companies as intermediaries; figures like Yang Baize, who incorporated Woyu commoners into the bureaucracy, were exceedingly rare.

Yet as the four great companies now struggle to survive, especially after Renide Capital was removed, these elders have begun to show subtle signs of unrest.

Although most of them have deteriorated genetically and entered a dormant phase, their prestige and reverence among the Woyu people are high; rash removal could provoke considerable unrest.

And they are precisely the second step of Yang Baize’s new strategy—the targets of the official robes!

Now Yang Baize has aligned with Li Jun, and the Brocade Guard must thoroughly monitor their movements, planning to co‑opt some, suppress others, and, when necessary, purge a batch.

At this moment, Li Jun had no opportunity to withdraw.

And Zhou Sihu’s ‘mud Buddha’ understood this all too well.

It is nothing more than four words: having made too many enemies.

Should news of Li Jun’s return to the imperial homeland leak, the Qingcheng Group, the Great Zhao Temple, the Shaolin Temple, and even the Confucian family Gu of the sect will seize the chance to trouble him.

Besides, there may be old debts tied to Su Ce that could fall upon his head.

“I am a mud Buddha; whether this river can submerge me depends on its depth. Yet if I become fearful now, waiting for others to strike will be too late.”

No delay! When I consult fortunes for others, there are always only two outcomes: either I see the enemy die, or I see a friend revive. When I left the military quota list for Zhao Qingxia, I told him that you had prepaid a large sum on it, and that he should not leave his side; I also added a little backdoor that aids sleep.

Zou Si‑jiu grinned slyly, "If Zhao Qingxia ever encounters any peril that could threaten his life, I will know by that very evening at the latest."

Kuanshan City, Mizuoka Wharf.

A passenger ship, its engines extinguished, drifted slowly toward the shore by inertia.

Standing beside the ship's rail, Luo Cheng had changed his attire; he wore no trappings of the Daoist order, a white silk scarf, a black duffel bag slung over his shoulder, a scholarly, Confucian air—almost as if he were a Confucian scholar traveling from the imperial mainland to the Japanese enclave.

"Dear passengers, Kuanshan City has arrived; please queue in order to disembark."

In the looping broadcast, Luo Cheng lifted his eyes to survey the buildings on the shore.

At a glance, all that lay before him were dilapidated shacks; the damp ground bore many slogans and flags, bearing words like "Never leave the Japanese enclave, swear to guard one's homeland" and "New slaughter policy, kill my brothers."

Not long ago, a demonstration had just erupted here.

Luo Cheng's gaze stretched further, beyond the wharf to a patchwork of factories and workshops. It was the hour of the Rooster, the shift change; a dense throng poured out of the steel buildings, greeting one another, scattering in all directions.

He observed clearly that these laborers were not young; most were in their forties or fifties, with hardly any youthful faces in sight.

"Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump."

Suddenly, a rhythmic drumbeat echoed in the dim twilight.

Moments later, many youths in blue Confucian robes appeared in alleys and streets; they were students who had left Fuzimiao.

Without the exuberance of youth, these boys moved with steady steps, each gesture steeped in a sharp, rigid flavor; even those traveling together, upon parting at the crossroads, wore identical expressions and salutes.

Standing aboard, Luo Cheng flipped his palm and pressed a blue wind seal onto his ear.

Immediately, stiff, juvenile voices rang in his ears.

"See you tomorrow, Jiang Li."

"See you tomorrow, Mu Xi Yuan Er Bu, Li Yuan Er."

"Please remember my name from now on, and never shout it wrong again. Your body and skin are given by your parents; your reputation and future by your teachers—these must not be forgotten. The gentlemen have repeatedly stressed this."

"Understood."

Luo Cheng watched the figure in the distance, its upper body nearly bent to the level of the ground, and listened to the dignified words emanating from the wind seal, letting out a silent laugh. Suddenly, his complexion darkened.

"How long has the new policy been in effect, yet it has already managed to indoctrinate the Japanese people to this extent? The contamination and infiltration of the Confucian order grow ever stronger!"

