Chapter 93: The Revival Faction of the Embroidered Uniform Guard

Chapter 93: The Embroidered Uniform Guard Revival Faction

Chengdu Prefecture, Jie'e District, Ghost Street.

A fatty clad in silk trousers and jacket moved nimbly through the crowd.

By all rights, a figure of such build and attire appearing on Ghost Street would undoubtedly become the prime 'mark' for every faction operating here.

Yet, for some unknown reason.

At this moment, whether it was the peddlers squatting in street corners hawking contraband, the porcelain-bumping scam artists blending in the throng, or even the passersby brushing past the fatty's side, they all treated him as if he were invisible.

*Ding...*

A wooden plaque at the fatty's waist swayed slightly, emitting a crisp, wind-chime-like sound.

The fatty moved with clear purpose, lingering not amidst the dizzying array of stalls, turning familiarly into a dark, secluded alley.

Compared to the main street, this alley was noticeably more cramped, yet this did not hinder the fatty's unimpeded progress in the slightest.

Everyone blocking his path seemed pushed aside by an invisible pair of hands, stumbling left and right to crash into the stalls propped against the walls.

For a time, the wet *pu-chi* sounds of crushed viscera and the clattering *hua-la* of shattered glass rose and fell in succession throughout the alley.

A host of stall owners whose wares were ruined forcibly suppressed the delight in their hearts, deliberately squeezing out furious expressions as they clung relentlessly to the bewildered passersby, demanding compensation.

No one noticed that a path had inexplicably parted in the originally narrow, crowded throng, wide enough for two to walk abreast.

The fatty turned a deaf ear to the clamor behind him, walking all the way to the alley's deepest end, stopping before an iron gate whose immense thickness needed no measuring.

A wooden nameplate was embedded in the gray wall beside the great gate.

Crow Clinic.

Though this was not his first visit, this time the fatty chose to stand honestly at the door and knock.

He still had to leave a good impression; that was the only way to get things done.

*Hua-la!*

A crack opened in the iron gate, revealing a pair of clear, cold, indifferent eyes.

"Consultation or prescription? If it's a prescription, come back later; the one who writes the formulas is out."

The fatty squeezed out what he considered a benevolent smile. "Consultation."

"What's the problem?"

"Palpitations, a constant feeling of unease."

"We don't treat mental illness here."

The owner of the eyes dropped this cold line and moved to slide the gate's crack shut.

"Wait."

The fatty called out, feigning caution as he glanced around, lifting a corner of his clothes to reveal stacks upon stacks of bright red Great Ming Treasure Notes taped to his belly.

"Triad member, or fugitive?"

Crow Duoduo's eyes lit up. In that split second just now, she had seen no less than a hundred thousand in cash.

And this method of carrying money was used only by those two types of people unwilling to use bank cards.

Coincidentally, these were exactly the Crow Clinic's favorite clients.

The fatty feigned anger. "Since when do Ghost Street doctors not know the rules, asking a patient's identity?"

Unexpectedly, the moment his voice fell, the door crack *hua-la* snapped shut.

The fatty's expression instantly froze. What was going on? Was this girl's temper this volatile?

Before he could react, a series of *pi-li-pa-la* sounds came from behind the door—who knew how many locks were being undone—followed by the great gate sliding open soundlessly.

"If you want a consultation, come in."

The fatty quickly squeezed inside, barely navigating the corridor piled high with clutter, arriving at the vast consultation room.

"Come, lie down, we're cutting."

Perhaps fearing to scare off this first-time VIP guest, Crow Duoduo produced a pair of yellowed rubber gloves from somewhere, donned them, and only then jerked her chin at the fatty.

The fatty's eye twitched. "Little Doctor, this isn't right. You haven't even diagnosed what ails me, how are we already on the operating table?"

"Clinic specialty: Five Viscera Observation. Once cut open, any problem becomes clear as day."

Having hung around her grandpa for so long, Crow Duoduo had learned the art of grifting eight or nine parts out of ten. The indifferent expression on her young face added several degrees of persuasiveness out of thin air.

"Crow Clinic has always had a sterling reputation among Ghost Street peers. If I can't cure you, I won't charge a consultation fee."

No consultation fee, but there could be a surgical fee.

Hearing this, the fatty hesitated. His face was concealed by a Daoist technique; if they cut him open and saw blood, the illusion would fail.

Though last time he had knocked the grandfather-granddaughter duo out with a Soul-Driving Talisman beforehand, Li Jun was close to them; there was no guarantee a moment of madness wouldn't leak his appearance and identity.

If this girl recognized him, things would get messy.

The fatty's thoughts spun, and he smiled. "No need for surgery. A heart ailment naturally requires heart medicine."

"Hm?"

Crow Duoduo frowned, voice cold. "We have no heart medicine here. We do have fresh blood, though. Want some?"

*Ka-ka-ka.*

A string of mechanical clicks rang out as a firepower matrix unfurled down from the ceiling.

A mocking smile flicked through the fatty's eyes. He quipped, "Your clinic's decor is quite unique."

He raised a short, thick finger and gave a slight shake; that firepower matrix actually obediently retracted itself back up.

She hacked the matrix's control permissions that easily?!

Crow Duoduo's pupils shrank violently. Her right hand went to her lower back, where a straight razor was tucked into the belt of her horse-face skirt.

"If you want money, name a price. But too much and I can't afford it."

The fatty shook his head. "Not money. I want a person."

Crow Duoduo's face was ice, her eyes flashing with ruthlessness and resolve. "Then you'll get a corpse at most. If that interests you, the freezer is full of them."

The fatty smiled slyly. "Don't misunderstand. I've no interest in a little girl flat as a board front and back. I want you to do a job for me."

"Delusional."

The girl held the blade, killing intent surging.

"Nothing is absolute. What if I told you the job targets the Three Teachings? Would you be interested then?"

The Three Teachings...

Crow Duoduo's knife-wielding wrist trembled. She feigned calm. "Who are you?"

"Though you're young, you've scrambled in Ghost Street for years. You should have heard the words 'Embroidered Uniform Guard', no?"

Imperial authority specially sanctioned, execute first, report later.

Eight large characters flashed into the girl's mind like fire thrown on oil. A pair of clear, cold eyes instantly blazed hot.

The fatty, seeing this, was just preparing to accept the girl's prostrate kowtow, but never expected that after a few blinks, those eyes swiftly dimmed.

"The Brocade Guard, so what? Aren't they still raised by the Three Teachings."

Crow Blossom shut her mouth, swallowing the rest of her words back down.

"No need to hide and conceal; there's nothing that can't be said. Indeed, quite a few Brocade Guards have yielded beneath the Three Teachings' tyranny, willing to serve as their running dogs."

"But absolutely not all Brocade Guards are stingy with this life of theirs, willing to cling to a cowardly existence."

The fatty's face straightened, his expression solemn: "Though our Restoration Faction's numbers are few, we have never once thought to bow our heads. So long as we can expel the Three Teachings and restore the imperial authority, we are willing to meet death."