Chapter 718: Extra 2: Sleeves Stained with Red Blood

Chapter 718 Extra Two: Sleeves Stained with Crimson Blood

The sky darkened as if to snow, cold currents drifting away.

Lin Jinjiang, hands tucked into his sleeves, walked along the dilapidated streets of the Shibati slums, cheerfully looking around.

Having built his fortune from the brothel business, though now a far cry from his former self, he felt not the slightest discomfort in this mixed and chaotic place; instead, it brought him a sense of homecoming ease and contentment.

In the second month of the lunar year, Chongqing Prefecture was at its coldest.

During this season, the hotpot shops lining the streets and alleys entered their peak period, every doorway crowded with customers, the bustle of people and the steam of pots both boiling over. Fragrance drifted into the cold wind, making passersby halt, mouths watering and fingers twitching in appetite.

"Truly a destined pair of master and disciple, both fond of this taste."

Lin Jinjiang smiled to himself, lifting his eyes to a wooden signboard caked with grease overhead. The four big characters "Thousand-Year Old Shop" stood out conspicuously, even deliberately encircled with a strip of fiery red lights, visible from afar.

Whether it had truly been open for a thousand years, Lin Jinjiang had his doubts, but the shop's business was undeniably bustling beyond words.

As the door pushed open, the clamor rushed forth, a murky, spicy air drilling into his nostrils.

A copper pot coated in red oil, filled with aged broth boiled from ox spine, bubbled and roiled. Waiters in bare arms, stripped to the waist, moved like the wind, weaving through the cramped shop.

Heads bobbed and jostled; many diners sat practically back to back, yet no one complained about the environment. Long chopsticks and short chopsticks plunged into the pot, voices shouting and calling over cups of wine.

Lin Jinjiang swept his gaze around, squeezed through the gaps in the crowd with difficulty, and after offering many apologetic smiles, finally reached a table. He smiled at the man buried in his meal: "Sorry, I'm a bit late."

The man kept his head down, his features hidden. He wore an ordinary blue scholar's robe of plain cloth, unremarkable except for the two circles of blood-red rings embroidered at the cuffs.

This was the emblem of the Jinling Crimson Society.

"Mmm."

The man didn't lift his head, grunting indistinctly, indicating Lin Jinjiang to sit.

Lin Jinjiang, already tantalized by the aroma, didn't stand on ceremony. He pulled out a long stool and sat down.

The two plied their chopsticks like flying, silent for a time.

Only when the bubbling red soup had reduced to nothing but a few seasoning spices did they both stop at once.

"One?"

Lin Jinjiang caught the cigarette tossed to him, held it in his fingers without lighting it, and stared steadily at the other.

"What, don't know how?"

"I do."

Lin Jinjiang smiled. "I'm just a bit surprised by the change in you."

Ffft!

A wisp of flame leaped up. In the rising faint white smoke was a face bearing a hint of weathered sorrow.

Lin Jinjiang was reluctant to apply the word "weathered" to someone so young, but aside from that, he found himself unable to think of any other suitable term for those eyes.

"Have I changed?"

"Yes, and greatly." Lin Jinjiang's tone was certain.

"That's a good thing—only the dead remain unchanged."

Yang Baize's tone was calm as he asked, "Want to move to a quieter place?"

"No need, here is fine."

Lin Jinjiang said hastily. Yang Baize, hearing this, did not insist, only lightly waved a hand.

Though there was no trace of any sequence power being used, the surrounding noise instantly softened.

Voices fell silent, and the bubbling of the soup sounded especially harsh.

Lin Jinjiang shifted uncomfortably on the bench, pursed his lips, and asked in a joking tone: "Surely this shop isn't all filled with your Crimson Society people?"

"All of them."

To his surprise, Yang Baize nodded earnestly.

"Recently, those hyenas from the Clan Society Party have been nipping at our heels. Though they likely lack the nerve to infiltrate the Peace Hotel's territory, it's better to be cautious."

Yang Baize said this lightly, but Lin Jinjiang's heart trembled.

As a "big figure" now commanding millions of followers in Huangliang, Lin Jinjiang's sources of information were quite rich—rivaling even some large organizations. Naturally, he had heard of the organization known as the Clan Society Party.

After the Battle of Jinling, the backbone of the old Ming dynasty was nearly wiped out, and the Confucian Order clans that had depended on the Zhu family also suffered heavy losses. But they were deep-rooted and deeply entrenched, and did not collapse along with the Great Ming Empire. Instead, they shifted from light to shadow, lurking in various parts of the newly born Ming lands.

Logically, given the Confucian Order's usual temperament, after suffering such a brutal defeat, they should have concealed their forms, hidden obediently in the shadows to lick their wounds and recover their strength.

But these clans went against their past habits. They didn't sweep their own snow, nor did they hit a man when he was down. Instead, they huddled together tightly to form the Clan Society Party.

