Chapter 49: The Young Helmsman

Chapter 49 The Young Helm Master

The weather in Chengdu Prefecture in the second month had still not warmed up. Although the torrential rain from earlier had lessened, this drizzle, like a child pissing, only made the damp cold seep deeper into the bones.

For the people of Shu, there was no greater comfort in such weather than eating a meal of hot pot.

"Set an iron pot over charcoal burning white-hot, place a bamboo-woven nine-grid rack in the center, dividing the heaven and earth within the pot into spaces that appear independent on the surface but merge at the bottom."

"Pour in half a pot of scarlet broth stir-fried with red oil and chilies, and wait quietly for scallions, ginger, garlic, and other seasonings to tumble and bubble in the red waves. In mere moments, a pungent, spicy aroma assaults the nose, making one's limbs break out in a sweat unbidden."

"At this point, pick up a slice of tripe and give it a gentle swirl in the boiling red soup—four or five dips at most, absolutely no greed, for haste makes waste."

"Then, coated in the premium clear oil dipping sauce, pop it into your mouth. One gentle bite, *hiss*—that flavor is simply endless aftertaste!"

"So remember this, all of you: the essence of eating hot pot lies in the word 'swirl' (shuan). You must grasp the timing with precision; too long and it's tough, too short and it's raw. Not tough, not raw—that is perfection."

In a streetside hot pot shop on Ghost Street, an old gourmand was holding forth animatedly on the essence of hot pot. His gaze flicked toward a corner, and his mouth twisted in displeasure.

"One must never be like those two unlucky brats, dumping all the ingredients in at once. That way of eating is simply a violent waste of heavenly gifts!"

The fellow diners followed his gaze. At a small table tucked in the corner, empty plates piled like mountains; the food in the pot was heaped into a peak, boiling broth spilling *pu-su-pu-su* over the rim.

"Utterly disgraceful!"

Two big men buried their heads, chopsticks flying, swallowing sounds loud enough to make even the thick-skinned residents of Ghost Street feel a secondhand embarrassment.

A pair of chopsticks probed back and forth in the pot several times. Only after repeated confirmation that not a single morsel had escaped did the owner of the chopsticks reluctantly give up, still unsatisfied.

Kuang Qingyun leaned back, producing a pipe from beneath his blue robe as if by magic and clamping it between his teeth. A cluster of flame sprouted from his fingertips, reaching for the bowl.

Not a shred of synthetic skin was visible on his entire arm; the silver mechanical bones even bore numerous bullet holes and knife scars.

"How about it? The place I recommended is authentic, right? I'm telling you, if you want good food, you have to go to these fly-infested dives tucked away in the back alleys."

"Indeed, not bad."

Li Jun wiped his mouth and smiled. "It's just that you eat too fast; I didn't even snag a few slices of meat. What, has the Helm Master of the Pao Ge Association fallen so far he can't get a full meal?"

Kuang Qingyun glared. "Look down on who? Believe me, one word from me and I'll have them lead a genuine, native yellow cattle over right now—fresh kill, fresh eat, no problem."

Li Jun gave a thumbs up. "Bold words. You've got a bit of Ding Ye's mettle."

"Now that sounds like human speech."

Kuang Qingyun took a drag, holding the smoke in his lungs for a long time before exhaling slowly. In the hazy mist, the mirth in his eyes faded a few degrees.

"Ding Ye is buried in the backyard of the hall. You can go pay respects when you're free. No matter what happened in the past, the man is gone; there's no point in holding onto it."

Li Jun didn't speak, just nodded silently, his eyes fixed on the bloodstain at Kuang Qingyun's temple that hadn't been wiped clean.

"What's with the blood on your face?"

"Didn't wipe it clean?"

Kuang Qingyun froze, dipped his fingers in the tea cup, and meticulously wiped his face, grumbling, "You saw it and didn't say anything earlier. Ruined my handsome image."

Li Jun watched Kuang Qingyun's joking demeanor, his own expression remaining grave. "I heard from Crow Hua that the Pao Ge Association has sent a lot of wounded men over recently. Who did you clash with?"

Kuang Qingyun rearranged his topknot neatly, tucked his hands into his sleeves, and smiled. "Don't ask. Otherwise it sounds like I came looking for you to back me up. I, Kuang Qingyun, haven't fallen that low yet."

