Chapter 599: Storm in Xin'an

Chapter 599: Storms in Xin'an

Guangzhou Prefecture, Xin'an County.

Compared to the bustling, sprawling Jinling City, Wang Qi preferred this seemingly cramped, impoverished new map.

Because here there are no outrageously difficult plot missions, nor countless terrifying figures who could crush him like an ant with a mere gesture.

In Xin'an County, as soon as he revealed his identity as the "Former Mountain Gate," whoever it was would immediately flash a fawning, obsequious smile, deferential and eager to fulfill any demand he made.

And the so-called "Former Mountain Gate" was merely a superficial guise adopted by his true faction, the Celestial Void, for outward dealings.

Having endured numerous nightmares in Jinling City, Wang Qi, in Xin'an County, had finally found a sturdy tree to lean upon and began to live a comparatively comfortable life.

Indeed, this was the proper starting difficulty for a mundane, jianghu‑style Yellow Millet dream.

Like his experiences in Jinling City, those were merely cut‑scenes used to narrate the grand backdrop of the dream’s overarching story.

The present Xin'an County was where his true journey began.

Starting from a remote, backward hamlet, as an obscure member of an organization, he would rise step by step, weathering hardship and peril, eventually to dominate the entire Ming Empire, stand at the pinnacle of the sequence, and achieve a grand enterprise worthy of being recorded in history.

Such a simple, brutal plot structure is commonplace in this sort of Yellow Millet dream, and Wang Qi could see through it at a glance.

Nevertheless, seeing through it did not diminish his appetite; the dream’s construction still suited his taste.

Especially the sequence path he had chosen for his current role—a road of relentless bullying, enduring humiliation, awaiting the day to reforge the former glory of a fallen martial lineage—perfectly matched his identity as the protagonist who would single‑handedly lead the whole sequence in a counter‑offensive against the tide.

Thus, after a few months of roughly familiarizing himself with the basic situation of the Yellow Millet dream, Wang Qi clenched his fists, eager beyond restraint to begin living the life of the protagonist favored by heaven’s mandate.

Yet another problem soon followed.

As the "Guide," Ao Hu had brought him to this "newbie map," only to vanish inexplicably!

Wang Qi exhausted every means but found no trace of him, naturally leaving no way to push the plot forward.

He brimmed with boiling fervor and martial zeal, yet had no venue to unleash them.

This left Wang Qi deeply troubled.

Fortunately, today, after a long wait, Wang Qi finally encountered the first plot point that would launch his dream‑life.

The Changxing Society.

What is the Changxing Society? It is a quintessential Ming‑person gang within Xin'an County.

Throughout Guangzhou Prefecture, such organizations are as numerous as cow hairs, their presence felt in every nook and cranny.

And behind the scenes, controlling these gangs, is precisely the Celestial Void.

These gangs are not only the Celestial Void’s source of wealth, but also the wellspring of fresh blood for it.

Wang Qi even felt that these gangs were the embryonic form of the Celestial Void, or perhaps born according to its organizational structure.

And Wang Qi’s present identity is one of the liaisons between the Celestial Void and these gangs.

In previous dealings, the Changxing Society had always been obedient, never short‑changing, let alone delaying.

Consequently, it had once received commendation from the Celestial Void, when Wang Qi personally bestowed upon its chief, the gene‑exhausted Eighth‑Sequence martial artist Hua Dan Huo, an eighth‑grade combat injector.

But this time, the Changxing Society broke its usual docility, cutting off this period’s payment without any prior notice.

If this had happened at another time, Wang Qi might have suspected some hidden motive.

But now, trapped within the current plot and at a loss, his keen sense detected something suspicious.

This abnormality of the Changxing Society should signal that his own storyline is beginning to advance.

“Punishing traitors within the organization—ah, this trope is a bit cliché, but I can barely accept it. I just wonder if Hua Dan Huo can give me a surprise.”

The black umbrella in his hand snapped open with a bang.

Wang Qi, smiling faintly, stepped under the umbrella into the torrential rain before him.

Late at night, the people were not still; the fierce rain did not dampen the bustle of Copper Gong Long Street in Xin'an County.

Crowds seeking pleasure flowed in and out amid various alluring lights, their jovial laughter rising together with the scents of wine, smoke, and meat toward the sky.

Yet at the most prosperous spot of Copper Gong Long Street stood an old‑fashioned building only two stories high.

Its red‑background, gold‑lettered sign bore the four large characters “Changxing Restaurant.”

Wooden lattice windows, hanging lanterns, and swaying wine banners lent the architecture an antiquated charm that evoked a dream of returning to the pre‑Ming era.

