A Prophet - Chapter 17 (Part 1)

Chapter 1 - Military Maps in the Corpse-Driving Inn

Somewhere along the border of Hubei and Hunan provinces, Grandpa and his entourage settled down for a time.

That night, Grandpa convened a full assembly of the faction, commending the various gang leaders who had orchestrated the setup in Zhoushan, which finally allowed the foot soldiers to understand what had truly happened.

After the meeting concluded, Grandpa silently returned to his room. Seated in the chilling chair, a sense of emptiness washed over him. The figure of Huang Farong began to drift before his eyes once more. He had grown accustomed to the days when she was by his side; when a habit becomes second nature, and that nature is suddenly ripped away, it leaves a profound sorrow in its wake.

Huang Farong was brought into the "Lotus" faction by his own hand. For four years, this young woman had attentively assisted and cared for him. From grand strategic planning down to pouring tea and serving water, her clever, spirited gaze, her articulate and poised demeanor, and her graceful, agile movements—all of this was deeply etched into Grandpa's mind. Now that she was gone, who else could truly understand Grandpa's heart?

He did not know how Huang Farong was faring in Nanyang, nor whether this lonely, desolate girl was still grieving or harboring resentment toward him. He only hoped she could walk a righteous path and live a peaceful, stable life.

Even as these thoughts swirled, Grandpa suddenly sensed movement among the tiles upon the roof. He swiftly blew out the oil lamp and cupped his ear to listen.

At that moment, Little Liu let out a thunderous roar from the courtyard: "Where do you think you're going?"

Grandpa bolted into the courtyard instantly, followed closely by several gang leaders. In the gloom, a figure sprinted across the rooftops, treading upon the ridge tiles as if walking on flat ground, shooting forward like a streak of lightning.

Little Liu burst into a rapid sprint, his feet kicking off the wall a few times to launch himself into the air. In an instant, he vaulted onto the roof and bellowed, "Stop right there!"

The two figures chased each other back and forth, tearing through the night with a rush of wind. The First and Second Gang Leaders also brandished cleavers and mattocks, moving to encircle and intercept from below.

The intruder possessed formidable lightweight kung fu, drifting across the roofs like a swallow, while Little Liu clung closely to his heels in relentless pursuit. As they rounded a ridge corner, the intruder's foot slipped, throwing off his balance. Forced into a corner, he executed a desperate backflip and crashed down into the courtyard.

Little Liu instantly glided down after him, and the two clashed in close combat the very next second.

Despite the intruder's impressive lightness skill, his actual martial arts were mediocre at best. Little Liu unleashed a set of "Ancestor Crane Boxing," leaving the man completely incapable of fighting back. Soon, the First and Second Gang Leaders arrived as well. Together, they swarmed the intruder and quickly captured him.

In the middle of the courtyard, the man was bound tightly like a festive zongzi.

Little Liu muttered curses under his breath: "Daring to steal from your grandfather!" As it turned out, the man had slipped through the window into Little Liu's room to commit thievery, only to be caught by the vigilant Little Liu, which sparked the ensuing rooftop chase.

By the lamplight, Grandpa finally saw him clearly. It was a young fellow, roughly seventeen or eighteen years of age.

Grandpa asked coldly, "What kind of petty thief are you?"

The young man tilted his head and kept his mouth shut.

"Damn your mother!" The First Gang Leader strode forward, waving a gleaming, razor-sharp cleaver right before the captive's eyes. "I'll hack you to pieces!"

The fellow offered a cold smile, not twitching a muscle.

"F***! Tough guy, aren't you?" The Second Gang Leader stepped up, reaching to grab the captive's hair.

"Hold on!" Grandpa barked, then turned to the prisoner. "Brother, which path do you walk?"

The young man chuckled. "Not the same path as you lot."

Grandpa smiled as well, then issued a crisp command: "Search him!"

The Second Gang Leader stepped forward in response. Hearing that he was about to be searched, the youth panicked. "You dare! If you search me, you'd better be careful with your worthless lives!"

Grandpa laughed again. "Such big words. Search!"

The Second Gang Leader patted down the young man's body, pulled out a sharp knife to slash open the front of his shirt, and retrieved a thick package.

"What? Banknotes?" The Second Gang Leader beamed. "There's gotta be tens of thousands here!"

Seeing the Second Gang Leader take the package, the captive broke out in a frantic sweat. "You rabble! Touching this stuff will cost you your heads! It'll cost your heads! Don't say I didn't warn you!"

Sensing hidden depths behind those words, Grandpa snatched the package from the Second Gang Leader's grip, shook it, and declared, "If you don't tell me who you are right now, I'm going to burn this thing!" With that, he brought the lamp closer, as if to ignite it.

"Wait, wait, wait! It'll cost your head! It'll cost your head!" The young man was sweating profusely from anxiety.