"I didn't mean that. I'm just curious—who could put you in such a sorry state?"

Kuang Qingyun snorted coldly. "Sorry state? You should see how miserable the other side is."

Li Jun was about to press further but was cut off directly by Kuang Qingyun.

"Alright, don't worry about this trifle. I came today to tell you to be careful recently."

Li Jun frowned. "You hear some wind?"

"Lately, word all over Chengdu Prefecture says Tianfu Heavy Industry got ambushed by Shu Road Logistics outside Songpan Wei in the West Fan region. Heavy losses."

"The entire operation—Division Three and Division Four—wiped out. Two Division Chiefs ranked at Soldier Eight were taken apart piece by piece. This isn't a rumor; I saw their mechanical hearts on the black market with my own eyes."

Shu Road Logistics actually ambushed Tianfu Heavy Industry outside Songpan Wei?!

Li Jun curled his lips into a silent smile. He suddenly understood why Gu Yong had been so happy in the Teaching Workshop.

Kuang Qingyun didn't notice the knife-sharp cold light in Li Jun's eyes, continuing on his own.

"Right now, Tianfu Heavy Industry's people are all like red-eyed hyenas, holding their breath for revenge. You're now with Shu Road Logistics Security; you'll definitely get dragged in."

"You walk the Martial Path, not the Soldier Path like us. We're fine as long as our heads and mechanical hearts are intact—we can take a beating to our organs and not die. But you're real flesh and blood; one major hemorrhage and you're done."

"Sigh, I'm not that...."

In the midst of Kuang Qingyun's dense verbiage, there was no room for Li Jun to interject; he was cut off the moment he opened his mouth.

"I know you can fight, but those big conglomerates aren't like us, simply comparing whose fist is bigger. They play with their brains!"

"Take that Gu Ding who was beaten to death—a man who hadn't even entered a Sequence, how did he become your Security Supervisor? Wasn't it by currying favor with Gu Yong, getting a house slave status, changing his surname to Gu, that he climbed up?"

"These workplace schemes, these ghostly tricks of the officialdom—that is the knife that kills without drawing blood! You have to be on guard at all times, lest you fall into a pit and die without knowing how."

Whether it was the hot pot or the proximity to the charcoal fire, Li Jun felt warm all over right now, and couldn't help but laugh.

"I got it. Thanks... Second Brother."

Kuang Qingyun's rapidly moving lips suddenly paused. He froze for a long while before slowly saying, "Nothing to thank me for. I don't know what you're how you see it, but that night at the General Hall, you fought for the Pao Ge Association until you were drenched in blood. I remember that clearly."

This young Helm Master tapped the tattoo on his neck. "You may have lost this Yazi head, but I acknowledge you. With it or without it, it's the same."

After speaking, Kuang Qingyun's expression turned awkward. He muttered in a low voice: "Damn, so sappy. How did those words come out of my mouth?"

Just then, the bowls and chopsticks on the table began to shake violently. The soup in the iron pot sloshed onto the tabletop. For a moment, cries of alarm rose throughout the shop.

Then, a few dull thuds drifted faintly from outside the shop, sounding like explosions from far away.

Kuang Qingyun's brow instantly furrowed. He took a slow, deep breath, stood up casually, and smiled at Li Jun.

"Meal's done. I won't keep you. Come back to Nine Dragons Street when you're free. Quite a few brothers still miss their Red Flag Fifth Brother, the best fighter we had."

With that, Kuang Qingyun tossed down a few banknotes and strode out of the shop.

Li Jun stared at his retreating back, his right fingertips tapping rhythmically on the table, then suddenly let out a cold laugh.

"Seems I really am too easy to talk to? Everyone dares come step on my head twice."

................

Outside the hot pot shop, a row of modified cars of unrecognizable make were parked by the street. Dozens of Pao Ge Association disciples in black stood in the rain.

Kuang Qingyun strode over. Before he even drew near, he roared at a bearded, burly man: "What happened?"

"Grandpa, the hall was bombed. Twelve brothers dead, and many neighbors injured."

Kuang Qingyun's step faltered. "Did you see clearly which way they ran?"

"Someone's been tailing them the whole time."

"Good!"

Kuang Qingyun lifted his robe, tucked the hem into his waist, bent down, and ducked into the car.

"Chase them down! Today I'm going to flay those Annam Gang monkeys alive!"