King of Hundred Victories Saber

After finishing speaking, he lifted his wine cup and downed it in a gulp, with the wine trickling down from the corner of his mouth, soaking the front of his clothes, yet he seemed oblivious.

Zhong Renwang chuckled quietly, the sound resembling the eerie call of a night owl.

He took two steps forward, his straw sandals scraping across the ground, and leaned close to Gan Jinliang, lowering his voice to say, ”Mr. Gan, you might not be aware, but the Lu Family Martial Arts Hall has always looked down on us from the Beggar Gang. I’ve been holding a grudge for a long time and was hoping for an opportunity to teach them a lesson. As soon as you give the order, our gang brothers will go through fire and water to assist.”

He spoke while rubbing his hands together, hands that were rough and calloused, trembling slightly with excitement.

Gan Jinliang’s eyes flashed with a hint of excitement, the dim look instantly brightening, like a hungry wolf spotting its prey.

He suddenly slapped the table, causing the wine cups on it to rattle and produce a crisp sound: ”Oh? Is Master Zhong serious about this? If we succeed, you shall not be short of rewards. At that time, we’ll divide Lu Family Martial Arts Hall’s assets fifty-fifty, how does that sound?”

Zhong Renwang quickly nodded, his head bobbing like a garlic peeler, with an increasingly bright smile on his face, though a hint of maliciousness flashed by unnoticed: ”Rest assured, Mr. Gan, I will do my utmost. Although my Beggar Gang brothers are often in rags, they are loyal one and all. Dealing with the Lu Family Martial Arts Hall is nothing.”

In truth, ever since Zhong Renwang had joined forces with the Grand Alliance Leader of the Martial Alliance, Xie Luo Jia, to challenge Shi Feiyang, only to be thoroughly defeated by Shi Feiyang, with Xie Luo Jia shamefully committing suicide, Zhong Renwang had harbored a deep hatred for Shi Feiyang and the Heroic Sakura Association.

This hatred, like a seed, took root and grew in his heart, becoming stronger over time.

Since then, he had repeatedly attempted to scheme against Shi Feiyang, yet he failed time and again, causing the Beggar Gang significant losses and depleting its capable members.

At this moment, he was conspiring with Gan Jinliang to seize the Lu Family Martial Arts Hall, outwardly respectful to Gan Jinliang like a loyal servant, but secretly having other plans.

He thought that once Gan Jinliang weakened enough from seizing the Lu Family Martial Arts Hall, he could then join forces with other Jianghu gangs, under the guise of eliminating evil, to kill Gan Jinliang and take the Lu Family Martial Arts Hall’s assets for himself, while also strengthening the Beggar Gang’s influence.

With this thought, the cunning gleam in Zhong Renwang’s eyes intensified, and a slight, almost imperceptible cold smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

Thus, several of them sat together, heads close, whispering their plot.

Their voices were like the buzzing of mosquitoes, echoing in the cold, elegant room.

The flickering candlelight cast their shadows on the wall, appearing like a pack of vicious wolves discussing how to divide their prey. The air of conspiracy was like a black mist, spreading thicker and thicker in the small space.

Under the gentle caress of the spring sun, the market of Luoyang City unfurled like a brilliant, colorful street painting.

In the streets and alleys, the bustling crowd was packed like weaving sheets of cloth.

The calls of vendors rose and fell, intermingling with cheerful laughter and the occasional braying of livestock, composing a lively and vibrant symphony of life.

The stalls were laid out as densely as fish scales, brimming with an array of goods, under the unreserved sunlight, painting an image of lively, thriving prosperity.

However, Gan Jinliang, like a dreadful demon emerging from a deep abyss, burst into the peaceful marketplace with a gang of ferocious subordinates, resembling a black whirlwind of terror.

His body, as immense as a towering small mountain, made the ground seem to tremble slightly with each step, producing a dull sound.

The ghastly scar on his face seemed all the more terrifying under the relentless sunlight, as if it were a vicious mark etched by time, telling tales of his past brutality and ferocity.

His eyes, sharp and predatory like a wolf’s, exuded a chilling light, scanning the area with greed. Wherever they landed, people scattered in fear like startled rabbits. The bustling, lively atmosphere was instantly overshadowed by fear, resembling a clear sky suddenly covered by dark clouds.

Gan Jinliang’s greedy gaze was firmly captured by a stall selling calligraphy and paintings.

The stall owner was a frail old man with hair as white as thick frost in winter, each strand seemingly carrying the heaviness of time. His face was deeply wrinkled like the bed of a dried-up river, recording the vicissitudes and hardships of a long life.

Hopeful and filled with enthusiasm for life, his voice, though slightly hoarse, warmly introduced his calligraphy and paintings to passing pedestrians: ”Dear patrons, please look at my artwork. Though not masterpieces by renowned artists, each piece is crafted with dedication from an old man like me. Every painting is infused with painstaking effort...”

Gan Jinliang strode forward abruptly and kicked at the stall without warning or concern.

The kick was forceful, sending the stall tumbling and scattering scrolls and papers like snowflakes all over the ground.

The old man stared in shocked disbelief, his eyes filled with terror and profound confusion, his body trembling like a leaf in the autumn wind. With a voice tinged with sobbing, he shakily asked, ”Sir, why have you done this? I’m just an honest vendor, I’ve never offended you...”

Gan Jinliang seemed not to hear, squatting down and using his fat, root-like fingers to roughly sift through the scattered calligraphy pieces on the ground.