"Still won't say who you are?" Grandpa pressed.

The kid tossed his head back. "Fine, fine! I suppose my luck ran out today, falling into the hands of you bandits. I stand proudly by my name and fear no foe—known across the rivers and lakes as the 'Nimble Monkey,' Fan Yifei from Henan!"

He might as well have not given a moniker at all, for uttering that name stunned everyone present! The "Nimble Monkey" was a legendary thievery expert of the Central Plains who had once infiltrated Dai Li's official residence to steal fifty taels of gold and two pocket watches, leaving behind a note that read: Henan's Nimble Monkey was here. The incident had caused an immense sensation at the time.

Grandpa hurried forward. "Is this true?"

Fan Yifei nodded. "If I hadn't been running continuously for four days and four nights, would you lot have ever caught me?"

"What is inside this?" Grandpa shook the package.

"If I tell you, will you let me go?" Fan Yifei countered.

"If you talk, there's a chance I'll let you go. If you don't, you definitely aren't leaving. Think about it yourself," Grandpa replied.

Fan Yifei let out a long sigh and surrendered in defeat. "Rough sketches!"

"What kind of rough sketches?"

"See for yourself."

Grandpa handed the package over to the First Gang Leader, who sliced it open with his blade, revealing a thick stack of blueprints.

Grandpa unfolded the papers and examined them closely. They vaguely yet meticulously outlined mountains, rivers, and villages, with precise coordinates marked for every single location.

"What are these?" Grandpa asked.

"Maps, obviously," Fan Yifei said.

"I know they're maps. What are they for?"

"Sigh, wandering bandits will always be wandering bandits—completely clueless!" Fan Yifei shot Grandpa a look of utter disdain.

"Hm," Grandpa gazed coldly at Fan Yifei. "You've got some nerve." He turned around. "Old Fifth, come take a look."

The Fifth Gang Leader, Zhang Qiling, was practically a living map; he could meticulously sketch out the mountain ranges, cities, and rivers of any region across the entire country.

The Fifth Gang Leader took the blueprints and studied them in detail. "Grandpa, these are maps of the two lakes region. Look here—this is Hubei, this is Hunan, this is Mount Heng, this is Mount Yuelu, and this is Mount Huping right at the border of the two provinces..."

Listening from the side, Fan Yifei turned pale green with shock.

Grandpa strolled slowly up to Fan Yifei and growled fiercely, "Where did these come from? What are they used for?" His voice wasn't loud, but it radiated an irresistible, crushing authority.

"Uh..."

"Speak!" Grandpa roared, making the very sky tremble in response.

"The 'Maintenance Association' made us do it. These rough sketches were redrawn after new surveys based on Japanese aerial reconnaissance photographs..." Fan Yifei stammered.

"Maintenance Association? Aerial photographs?" Grandpa was baffled.

"The Japanese established a 'Maintenance Association' back in my home province of Henan..."

Before his voice could even fade, the faint, intermittent sound of bronze bells drifted in from the outside, ethereal and illusory. Following that came a few beats of a drum—ling-ling-ling, dong-dong-dong... This ghostly sound mingled with the chilly wind, drifting from afar and drawing closer toward the mountain village.

"Corpse-driving!" Grandpa, seasoned by countless battles, instantly identified the sounds of the soul-summoning bells and corpse drums. "Get this kid tied up inside the house first!"

The First and Second Gang Leaders immediately stepped forward, stuffed Fan Yifei's mouth with a cloth cord, and tossed him into the room.

The group extinguished the courtyard lanterns and peered out through the door cracks. Under the blinding moonlight, a corpse-driving procession slowly passed along the distant path, consisting of roughly a dozen "corpses" hopping along in single file. At the very head was a Daoist priest, ringing a bell while scattering paper currency, while a funeral drummer brought up the rear. The two of them sandwiched the dozen "zombies" in the middle, manipulating them forward. All the "zombies" were dressed in funeral robes, with soul-pacifying talismans pasted to their foreheads and vermilion smeared across their mouths.

After observing for a moment, the Second Gang Leader spotted something fishy. "That ain't right. The funeral robes are completely hollow underneath—only a single pair of feet are hopping on the ground. That means... the things being carried on their backs aren't dead bodies at all. Could it be they chopped off the corpses' heads too?" The Second Gang Leader recalled his own past experiences with corpse-driving.

Grandpa also caught the anomaly. "Hm, what they're carrying on their backs aren't corpses. That must mean..."

"Silver dollars or opium," the Third Gang Leader chimed in.

"Mm," Grandpa nodded.

"Grandpa, are we hitting this?" The Second Gang Leader turned his gaze to Grandpa, awaiting his command.

Grandpa remained silent.

"Grandpa, let's do it!" the Third Gang Leader urged. "Opium and silver dollars aren't things ordinary folk can afford to play with. This stuff either belongs to the Nationalist warlords or some bandits. Us robbing them is completely justified!"