Several burly men in tight‑fit attire stood at the doorway, puffing smoke and conversing in low tones.

“The chief has spoken: Xin'an will not be peaceful lately. You all keep your eyes sharp and don’t invite trouble at this critical juncture, understand?”

A subordinate chuckled dismissively: “Boss, don’t scare us. Everyone knows Xin'an’s heaven is shielded by a hand; unless someone possesses heavenly ability to chop it off, who would dare cause trouble?”

The leader’s eyes flashed cold: “Do you think I’m joking with you? Or is it the chief who’s joking?”

“No, boss, don’t misunderstand; we will certainly follow your orders.”

The man who had just spoken froze his smile, then hurriedly explained: “I simply couldn’t believe anyone would dare cause trouble in Xin'an.”

“No one can keep the sky covered with one hand forever; this time, it’s likely someone really came to chop off that hand.”

The leader, privy to some inside information, exhaled a puff of smoke, suddenly turned his gaze toward the long street, his wary eyes piercing the curling smoke to fix on a figure approaching through the rain.

“Friend, the host has business today; we cannot receive guests. If you have any matter, please come another day.”

The man led his men into the rain, stepping before Wang Qi.

Yet he did not directly shove him away; he politely bowed his body, courteous yet with a hint of cold sternness.

“The rule of your Changxing Society is: lit lamps mean open for business.”

Wang Qi’s face was hidden beneath the umbrella’s brim as he raised a hand to point at the lantern under the eaves that glowed red.

“You have lit the lamps today, yet you are not conducting any trade—what is the reasoning behind that?”

“That rule is true, but exceptions are inevitable.”

The man turned his palm downward, the back of his hand shielding him from the raindrops, flicked away the cigarette butt perched at his lip, and said, “Today we truly cannot do business; please understand, friend.”

“Every household has its ups and downs, certainly understandable. But I came today not to buy anything, but to collect money.”

The man froze, his face darkening instantly, his flesh twitching, a fierce aura suddenly erupting.

“Friend, have you not inquired what sort of place this is?”

The man sized up the umbrella‑wielder before him, furrowing his brow: “We’re all jianghu youths; if you encounter some difficulty and need to borrow a bit of money to get by, that’s no problem—just name the amount, as long as it’s not too large, our Changxing Society will gladly do a good deed.”

“But if you rely on a bit of strength to come here and cause trouble, you’d best first gauge what consequences will follow.”

As he spoke, his left hand quietly moved toward his waist.

“If you want to act bold, don’t make these petty, embarrassing gestures.”

The umbrella’s edge lifted, revealing Wang Qi’s pair of eyes flashing with contempt.

“Moreover, I am here today to collect money, not to beg for it—do you truly not understand, or are you feigning ignorance?”

“Friend, I don’t understand how you could say that.”

The man’s motion of feeling his waist halted abruptly, then he naturally brought his hand back forward, his expression unchanged.

“Perhaps there’s a misunderstanding between us and the Changxing Society? As the old saying goes, grievances should be resolved, not nurtured—if you’d like, tell me the full story today, and I’ll take charge to mediate; what do you think?”

The final exit's 'He' character held no softness, ringing out like a thunderclap.

The ruffian's eyes flashed with fierce cruelty as he lunged forward, snapping out his right hand; thumb and forefinger pinched the still‑burning cigarette butt, the remaining three fingers clenched like a blade, thrusting straight at Wang Qi's eye socket!

This move was clearly a killing technique from some martial art, sudden in its onset and fierce in its attack.

Even if the umbrella‑wielding man before him truly possessed a few tricks, dodging would be nearly impossible.

The thug anticipated this, and his underlings nearby shared the same expectation.

Yet the unfolding events dashed their expectations; the hand‑blade aimed at the eyes sliced through the rain and struck nothing.

"Puk gai, he's a tough nut!"

The thug's heart sank, and he cursed under his breath in Cantonese slang.

Before he could even ponder how the man had evaded his killing strike, a surge of explosive pain from his chest swallowed his consciousness.

The thug couldn't fathom it, but the lackeys cheering him on saw it clearly.

At the instant his boss launched a sneak attack, the umbrella‑holding man seemed prescient, shifting his feet minutely to one side.

As he dodged the eye‑stabbing blade, the opponent shot forward, the black umbrella's canopy drawn tight, held inverted in his right hand, and thrust upward; the metal shaft smashed hard into his boss's chest!

Thud!

