Vol. 2 - Ch. 55 - The Sixth Prince

Jingzhou Prefecture, Jiangling City.

Yuelai Inn.

Da Ming lay flat on the bed, eyes blank, staring at the wall.

Suddenly—

A hand reached over and grabbed him by the collar.

“How long do you plan to keep lying there?”

Xiong Shan’s voice held a hint of fury.

Da Ming turned his dazed face toward Xiong Shan, his eyes lifeless, void of any spark.

Xiuxiu’s death had hit him like a landslide.

He’d spent over twenty days chopping trees without rest, then walked for another twenty-plus days on foot.

At last, he arrived at Jiangling City.

He thought he was finally going to see the girl he had longed for day and night.

But what awaited him… was news of her death.

At that moment, Da Ming felt utterly drained.

Exhausted—more than any day spent hacking away at trees.

Xiong Shan looked at Da Ming’s blank expression and hollow eyes and felt a fire rise in his chest.

A grown man, falling apart over a woman’s death?

What’s the big deal?

There were women everywhere—no need to hang yourself from one tree.

Yesterday, after hearing of Xiuxiu’s death, Da Ming became agitated and insisted on seeing the body.

Xiong Shan had to physically stop him.

The yamen would never allow someone like Da Ming near the corpse.

As for sneaking in…

Neither of them knew any lightfoot kung fu. Sneaking in was a pipe dream.

After much persuasion from Xiong Shan, Da Ming finally calmed down, retreated into the bedroom, and sat there, staring at the wall like a statue.

No food. No sleep.

He’d stayed like that all day.

Xiong Shan had once admired Da Ming greatly, but seeing him like this, he could only feel disappointment.

“Xiuxiu is dead. So what now?”

“You planning to kill yourself for love?” Xiong Shan asked coldly.

Da Ming’s dead eyes finally rippled with emotion. He lowered his head.

A face flashed through his mind—Chen Ye’s.

If he died now, wouldn't Father be devastated?

The thought brought tears streaming from his eyes.

“Brother Xiong, I…”

“I…”

“I just… I’m hurting…”

“I’m so tired… Tired like never before… even more than chopping trees…”

Da Ming broke down, sobbing.

There was nothing left of the boy who once split a second-grade expert in half with a single swing atop the ridge.

The real him surfaced.

Crying like this… he truly looked like a twelve-year-old child.

Seeing Da Ming cry so bitterly, Xiong Shan let out a sigh.

He had almost forgotten—Da Ming was only twelve years old.

That towering height of nearly 1.8 meters, that broad, muscular build—he often forgot the boy's real age.

Xiong Shan wrapped an arm around Da Ming, patting his shoulder gently. “It’s just a woman. She’s gone, that’s all.”

“You barely even saw her a few times, and now you’re like this.”

Da Ming suddenly threw his arms around Xiong Shan, squeezing him tight, tears pouring, soaking Xiong Shan’s clothes.

A while passed.

“Cough—cough—cough!”

After a few words of comfort, Xiong Shan began to cough, his face flushed.

He hurriedly patted Da Ming’s shoulder. “Brother Ming, ease up a little!”

“I can’t breathe!”

Da Ming sniffled and let go.

Xiong Shan sucked in large gulps of air.

Da Ming’s strength was no joke. That hug just now—he thought he was about to get crushed.

Catching his breath, Xiong Shan wiped the tears off Da Ming’s face and grumbled, “And what good does moping like that do?”

“If you’re angry, then go take revenge on that bastard White Stripe in the waves!”

“You chopped a second-grade master to death with one swing. You think that White Stripe in the waves guy could stop you?”

Da Ming shook his head.

After the crying, the knot in his chest had loosened.

His voice was hoarse. “No…”

“Brother Xiong, White Stipe in the waves—Zhang Shun—he would never do such a thing.”

“Someone else killed Xiuxiu.”

A sharp light flared in Da Ming’s swollen eyes.

Xiong Shan looked confused. “Why do you say that?”

Da Ming’s simple, honest face curled into a bitter smile.

“Because…”

“White Stripe in the waves, Zhang Shun… he’s my sworn brother.”

“That nickname—only he and I know its meaning.”

A shadow of sorrow passed over Da Ming’s face.

The orphanage’s library had once been open to all the children.

But two years ago, Chen Ye confiscated the picture book version of Water Margin, refusing to let them read it anymore.

Sun Sheng had fallen under its influence and gone down the path of a bandit.

Chen Ye didn’t want any other child to repeat that mistake.

So in the whole orphanage, only Da Ming and Sun Sheng had read Water Margin. Only they understood the meanings behind the 108 nicknames.

Xiong Shan raised an eyebrow.