"Yeah, Grandpa," the Fifth Gang Leader added. "Ever since we fled Shanghai... our remaining travel funds have been running dangerously low..."

Grandpa nodded. "Follow them! We make our move once they reach the corpse-driving inn!"

Hunan had been famous for corpse-driving since ancient times, which naturally spawned another distinct trade—the appearance of corpse-driving inns. Corpse-driving was a netherworld occupation; corpses could never look upon the sun, for the moment sunlight touched them, their souls would scatter to the winds. Once the soul scattered, the corpse truly became a dead body, never to stand again. Therefore, corpse-driving operations were strictly conducted under the cover of night. As dawn approached, they had to seek lodging at a corpse-driving inn as quickly as possible, herding the corpses into a windowless, dimly lit lodging house, chanting incantations to make them lie down, and waiting until after sunset before casting spells to resume their journey. Corpse-driving inns were generally set up in remote locations far away from human habitation; they never accommodated the living, and living travelers would never dare lodge there either.

Grandpa insisted on waiting until the corpse-driving team entered the inn before making his move precisely because he wanted to avoid alarming the local villagers along the road, and even more so, to avoid alerting any bandits lurking in the mountain hollows.

Grandpa conferred with the various gang leaders for a brief moment, after which they split up to carry out their respective tasks.

Roughly half an hour later, the corpse-driving procession finally halted at a corpse-driving inn. The leading corpse-driver gave a light knock on the wicker gate, and the innkeeper emerged carrying a "ghost lantern." Ghost lanterns were entirely different from the lanterns of ordinary households. Common lanterns were structured with fine bamboo strips and covered with red mounting paper or fine tissue paper, whereas ghost lanterns were woven from graveyard grass known as white thatch roots. This grass grew in a tangled web of roots that could plunge several feet deep into the earth; it frequently sprouted in rural graveyards, with roots stretching directly down to coffin level. The covering paper of a ghost lantern was also white funeral paper, making the entire lantern stark white and exceptionally glaring in the darkness.

The corpse-driver exchanged murmured words with the innkeeper, then herded the "corpses" into the inn one by one.

The corpse-storage room was exceptionally spacious, its floor blanketed thickly with straw. Once inside, the "corpses" collapsed one after another, arranging themselves in a neat row upon the straw. Afterward, the two corpse-drivers locked the doors and headed off directly with the innkeeper.

By this time, the moon had set, and the morning star grew increasingly brilliant. Seizing the absolute last shred of darkness before dawn, the Second Gang Leader crept stealthily to the corpse-storage location on tiptoe and initiated his plan...

Inside the room, the dozen "corpses" were sleeping soundly, weighed down by utter exhaustion.

As they slept, one of the "zombies" suddenly sat up, smacking its lips before leaning over to press its face against the face of another "zombie" beside it. Pouting its small lips, it began blowing air continuously, puffing breath after breath right onto that "corpse's" face.

That "corpse" was finally blown awake, snapping its eyes wide open and shouting, "What the hell are you doing?!"

The two "corpses" came face to face, both with ghostly talismans pasted to their faces and bright red vermilion dripping from the corners of their mouths. The shout from the lower "corpse" startled the upper one as well. "What are you roaring for, damn your mother!"

Hearing the unfamiliar accent, the lower "corpse" immediately sat up. "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm a wandering corpse that couldn't find its way home, so I just tagged along with you lot!"

Hearing that, the "corpse" yelled, "Wake up, everyone! There's a gatecrasher! We've got an intruder!"

All the "dead bodies" bolted upright in a synchronized flash, blinking their sleepy eyes. "Where? Where?!"

The "corpses" were all heavily disguised, looking identical at a single glance. Nobody could tell which one was the "intruder"!

"Him!" the previously shouting "corpse" pointed at another.

The pointed-at "corpse" spread his hands helplessly, shaking his head back and forth to signal that he wasn't the imposter.

"Then can you dare say something so we can hear your voice?"

The "corpse" offered a faint smile. "Say what, your mother's stinking cunt?"

"It's him! It's him!" With that, all the "corpses" scrambled to their feet in a rush and surrounded the Second Gang Leader!

The Second Gang Leader reached up, peeled the ghostly talisman off his forehead, and chuckled, "You bunch of blockheads, Second Grandpa is here—why aren't you rolling out the welcome wagon?"

"Who the hell are you?" one fellow demanded.

"Never mind who I am, let's just beat him to death first!" another yelled.

"Shh—" The Second Gang Leader pressed his index finger against his lips. "Keep it down, keep it down." As he spoke, he abruptly yanked a blunderbuss (gang slang for a handgun) from his waistband. "Make another peep and I'll blow your brains out!"

The group of men looked down and burst into roaring laughter, leaving the Second Gang Leader completely baffled.