"All those disembarking, do not move!"

A command rang out; Luo Cheng withdrew his gaze, the brilliance of the seal at his ear dimmed into a dull gray plaque, which he casually tossed into the sea.

"We are the Kuanshan City sentries. According to the regulations of the Office of Reassurance, we now need to verify each of your identities. The process will not take long; please cooperate!"

The speaker was a square‑faced man, wearing a half‑moon chainmail helmet, a pair of dark‑red goggles perched on his brim, a Doyan Wei submachine gun slung over his shoulder, black bullet‑proof cotton armor draped over his body, and the white‑painted characters "Suwei" emblazoned on his chest.

A dozen other sentries behind him were similarly dressed, each towing a pair of bio‑dogs, "Huang Nu," bred by the agricultural order.

Luo Cheng glanced casually; as his gaze passed over the two Huang Nu dogs, it startled two plaintive sobs.

"What are you shouting? Pull them up!"

The square‑faced squad leader barked in displeasure, ordering his subordinates to lift the two Huang Nu dogs that lay inexplicably on the ground.

Yet no matter how the controlling sentry fumbled, the two dogs refused to rise; their tails whipped across the ground like a storm, splashing droplets of filth.

"Damned it, the procurement department's bastards—now they dare to buy even these unbred inferior dogs. I'll go back and give them a piece of my mind."

The square‑faced sentry cursed, drew a black square box of machinery from his belt, and shouted to the somewhat chaotic crowd on the wharf: "Those who have implanted a neural interface, expose the port; those who have not, produce a citizen certificate stamped by the Office of Reassurance. Please cooperate; our inspection will conclude swiftly."

The sentries were somewhat courteous, but the gun barrels, black and hollow, sent chills through everyone.

With firearms at the ready, the inspection proceeded in orderly fashion.

Soon, the square‑faced sentry approached Luo Cheng, raising the black square box: "Neural interface or citizen certificate?"

Luo Cheng spread his hands: "I have not implanted a neural interface; I was in a hurry to leave, and I didn't bring my citizen certificate. What do I do?"

"Then you cannot prove your identity? Easy."

The square‑faced sentry gave a cold smile, drew from his breast a fist‑sized mechanical contraption, held it, and threw it to the ground.

Amid a series of clanking deformation sounds, a metal‑crafted chain of shackles appeared before Luo Cheng's toes.

The lock's central cavity emitted a sizzling electric hum, with blue arcs occasionally flaring, making the surrounding passengers' hair rise.

"Put the shackles on yourself and follow us for a while."

Luo Cheng raised an eyebrow, chuckled: "Brother, I simply didn't bring my ID. Do I need a severe punishment?"

"Looking at your attire and accent, you must be a Ming native, right?"

Pop!

A severed arm crashed into the turbid water of the wharf.

The square‑faced sentry stared in shock at his still “hissing” bleeding arm, and let out a shrill scream.

"Ah."

The square‑faced sentry fell head‑first, clutching the severed arm, curling into a ball.

"Since your mouth remains clean, I'll spare you this time."

With a thin, cicada‑wing‑like metal seal between his fingers, the seal's edges dripped crimson blood slowly.

"Remember: from now on, you can pat anyone's shoulder. If you pat the wrong one, your hand may be lost."

"Bold rogue, daring to attack a sentry—give me his…"

The square‑faced sentry widened his eyes, shouting angrily at the stunned subordinates around him.

But before other sentries could react, a wave of terror surged from the heart, sweeping the entire scene; everyone felt their heads struck, losing control, collapsing en masse, eyes turning white, bodies convulsing.

"Ge Zuo's Record, Ling Shu—Dragon Might!"

"Having arrived at Kuanshan City, what's next? Going straight to the front is too…"

Luo Cheng muttered to himself, strolling leisurely forward.

Behind him, a glaring crimson flowed everywhere; the previously convulsing bodies had become cold corpses.

Only the two Huang Nu dogs that had been lying on the ground from the start survived; they still maintained the same posture, wagging their tails in a pleading manner.