In the former Southern Zhili region, they carried out assassinations of Crimson Society members everywhere. The two sides frequently clashed, with casualties on both sides.

The reason these scholars were so fearless was naturally not face or reputation, but tangible survival.

After the collapse of the Great Ming Empire, the "official career" lineage of the Confucian Order lost the court system it relied on for survival, becoming trees without roots and water without a source.

In other words, their path to sequence advancement had been severed. Even if they hid without resisting, these "official career Confucians" would gradually degrade over time until they died from genetic decay.

And if they wanted to reforge that path, there were only two ways.

One was to establish a brand-new dynasty; the other was to restore the old Zhu Ming Dynasty.

Given the current situation in the Ming lands, the first method was basically impossible. The second method, though equally slim in hope, was comparatively less difficult, since the Zhu Ming had only recently fallen and some commoners were still willing to support them.

Thus, these clans once again colluded with the remnants of the Honghu, plotting a restoration.

Lin Jinjiang had even heard that among the high ranks of the Clan Society Party, there were still some unmanifested bloodlines of the Zhu family, waiting only for the right moment to raise the dragon flag again and contend for the Ming lands.

However, no matter how much truth or falsehood these rumors held, the former Zhu Ming imperial family had now completely become puppets in others' hands, with no chance to turn things around.

"I suppose we've started talking now?"

Yang Baize looked at Lin Jinjiang, whose expression had stiffened, and smiled: "Don't you need to manifest your document?"

"Not this time. This time I plan to do it differently—I'll upload the full account to Huangliang after we finish talking."

Lin Jinjiang's smile was awkward. He already felt a pang of regret, regretting that his invitation this time had been too rash, overlooking Yang Baize's status as the leader of the Crimson Society.

On top of that, the other's transformation was so great it startled him, leaving Lin Jinjiang secretly anxious that if he rashly released the conversation to his audience, it might very well...

"Worried that I might incite your spectators?"

Yang Baize saw through Lin Jinjiang's thoughts in a glance and laughed: "Relax. People have their own aspirations. The Crimson Society never forces anyone, and certainly does not put friends in a difficult position."

"I was being petty and judging a gentleman by my own mean measure."

Lin Jinjiang put on a shameful front, clasped his fists, and said: "Then shall I begin asking?"

"Please."

Lin Jinjiang drank the tea on the table in one gulp, desperately focusing his mind, shifting the focus of the conversation from the Crimson Society to Yang Baize himself.

"You've come to like hotpot too now. Are you reminiscing about someone?"

"That's not the whole reason. I myself am from Shu—loving spice is an innate instinct. And I've found that eating spicy food keeps one alert; only when clear-headed can one think better."

"Think about what?"

Lin Jinjiang blurted out without thinking, then saw Yang Baize close his mouth and remain silent, an ambiguous expression on his face. He immediately realized he had asked a pointless question.

What else could there be to think about? Naturally, only how to develop the Crimson Society, how to root out the Ancestral Society Party and kill them all.

“Haha.”

Lin Jinjiang gave an embarrassed laugh; this was the first time he had been overwhelmed by the demeanor of an interviewee.

He understood in his heart that to continue the conversation, he could not avoid Yang Baize’s identity no matter what, so rather than continue being coy and evasive, he might as well be straightforward and open.

Having made up his mind, Lin Jinjiang lowered his head to light that cigarette, only to discover that it had somehow been dampened by the sweat in his palm.

“I heard that the New Eastern Forest Academy has reopened for enrollment?”

Lin Jinjiang held the cigarette close to the stove fire, warming it as he asked.

“The New Eastern Forest Academy never closed; it was only because after Lord Zhang left, the position of Academy Head remained vacant, so it temporarily suspended operations.”

Lin Jinjiang’s expression shifted with surprise, and he asked: “So now there is a new Academy Head? Who is it?”

“You know him too, Zhang Siyuan.”

Yang Baize sighed rarely: “In truth, with his abilities, being an Academy Head is a waste of his talents. It would be more proper for him to lead the Crimson Society. Unfortunately, he has no interest in that, and only wants to teach and nurture students.”

“Perhaps that is exactly what Lord Zhang hoped for him. Lord Zhang’s life was so arduous; naturally he would not want his son to follow in his footsteps.”

Lin Jinjiang took over the conversation: “To be honest, Zhang Siyuan’s willingness to become the Academy Head of New Eastern Forest Academy is already quite surprising. I originally thought he would cast everything aside, travel the world, and become a free mountain recluse.”

“It seems you know him well.”

Yang Baize laughed: “Uncle truly does not want to be tied down, so he only agreed to help me manage the New Eastern Forest Academy for ten years, and the students recruited cannot be limited to the Confucian Sequence; all aspiring individuals can enter and study.”