In a flurry of motion, more than a dozen men all drew handguns from their waistbands, aiming them simultaneously at the Second Gang Leader's head.

The Second Gang Leader instantly froze in sheer stupidity. This wasn't any ordinary corpse-driving team—why did they all carry guns?! He deeply regretted ignoring Grandpa's warnings. Grandpa had told him to scatter soul-stupefying powder and simply steal the opium or silver dollars before retreating. Instead, driven by his inherent love for showing off and getting overly excited at the sight of "corpses," he had taken it upon himself to pick the lock and sneak into the room just to mess with these people.

Outside the door, the First Gang Leader heard the abnormal commotion within and hurriedly waved a hand behind him, signaling the accompanying foot soldiers to conceal themselves. Cursing fiercely under his breath, the First Gang Leader thought: You traitorous dog! I told you not to pull this stunt, but you insisted on doing it anyway. How are we supposed to get out of this now? How am I supposed to explain this to Grandpa? You absolute moron!

At that moment, the door creaked open, and a dozen "corpses" marched the Second Gang Leader out under armed guard.

Down in the brush, a foot soldier whispered, "Big Boss, do we charge in?"

The First Gang Leader glared daggers at him. "Charge with what, you idiot?! Didn't you see they're all holding guns? Can just a few of us take them down? These aren't ordinary men!"

"Then what do we do?" a foot soldier asked.

"Hurry back and report this to Grandpa. I'll hold down the fort here," the First Gang Leader ordered.

That foot soldier accepted the command and sprinted off.

Grandpa was pacing anxiously when he saw the foot soldier come tearing back in a breathless panic, instantly filling him with an ominous premonition. "Grandpa, it's bad! It's terrible!" the foot soldier gasped for air.

After hearing the foot soldier's report, Grandpa flew into such a rage that he slammed his palm against the table. "That damn fool! Acting on his own accord yet again!"

Lying bound on the ground, Fan Yifei struggled desperately, signaling that he had something to say.

Grandpa glanced at him and instructed a foot soldier to pull the cloth cord out of his mouth.

Fan Yifei drew a heavy breath and asked, "Did you guys try to rob the corpse-driving team?"

Grandpa looked at him without a word.

"Did your men mess up and get caught?" Fan Yifei continued. "I have a way to fix it."

Grandpa's eyes lit up.

"But I have a demand. I help you smooth this over, and you spare my life and let me walk away," Fan Yifei bargained.

Grandpa pondered for a moment before nodding. "Fine! Talk!"

"Well, aren't you going to untie me first?"

Grandpa eyed him. "Untie him."

The foot soldier stepped forward and unknotted the ropes for Fan Yifei.

"You folks are far too reckless. When the corpse-driving team first arrived, I was about to warn you, but you stuffed my mouth before I could even speak. Let me tell you, this isn't any ordinary corpse-driving crew—these are men from the Plum Blossom Agency and the police detachment!" Fan Yifei declared.

"Plum Blossom Agency? Police detachment?" Grandpa caught a hint of the underlying reality.

"That's right. The Plum Blossom Agency is a Japanese secret service organization newly established in Jinan, specifically tasked with controlling the 'sect societies' of the Shandong-Henan region. The Anqing Gang, the Shenwu Cult, and all sorts of other criminal factions and superstitious sects are under their control. The police detachment, to put it bluntly, is a collaborationist outfit formed by traitors to maintain Japanese imperial rule. Even the 'Maintenance Associations' formed by local villagers answer directly to the police detachment."

"So many people willing to turn traitor?" Grandpa asked, a chill running through his heart.

"Of course! Patriotism is great, but patriotism doesn't fill your stomach!" Fan Yifei glanced at Grandpa with undisguised contempt. "What benefits? You're a well-fed man who doesn't know the agony of starvation! They give you food so you don't starve to death. What else could anyone possibly want?"

"Do the common people have no love for their country?" Grandpa felt a cold void settle in his chest.

"They love it, sure, but you have to eat to be a patriot! Do you know how many people starved to death in my village? They carried sixteen bodies out in a single day! Joining the 'Maintenance Association' at least guarantees you meals—the Japanese distribute grain, and they even hand out candy to the kids who show up. Nowadays, our region is essentially administered entirely by traitors. How many Japanese are actually stationed in a whole county? The rest are entirely puppet troops and collaborators!"

Grandpa fell silent, his mood plunging into the absolute abyss.

"How do you even know all this?" Grandpa suddenly interrogated.

"Uh... I just live in the Japanese-occupied zone, that's all. Do you still want to rescue your brother or not?" Fan Yifei skillfully deflected the topic.

"How do we save him?" Grandpa asked.

"Never mind how we save him. I guarantee I'll get your man out safely, and then we part ways and mind our own business. Deal?"

Grandpa stared at him coldly. "Fine, it's a deal!"