The thug's burly body flew up like a torn sack, landing with a dull 'plop' as he knelt on the ground, head bowed, crimson blood spreading beneath him.

Bang!

The umbrella sprang open again, two fingers reaching from beneath to snatch the cigarette butt the thug had flung away.

"Looks like I wasn't wrong; the Changxing Society truly intends to rebel."

Wang Qi spoke with excitement, flicking his finger; the cigarette butt, still trailing blue smoke, dropped into an eye wide with terror.

"From the hour of Zi to Chou today, a storm will move from Lingding Yang toward the Pearl River estuary, covering areas such as Lantau, Shatou, Xin'an, etc.; the Guangzhou prefectural office hereby warns all citizens to stay indoors, lock doors and windows, and avoid unnecessary movement."

The shadow cast on the corner wall twisted and writhed, its sound breaking up into fragmented bursts before descending into an unsettling screech, until no words could be discerned and finally a faint 'hiss' faded away.

Tonight in Xin'an County, even the 'Huangliang' that linked it to the outside world seemed severed by the raging wind and rain.

The open windows were lashed by driving rain, swaying left and right; damp cold wind poured in, scattering the rising steam from the copper pot.

A pair of chopsticks plunged into the churning broth, lifting a piece of tender, stewed dog meat, which was lightly coated in the sauce dish.

His scalp shaved smooth, his massive frame tattooed with garish, frightening patterns, he swallowed the fiery mouthful, then finally nodded in satisfaction.

"Master Huo, the men of the Former Mountain Gate have come."

A middle‑aged man slipped in quietly, bowed his waist, and respectfully addressed the man who was feasting heartily.

The man wielded his chopsticks like lightning, deaf to the middle‑aged man's words.

Seeing this, the middle‑aged man hesitated a moment, then spoke cautiously: "Master Huo, since they are after all the Former Mountain Gate, perhaps I should find an excuse to pacify them first."

A pair of long chopsticks jabbed into the pot's bottom, violently stirring, sending broth splashing everywhere, yet after a while not a single decent morsel could be scooped out.

The man, still unsatisfied, smacked his thick lips, tossed aside the chopsticks, lifted the pot despite its scalding heat, and gulped down the broth in one gulp.

"What the hell is this 'Former Mountain Gate'? It's clearly the Celestial Void. A bunch of down‑and‑out old fogeys trying to latch onto us for blood, yet terrified of being discovered, they hide their heads and reveal their tails—gutless scum!"

The empty copper pot was tossed aside; Huo Hua Dan wiped his greasy, red‑oil‑slicked lips, his ever‑unsatisfied gaze falling on the middle‑aged man, the naked greed in it making him shudder.

What's wrong with Master Huo?

"Old Min, go tell him to get lost at once, and let him know that not only this period, but from now on the Changxing Society won't pay them a single copper coin!"

"Master Huo, that isn't quite proper."

Huo Hua Dan's eyes narrowed, a scarlet tongue licking his ivory teeth: "What's wrong with that? I tell you to go, you go."

"Chief Huo, you're putting on quite the show!"

Just then, the door of this room on the second floor of the Changxing Restaurant burst open with a crash, and a figure stepped slowly inside.

The tip of the folded umbrella touched the ground, tracing not a wet line but a narrow ribbon of blood.

Wang Qi strode straight in, ignoring the wary Old Min, and took his seat at the square table, facing Huo Hua Dan, who wore a strange grin.

The umbrella, its fabric shredded from stabbing many bodies, lay across the table; the still‑wet blood quickly spread outward.

Huo Hua Dan snorted, his large nostrils flaring, his cloudy eyes fixed unblinkingly on Wang Qi.

"Your Highness, I never expected you to come in person—what great matter brings you here?"

"Chief Huo, your underlings are nearly all slain by me, yet you sit here playing dumb—aren't you just bored?"

Wang Qi, feeling uneasy under the stare, furrowed his brow and asked: "I ask you—why hasn't the payment for the fifteenth ninth‑grade martial‑learning injectors arrived by the due date?"

"Ah, it's just over this little matter."

Huo Hua Dan rubbed his tattooed bald head, grinning: "The goods never sold, so of course the money can't be paid—such a simple truth, don't you understand, Your Highness?"

Wang Qi narrowed his eyes, voice cold: "Huo Hua Dan, are you timid or bold? You dare to blackmail even the Former Mountain Gate's funds—do you have a death wish?"

"You can't put it that way; even the Former Mountain Gate expects reason—if the goods haven't left hand, what am I supposed to pay with?"