That White Stripe in the waves was said to be a pirate from Lake Tai. How could a mere woodcutter like Da Ming claim him as a brother?

Though he had doubts, Xiong Shan now understood Da Ming’s point.

He nodded. “So, you trust him. You believe he’s not the killer.”

Da Ming clenched his fists tightly and nodded hard. “That’s right.”

There was exhaustion on his face.

He had considered revenge.

But he knew—Sun Sheng would never kill an innocent.

The real killer must be someone else.

Xiong Shan sat beside him, frowning deeply, but no clear thoughts came.

Still, seeing Da Ming’s eyes regain clarity and his mind return to normal, Xiong Shan finally relaxed.

He had really admired Da Ming and was worried the boy might starve himself to death like some lovesick scholar.

But now, after this outburst, the boy was back to normal—and that eased Xiong Shan’s heart.

“Feeling a bit better?” he asked gently.

Da Ming nodded, eyes still red, his expression dull.

Xiuxiu’s death was a blow he could neither accept nor deny.

Xiong Shan gave Da Ming’s shoulder a firm pat.

“I’ve got some business to handle. You hungry?”

“Want me to have the innkeeper send up some food?”

Da Ming shook his head.

“All right then. Brother Ming, wait here for an hour. I’ll go get us some proper stewed meat. We’ll feast when I return.”

He gave Da Ming’s shoulder another pat.

He’d actually arrived in Jiangling yesterday. There was something he should’ve done right away…

But Da Ming had been on the verge of collapse, so he’d delayed it a full day.

Now that Da Ming seemed stable, not likely to throw himself into a grave, it was time for Xiong Shan to handle his business.

Da Ming forced a stiff smile. “Go ahead, Brother Xiong. Thank you.”

Xiong Shan gave a hearty laugh. “What are you thanking me for?”

“You and I—fellow men of honor. Without you, I might’ve died back on that ridge.”

With that, he laughed loudly, grabbed the straw hat from the table, and put it on.

Xiong Shan pushed open the door and strode out of the inn.

Da Ming remained on the bed, staring at the doorway.

A long moment passed before he reached into his clothes and pulled out a brocade pouch.

He opened it, and took out a tiger tooth necklace.

Three pale yellow fangs, carved with delicate patterns, smooth and warm to the touch.

Da Ming’s large, calloused hand gripped the necklace.

Tightly.

Very tightly.

…

Wearing his straw hat, Xiong Shan walked briskly down the street.

The skies over Jiangling had cleared, a bright blue now stretched above.

The sun hung high overhead, and the ground still steamed with the heat from the earlier rain. The air was thick, muggy.

And filled with smells.

The scent of rain, of wet earth, of rotting corpses… all mixed into one foul blend.

Xiong Shan wrinkled his nose and quickened his pace.

Suddenly, he stopped, staring in disbelief at the stone-paved street ahead.

There—more than ten handcarts being pushed by men.

Behind them, a middle-aged man in deep blue official robes strode calmly. Soldiers flanked him on all sides.

Xiong Shan recognized the carts immediately—they were for transporting relief silver.

His face clouded with confusion.

What’s going on here?

He narrowed his eyes at the men’s clothing and spotted the embroidery on the hems: a leaf emblem.

“Yuye Hall!”

“They’re from Yuye Hall!”

Xiong Shan’s eyes lit with realization.

Yuye Hall was the largest assassin organization in the southeastern region of the Dawu Dynasty.

Rumor had it that a grandmaster stood behind them—a real force in the martial world.

Still, Xiong Shan couldn’t understand.

How had Yuye Hall gotten hold of the relief silver?

He thought about it, but couldn’t figure it out. In the end, he stopped trying.

Since Yuye Hall had helped deliver the silver, it meant they weren’t all bad.

Yesterday, he’d been too occupied with Da Ming to report the missing silver to the authorities.

Now that Yuye Hall had stepped in, he could skip that trip.

Xiong Shan averted his gaze.

He found his bearings and turned southward, walking quickly along the long street.

Soon, he entered a run-down alley.

The paving stones were cracked, the blue brick walls on either side weathered and pitted from years of wind and rain, the paint on the doors peeling.

The whole place looked dead.

Xiong Shan entered the alley.

He counted the doors as he went and stopped in front of the third house from the end.

He raised a fist the size of a sandbag and knocked gently.

Thump, thump, thump…

Footsteps shuffled from inside.

Creak…

The wooden door opened.

An old man in rough linen robes stood there. Upon seeing Xiong Shan, his eyes lit with joy.

Xiong Shan nodded at him.

The old man glanced around cautiously before opening the door wider and letting Xiong Shan in.

Inside the courtyard, the old man hunched his back and dropped to one knee, voice hoarse as he said—

“Your subordinate greets the Sixth Prince!”

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