"One condition though: man proposes, heaven disposes. It all depends on whether your brother's mouth is tight enough!" Fan Yifei added.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Grandpa asked.

"That captured brother of yours—as long as he hasn't blabbed about your true identities as bandits before we arrive, there's still hope. If he already spilled the beans, then it's over." Fan Yifei stated.

Even at this moment, Fan Yifei still assumed Grandpa and his crew were merely mountain bandits entrenched in the hills.

"Don't worry. My brother has a tight trap."

"Alright, come with me. Just follow my lead in everything..." Fan Yifei whispered his countermeasures to Grandpa.

"Will they actually listen to you?" Grandpa asked skeptically after hearing the plan.

"If you employ a man, do not doubt him; if you doubt him, do not employ him! Do you want to save your brother or not?" Fan Yifei retorted.

Grandpa offered a faint smile. "Good! We'll do it your way!"

Grandpa turned back, summoned the Third and Fourth Gang Leaders, and muttered a rapid series of instructions in their ears. Afterward, taking Little Liu along with him, he set off alongside Fan Yifei.

By now, the sky was growing faintly pale at dawn. The three of them sprinted the entire way until they reached the corpse-driving inn.

Fan Yifei strode up to the front door and shouted in underworld jargon: "Fellow travelers, hold your tongues! There are government hounds prowling outside the kiln!"

Grandpa silently parsed the underworld slang, translating it mentally into plain speech: Brothers keep quiet, there are heavyweights moving around outside the house!

Hearing the call, the two corpse-drivers peered out, spotted Fan Yifei, and asked in surprise, "Why are you back again?" Glancing past him, they noticed another man standing there and recoiled a step in alarm. "Who is he?"

"Peace among comrades, an old mountain-opening founder and government hound!" Fan Yifei's phrasing meant: This is a local patriarch, a veteran bandit.

"A friend from the brotherhood, step inside and speak," Fan Yifei tossed out another piece of slang, signaling them to come indoors.

The two corpse-drivers exchanged glances and shouted, "Please enter!"

Once inside and seated, Fan Yifei smiled and said, "The rushing waters flooded the Dragon King's temple—members of the same family failing to recognize each other. Allow me to introduce the pillar-bearer of several nearby mountain ranges—Hong Batian, known across the rivers and lakes as 'Tiger Hong,' Fifth Master Hong." He gestured toward Grandpa as he spoke.

Grandpa cupped his fists in salute. "Gentlemen, this old man failed to maintain proper discipline, and one of my underlings lacked manners, disturbing you two masters. Please forgive any offense given!"

The two men hastily returned the gesture. "Fifth Master Hong's reputation shakes Hunan and Hubei. To meet you today is our absolute honor, truly our honor!"

Fan Yifei chuckled, "We're all family here. Us folks who wander the rivers and lakes relying on corpse-driving are merely passing through Fifth Master Hong's territory. Please forgive any trespass and show mercy, Fifth Master!"

"Not at all, not at all. It was simply my subordinate who broke the rules. If you gentlemen suffered any loss of valuables, I will compensate you twofold!" Grandpa said.

"None at all! None at all!" one corpse-driver hastily assured. "Bring him out!"

A "zombie" shuffled out from the inner room.

"Release the prisoner," the corpse-driver commanded.

"What?" the "zombie" muttered with painted crimson lips.

"I said—release the prisoner!" the corpse-driver suddenly raised his voice.

"Understood!"

The Second Gang Leader was shoved forward by a few "zombies."

"Grandpa!" the Second Gang Leader cried out in astonishment upon seeing Grandpa.

Grandpa glared at him fiercely, and the Second Gang Leader instantly caught the meaning, shutting his mouth immediately.

The corpse-driver continued, "Fifth Master Hong, take your man and leave. We're just passing through your territory to rest our feet, and we'll be gone by nightfall."

Grandpa nodded. "As long as you don't harass the common folk or mistreat women, you are free to move about as you please. Otherwise, I, Tiger Hong, will not stand for it."

The corpse-driver nodded as well. "Rest assured, Fifth Master Hong!"

Grandpa untied the ropes binding the Second Gang Leader. The two exchanged a fleeting glance, and the Second Gang Leader fully grasped Grandpa's intent.

Suddenly, Grandpa flicked his long sleeve, launching a flying iron nail straight toward the head of one of the "zombies." Taken completely by surprise, the iron nail drove deep into the creature's skull with a sharp crack. Head and body alike were pinned straight into the wooden pillar, turning the "zombie" into a genuine corpse once and for all!

The Second Gang Leader whirled around with blinding speed, grabbing another "zombie" by the neck with a backhand grip. As the fellow thrashed wildly, the Second Gang Leader brought his knee up in a ferocious smash straight into the man's groin. With a wet thud, his testicles shattered like raw eggs. Pouring more strength into his grip, the Second Gang Leader snapped the fellow's neck with a sharp crunch.