"If you can't come up with the money, then hand over the goods. If the Changxing Society can't sell them, we won't need you to sell anymore—there are plenty in Xin'an County who can take over this trade."

"That makes sense."

Huo Hua Dan licked the saliva at the corner of his mouth, smiling: "Still, over the years my Changxing Society has done plenty for your Celestial Void—no merit, but hard labor. One slip‑up shouldn't merit death, yet you, Your Highness, slaughter my people without distinction—isn't that a bit against the rules?"

"It's not the Former Mountain Gate—it's the Celestial Void!"

Wang Qi heard those two words with crystal clarity, and a cold smile curled his lips.

It seems this Huo Hua Dan learned of the Celestial Void's existence from elsewhere!

Could it be that his rebellion this time is meant to use that secret to blackmail the Celestial Void? He truly has no idea what he's getting into.

Wang Qi laughed: "The people—I've already killed them; do you really want me to pay for their lives?"

"Paying with life isn't necessary; even if the sect's martial order has declined, a rank‑eight warrior wouldn't be reduced to compensating a bunch of nobodies. Otherwise, I'd be belittling myself."

Huo Hua Dan leaned back, tapping the armrest lightly, as if mentioning a trivial matter, and said calmly: "The dead—I need not quarrel with you over them; I could even hand over the entire Changxing Society for you to account for, if you agree to one small request."

Wang Qi uttered an "Oh," smirked, and asked: "What little thing could be worth so much?"

"It is, let me."

Huo Hua Dan bared a mouth of sharp fangs, his voice carrying an uncanny eeriness: "Let me taste your flavor."

No sooner had the words left his lips than a black shadow erupted, lunging at Wang Qi.

Pfft!

Ever‑vigilant, Wang Qi snatched the umbrella from the table, thrust it straight into the mouth of the middle‑aged man called Old Min, pierced through the back of his skull, and pinned him to the wooden‑planked floor.

"Lone Walker. Truly a lone walker—this flavor is surely delicious! Delicious!"

A beast‑like howl exploded overhead; Wang Qi hesitated not, thrusting his spine forward, planting his left foot, and driving his right knee upward into the opponent's abdomen.

This low‑knee strike came with savage force and immense power; were it to land on an ordinary person, it would smash his entrails into a bloody pulp.

But the opponent before him was also a rank‑eight Huo Hua Dan, so Wang Qi's move wasn't meant to kill—just to force him back.

Bang!

The knee strike hit the ground with startling impact, sending out a profoundly dull thud.

Hua Danhuo lurched like a mind‑crazed beast, devoid of any martial finesse, he took Wang Qi’s strike head‑on, reeling back step after step, his landings so ponderous they set the whole Changxing Inn shaking.

Has this man lost his mind?

Wang Qi felt a cold weight settle in his chest, suspicion blooming instantly, but his steps did not falter—he surged forward, exploiting the opening.

Whatever sorcery you’re weaving, death will make you compliant.

Wang Qi closed in on Hua Danhuo, his fists screaming forward, pounding relentlessly at the foe’s exposed vitals.

Hua Danhuo appeared to have lost both offense and defense, his stare ravenous, allowing the barrage of fists to wash over him while he clumsily swiped at Wang Qi’s evasive form.

Despite his dominance, Wang Qi felt a growing dread gnaw at his chest with each blow.

It was not merely that Hua Danhuo remained upright after relentless strikes, but also the horror of his wild eyes and the drool flung from his lips.

A sudden, unexplained cold crept up Wang Qi’s chest.

Damn you!

A savage grin twisted Wang Qi’s visage; he launched himself skyward, right leg tensed like a spring, hips torquing, foot lashing out like a saber to cleave Hua Danhuo’s throat.

Snap!

With a chorus of splintering bone, Hua Danhuo’s body burst through the wall and was flung into the pounding rain.

Amidst the shattered façade, Wang Qi touched down, withdrawing two Wei Wu arms from his fluttering garments, leveling them at the lower floor and driving the triggers home.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The reports echoed long after they ceased, but Wang Qi’s face remained unsoftened, darkening further into a corpse‑like hue.

Hua Danhuo, sprawled below, lurched upright once more, his severed neck letting his head loll awkwardly upon his shoulder, his puffed, crimson gaze locked relentlessly on the floor above.

The bullet‑torn fabric fell away to expose cavernous pits of necrotic tissue, some fingertip‑sized, others fist‑large, where grotesque organs throbbed without cease.

A wave of putrid rot surged upward, so fierce that even the relentless rain could not conceal it, pouring into Wang Qi’s nose.

What in the devil’s name is this abomination?!