“Academy Head Zhang is a good man too.”

Lin Jinjiang was full of emotion, but his gaze uncontrollably drifted to the streak of crimson at Yang Baize’s cuff.

“A scholar, without having the Six Arts Chip implanted, might have to study hard for ten years to advance to Sequence Nine Scholar, cultivate prudence and diligence to become a Gentleman, encounter a patron’s favor to become Sequence Seven Disciple, then enter the palace gates, don official robes, eat imperial grain, and from Sequence Six Official climb step by step, passing through the three Dragon Gates of Yellow Gate Attendant, Minister of Earth, and Minister of Heaven; only one in ten thousand might finally become a party leader, with hope of attaining Sequence One, the Eternal Teacher of the Confucian Sequence.”

Lin Jinjiang finished reciting the entire sequence of the Confucian Sequence in one breath, and said gravely: “But now the Great Ming Empire has fallen, and the official career path can be considered completely severed. Now, relying solely on the academy lineage, can it compensate for the missing Dragon Gates of the Confucian Sequence?”

After going around in circles, the topic eventually returned to the current predicament of the Confucian Sequence.

In fact, Lin Jinjiang still had a sentence he did not utter: that many of the current Crimson Society’s core members were also from the official career lineage, including Zhang Siyuan and Yang Baize. If they could not transfer their sequences to the academy lineage, they would face the same fate as the aristocrats.

Unless, the Crimson Society’s ultimate goal was also to establish a new official career system.

“In fact, ‘Academy Head’ is the name for Sequence Three in the Confucian academy lineage.”

Yang Baize said slowly: “Many years ago, when Lord Zhang stepped down from the Academy Head of New Eastern Forest Academy and resolved to enter officialdom, he had already attained Sequence Three of the Confucian academy lineage, so the claim of compensating for missing parts does not exist. Moreover, the special nature of the Confucian Sequence allows its followers to switch between the two lineages after meeting certain conditions, so the Crimson Society is worry-free.”

Lin Jinjiang’s heart skipped a beat: “Then why did the aristocrats establish the Ancestral Society Party, to risk universal condemnation?”

“Because I do not agree to let the New Eastern Forest Academy accept them again. Without this condition, they can only be remnants of the former dynasty. The aristocrats like to offer repeated surrenders, but for traitors, I have only one answer—”

Yang Baize said coldly: “Kill!”

As his words fell, the air in the shop suddenly turned cold.

Lin Jinjiang remained expressionless, scanning left and right with his peripheral vision. Those Crimson Society members disguised as diners all sat upright with solemn expressions, an atmosphere of murderous intent.

Now he fully understood why those remnants of the aristocrats were fixated on Yang Baize—it turned out that Yang gave them no way out.

Now it was the third year of the New Calendar, merely thirty-six months—enough for a newborn child to learn to open a book, but not yet to learn many characters.

Yet it was enough to turn a passionate young man’s heart as hard as iron and his hand as cold as a blade.

But Lin Jinjiang knew he had no right to judge right or wrong. As a Miscellaneous Sequence, his mission was only to record and spread.

“Then after killing off the official career lineage, where will the Crimson Society go?”

Lin Jinjiang frowned slightly and asked in a low voice: “Or rather, what do you think the future of Mingtu will be like?”

“War.”

Yang Baize did not conceal anything and said without hesitation: “A war will inevitably break out in the future, but it may not necessarily erupt within Mingtu, between the current major powers. In my view, it will be an external invasion.”

“Barbarians?”

Lin Jinjiang was taken aback and asked: “Does the Crimson Society want to help them resist?”

“Of course not.”

Yang Baize grinned, using a cigarette butt—he had lost count of how many—to light a new cigarette.

“It is to find them a new master!”

“You all came quite early. But that bastard Zou Sijiu—how is it that the bigger his enterprise grows, the stingier he becomes? He didn’t even arrange meals for guests from afar, leaving you to eat in a cramped corner like this?”

Outside the shop, before a figure had even stepped through the door, a hearty laugh burst in first.

“Uncle, you’ve finally arrived.”

Yang Baize, his face full of smiles, rose to greet him.

The group of Crimson Society members also bowed with clasped hands one after another, saying in unison: “Academy Head!”

“What are you all dressed up like this for, pretending to be gangsters? Have you eaten your fill? If so, then get the hell out.”

Zhang Siyuan, who had entered the shop, rolled his eyes in annoyance, sat down unceremoniously next to Lin Jinjiang, and pulled out a pair of chopsticks, tapping them on the table.

“Waiter, bring me the same dishes these two just ate, all over again!”

Zhang Siyuan shouted: “I need to fill my stomach quickly. I heard that later on, Master Ma has prepared a bare-knuckle battle with overwhelming odds for us at the Gold Tower. The situation is extremely critical—we must rush to support!”