Simultaneously, Little Liu threw concealed darts from both hands, striking the eyes of two "zombies" in the back. The iron nails pierced straight through their eyeballs and embedded themselves deep into their brains, causing both "zombies" to collapse limply in an instant.

Seeing this, the two corpse-drivers frantically reached for the guns at their waists. With eyes as quick as lightning, Grandpa launched two more flying nails, piercing straight through both men's hands and sending their pistols clattering to the floor. Grandpa and the Second Gang Leader instantly snatched up the weapons, training the muzzles right on the heads of the two corpse-drivers.

Hearing the commotion, the dozen or so "zombies" in the inner room swarmed out, every single one drawing a firearm and training it directly on Grandpa and his men.

"Make them drop their weapons!" Grandpa pressed his gun barrel against a corpse-driver's head. "Tell them to drop their guns!" His voice roared with enough force to nearly lift the roof off the inn.

Bleeding from his mangled hand, the corpse-driver stammered in panic, "Drop them! Put your guns down, all of you!"

The group exchanged doubtful looks. One of them protested, "If we drop them, we're dead meat!"

"Damn your mother, drop them!" the corpse-driver panicked. "This is Fifth Master Hong! He honors the code of the rivers and lakes above all else! He won't hurt us!"

Fan Yifei watched in a daze, trembling as he whispered to Grandpa, "What are you doing? I... I... I'm out of this, this has nothing to do with me... I'm leaving!" With that, he dug his toes into the earth, sprang upward, and bolted out the door.

The First Gang Leader, the Third Gang Leader, and the rest had been waiting outside for quite some time. Before Fan Yifei could even steady his footing after a single dash, the First Gang Leader lunged out from behind the door and struck him squarely on the temple with a heavy fist, sending Fan Yifei's eyes rolling back as he knocked him cold.

Immediately afterward, a dozen brothers rushed inside behind the First Gang Leader.

"Drop your weapons! Drop your weapons!" The First Gang Leader brandished his blunderbuss while the brothers behind him brandished gleaming broadswords.

Faced with this lineup, the "zombies" had no idea how many more men were waiting outside, figuring they had truly walked straight into a bandit lair today.

At last, the "zombies" tossed their handguns onto the floor one by one.

This was the first batch of organized firearms Grandpa had ever captured. Back at the stronghold, Grandpa had always been reluctant to let his brothers touch firearms—firstly because they were difficult to manage, and secondly out of fear of provoking major incidents, which was why the faction only kept a few pistols for self-defense. Now, amidst these chaotic times of displacement, Grandpa had long felt the absolute necessity of arming his men. Otherwise, whenever they encountered bandits, criminal syndicates, wandering outlaws, or even Nationalist army deserters in unfamiliar territory, they would be in a terrible position to handle them. Well, now things were looking up—they had just seized over a dozen guns in one fell swoop.

And they had done it without firing a single shot, executing the exact strategy Grandpa had devised before setting out. He had instructed the Third Gang Leader and the others to tail them covertly, link up with the First Gang Leader, and coordinate an inside-and-outside strike to dismantle the corpse-driving crew in one clean sweep, forbidding any gunfire unless absolutely necessary so as not to alert genuine local bandits.

Grandpa still did not realize that he had captured far more than just a dozen guns. The people disguised as this corpse-driving team were smuggling neither opium nor silver dollars; those back baskets were stuffed with the heavy, weighty conspiracies of the Japanese Empire!

In 1928, On Napoleon, translated by Wu Guangjian, Vice President of the Chinese Educational Association, was published in China, marking the first time the Chinese public encountered the God of European Land Warfare through the medium of a novelized biography. As for Napoleon, the Japanese had studied him far earlier than the Chinese; as early as the Meiji Restoration period, the Japanese military began gathering extensive documentation on Napoleon and his classic military campaigns.

The Japanese military was astonished to discover that a major reason Napoleon remained undefeated and invincible across every campaign was his meticulous attention to detail. Napoleon could clearly memorize the locations, widths, flow directions, and water volumes of thousands of rivers in Europe, accurately state the heights, widths, and wind directions of hundreds of mountain peaks, and calculate the exact number of ravines on any given mountain, along with their spans and depths. He even grasped granular details such as where a small mound or hollow lay within a pasture, and how many soldiers could ambush within that hollow.

Therefore, whenever battle arrived, he could direct military maneuvers with divine precision. Even his enemies were willing to join his ranks and help him fight, allowing him to dominate the European continent for over a decade with no rival in sight.

The heavily militaristic Japanese held this God of War in profound adoration. Prior to their full-scale invasion of China, Japanese intelligence agencies had already begun drafting maps of China. The Chinese maps produced by the Japanese were immeasurably more detailed than those drawn by the Chinese themselves. Before the September 18th Incident, an elderly schoolteacher teaching in the Northeast happened to stumble upon a Japanese-drawn map of China; the moment he looked at it, he mobilized his entire family the very next day to migrate south. If a country could map another nation's territory with such absolute precision, it harbored massive, sinister intentions. As an educator, he lacked the power to save his country, so he could only protect his family from the flames of war.

Following the outbreak of the full-scale War of Resistance Against Japanese Aggression, the Japanese military placed even greater emphasis on the revision of operational maps. Wherever a river changed its course, wherever a forest was destroyed—the moment terrain underwent the slightest alteration, corresponding updates were made immediately.

"Tell the truth now," Grandpa said coldly to Fan Yifei. In truth, he had long suspected that this kid was acting suspicious and concealing a multitude of secrets.

Having just regained consciousness, Fan Yifei let out a helpless sigh. "Fine. I was in cahoots with that corpse-driving crew."

"Go on."

"We aren't corpse-drivers at all. We disguised ourselves as a corpse-driving procession so we could draw accurate maps based on Japanese aerial reconnaissance photographs. Moving openly through the Nationalist-controlled zones would make us too easy to expose; even if the Nationalist army didn't spot us, it would arouse the suspicion of bandits. Disguising ourselves as a corpse-driving team solved that problem. Every time we crossed a mountain ridge or passed through a village, we meticulously recorded the terrain and coordinates of every location, then brought those rough sketches back for the Japanese to draft operational maps. There are five corpse-driving teams like ours operating along the Hubei-Hunan border. The Japanese saw that my lightness skill was good and put me in charge of transporting the diagrams. The drawings you confiscated from me earlier represent nearly a month's work from all five teams. If my hands hadn't been itching to steal your stuff, I would have reached Wuhan long ago," Fan Yifei explained.

"Does every region across the country have teams like yours?" Grandpa asked.

"Yeah, even more of them in Henan, Anhui, and Jiangsu. The Japanese have exceptionally strict requirements for maps; operational maps must reflect the absolute latest conditions. A while back, Old Jiang blew up the Yellow River, causing it to change course and split into two major torrents running across Henan, Anhui, and Jiangsu straight into the Huai River. That created a flooded zone eighty kilometers wide and four hundred kilometers long, completely obliterating the local landscape—villages no longer look like villages, counties no longer look like counties, hills are no longer hills, and forests are no longer forests... But that also disrupted the Japanese plan to rapidly advance on Wuhan and conquer the two lakes! After seizing Shandong, the Japanese military's next objective is to push deep into the Central Plains of China. To wage a campaign deep within the two lakes region, the Japanese cannot bypass Henan, Anhui, and Jiangsu, nor can they bypass these flooded zones—in fact, they have to pay special attention to utilizing these very flooded areas. And what does warfare rely on? It relies on operational maps! Now that the geography across more than thirty thousand square kilometers has completely transformed, if you were Japanese, wouldn't you need to redraw your operational maps?"

Grandpa pondered for a moment and nodded.

"The military command demands that the cartographers achieve absolute perfection! Operational maps contain not only precise coordinates of standard maps but also troop deployment and retreat markings, which can fully expose a side's combat intentions! And what do they rely on to draw these operational maps? First, old military maps; second, aerial reconnaissance photographs taken from the air. Aerial photos are far more precise than old maps, reflecting the terrain and topography of a given area with greater truth and immediacy. But aerial photos are mere pictures; to make them truly useful, they must be converted into maps with accurate coordinates, which is why people like us are put to use. How high every mountain peak is, how many mountain trails each mountain has, how wide those trails are, how many caves each peak possesses, and how many soldiers can ambush inside each cave—all of this must be marked down in meticulous detail."

The more Grandpa listened, the colder his heart became. The Japanese devils had truly racked their brains to invade China! We lost not merely because of weapons and equipment, but far more due to a failure in details.

"Every corpse-driving team has a Japanese secret agent embedded in it. Those two corpse-drivers you captured—the one who beat the funeral drum was a Japanese agent!" Fan Yifei added.

"Oh?" Grandpa's eyes lit up. "Bring that fellow to me immediately!"

"Understood!" the First Gang Leader acknowledged.

"Too late," Fan Yifei said.

"What do you mean?" Grandpa frowned.

At that moment, the Second Gang Leader, who had been put in charge of guarding the captives, came running in frantically and whispered, "Grandpa, it's bad! One of the fellows smashed his own head open!"

"What?"

"He smashed his own skull, and he hit it with massive force against the wall. His brains spilled right out," the Second Gang Leader reported.

"The Japanese would rather die than surrender. The moment they get caught, they look for any chance to kill themselves," Fan Yifei stated.

Grandpa couldn't help a pang of emotion: No wonder people always said the Japanese devils were formidable—even a lowly private showed such utter lack of fear in death. If it were his own brothers captured by the Japanese, perhaps they wouldn't have acted quite like this.

Deep in the night, Grandpa stood hesitating at a crossroads.

"Grandpa, do we execute them or not?" the First Gang Leader asked.

Thirteen lives. Granted, they had turned traitor, but they were still fellow Chinese after all; Grandpa had never killed so many people in a single sweep before. As the chilly wind blew down his collar, for reasons unknown to himself, Grandpa thought of Huang Farong at that exact moment. He longed to hear her perspective, and the words slipped past his lips before he could stop them: "Fa—"

"Fa what? Exile them?" the First Gang Leader pressed.

Grandpa glared at him, realizing his slip of the tongue, and forcefully swallowed the second half of the word. He paced back and forth within the room for a long while before letting out a heavy sigh: "Make it quick. Don't let them suffer."

"Understood!"

Grandpa spared Fan Yifei, making him watch with his own eyes as those men were beheaded. Where the blade flashed, heads tumbled heavily to the ground.

Fan Yifei was so terrified his heart nearly leaped out of his throat.

"Do you know why I spared your life?" Grandpa asked Fan Yifei.

"I... I... I don't know," Fan Yifei stammered.

"Because I believe you're still human."

Hearing those words, a rush of heat surged in Fan Yifei's eyes as tears slipped down his cheeks.

The next day, Grandpa convened a faction meeting.

"I propose a restructuring of the faction," Grandpa announced.

The men looked amongst themselves. "Please give us your instructions, Grandpa."

"Before Master Zhang passed away, he left his final verbal decree temporarily establishing five gang leaders for the faction. He said that 'five' is the number of loyalty and righteousness, hoping the brothers of the faction would share a single heart of loyalty and pull through these difficult times together. Now, the faction has navigated several brushes with death, and every brother has been thoroughly tested, displaying absolute loyalty and righteousness through and through. Yet today, as we wander in exile through unfamiliar territory, risks emerge one after another—something detrimental to the safety of our faction and even more disadvantageous to our operations. Therefore, I intend to expand the leadership structure by establishing the position of a sixth gang leader. This leader will command a contingent of brothers, specializing in scouting out targets and handling the security affairs of the entire faction. What do you all think of this?"

The gang leaders and foot soldiers listened intently, recognizing that Grandpa's foresight was profound and his reasoning sound. Thus, they spoke in unison: "Grandpa is brilliant!"

"The position of the Sixth Gang Leader is extraordinary, and whoever takes up this mantle must possess formidable martial arts. Who do you all think is best suited for this role?" Grandpa asked.

"Little Liu!" The Third Gang Leader was the first to catch Grandpa's true meaning.

"Yes! Yes! Little Liu!" everyone cheered in chorus.

Leading Little Liu to defeat the corpse-driving crew had been Grandpa's final test for him, and his adaptability and reflexes had earned him a top score from Grandpa.

Thus, amidst waves of jubilation, seventeen-year-old Little Liu was elevated to Sixth Master. Fan Yifei, who was a year older than him, was placed under his command. Realizing what Grandpa and his crew were truly about, Fan Yifei suddenly felt a sense of meeting too late, repeatedly kowtowing to Grandpa and swearing an oath to follow him to heaven's bidding, punish the wicked, aid the impoverished, and pledge his absolute loyalty to Grandpa for the rest of his life!

At first, Fan Yifei wasn't entirely convinced, particularly regarding the rooftop chase from the night before; he had stubbornly believed he lost to Little Liu simply because he hadn't eaten enough and had been traveling continuously. Later on, Little Liu found an opportunity, and the two sparred once more out in the woods—an arrangement orchestrated by Grandpa to ensure Fan Yifei submitted completely out of genuine conviction.

Two towering ancient trees in the woods each had a lantern hung from their crowns; whoever could climb to the treetop first and pluck the lantern would be the victor. Those massive trees soared a good twenty meters high, stabbing straight into the clouds, enough to make one dizzy just looking up. At Grandpa's command, the two took off in a running start, scrambling up the giant trees like monkeys, pouring strength into their hands and feet as they zipped upward.

By the time Little Liu snatched his lantern, Fan Yifei was still an entire arm's length away from his own. At that moment, an astonishing sight unfolded: Little Liu clamped the lantern handle in his teeth, executed a ferocious leap, and vaulted through empty air from his own tree across a six-meter gap to the neighboring tree, snatched the second lantern down, and then drifted gracefully back to earth with a series of backward flips. Everyone watching was left gaping in utter shock.

When Fan Yifei climbed down from the tree, he said nothing. He dropped straight to his knees before Little Liu and declared, "Sixth Master!"

Grandpa smiled knowingly.

Yet just as Grandpa was reforming the faction and enjoying a brief moment of calm, he could never have imagined that a far greater catastrophe was quietly closing in upon them. Those aerial photographs and maps were far from as simple as Fan Yifei had believed...