A Prophet - Chapter 5 (Part 4)

Chapter 4 - The "Wind-Hand" Meets a Tragic End

Not long after returning to the hall, on April 21, 1949, the Yangtze River Crossing Campaign broke out. Chairman Mao waved his hand and declared, "Fight across the Yangtze River and liberate the entire of China!" In an instant, the American and Soviet conspiracy to divide China went bankrupt, and Chiang Kai-shek's plan to "buy time and reorganize military forces" vanished into thin air. Waving their banners, a million soldiers of the People's Liberation Army marched south as the vanguard, with the Second, Third, and Fourth Field Armies echoing one another from afar. With the momentum of snapping decayed wood, they wiped out eleven Kuomintang corps and forty-six divisions in a single stroke, annihilating over 430,000 enemy troops and liberating major cities such as Nanjing, Shanghai, and Wuhan, alongside the entirety of Jiangsu and Anhui provinces, most of Zhejiang province, and parts of Jiangxi, Hubei, and Fujian provinces.

In his urgency, the Patriarch deliberated repeatedly before leading the hall's brothers south to Guangzhou, where they rendezvoused with the "Crossing Sea Begonia" hall. However, the two halls were united without being mixed: Jiang Feiyan remained Jiang Feiyan, the Patriarch remained the Patriarch, the Eastern Faction remained the Eastern Faction, and the Southern Faction remained the Southern Faction.

Scarcely had the hall settled down in Guangzhou when, in May, the Sixth Master, the "Wind-Hand," suddenly fell ill. While practicing martial arts during the early morning, he began coughing incessantly, eventually coughing up blood. Several local physicians examined him and declared that his pulse was weak, likely caused by exhaustion. After prescribing and administering a few doses of blood- and Qi-tonifying medicines, his condition improved slightly, but within days his hair began falling out. Soon, even his eyebrows started shedding, leaving him entirely drained of strength and with a sallow complexion that made him utterly unrecognizably emaciated.

Watching this unfold, the Patriarch felt anxious to the core. He had Jiang Feiyan invite the finest doctor in the area. After examining him, the physician stated, "All five viscera and six bowels are in total failure, and the cause is unknown."

The Patriarch asked, "Could he have been poisoned?"

The physician replied, "There is no poison in his body."

The Patriarch asked, "Is there still hope?"

The physician shook his head.

At his wit's end, the Patriarch felt heartbroken. It wasn't just the Patriarch; every single hall assistant was burning with anxiety.

During those days, the Second Hall Master drank every day and constantly dragged me along. After drinking heavily one time, he muttered in a drunken haze, "Old Liu has the toughest constitution of us all. How the hell did this happen?"

I said, "Second Master, life and death are determined by fate, and wealth is up to Heaven." As soon as I finished speaking, I realized I had slipped up, but it was already too late to take it back. The Second Hall Master strode right up and slapped me across the face. "What the hell did you just say!"

Covering my cheek, I pleaded, "Second Master, I was wrong! I was wrong!"

The Second Hall Master said, "Big-Head, don't blame the Second Master for hitting you. Do you know? I've spent over ten years alongside the Sixth Master. When he first came to the hall, he was just a kid. I watched him grow up day by day, and he harbored absolute loyalty toward the Patriarch and the brothers. Through all the storms over the years, he was the one who smoothed over every trouble on the streets. Whenever we set up a scheme or scouted a location, he was always the first to charge forward. Back during the gang brawl with the Green Dragon Gang, little Liu took a blade meant for me right across his chest, slicing the flesh wide open. When I asked him if it hurt, he smiled and said, 'Second Master, it doesn't hurt...'"

At this point, the Second Hall Master broke down crying. At that moment, I truly and deeply grasped the meaning of the word "brother." In my memory, this was the first time the Second Hall Master had ever struck me over matters between brothers. After the beating, he drank even more until he passed out completely blind drunk.

At this point, the Second Hall Master cried, and in that moment, I truly and deeply comprehended the weight of the word "brother." In my memory, this was the first time the Second Hall Master had ever struck me over matters concerning the brothers. After the beating, he drank heavily again until he was utterly intoxicated. A month later, the "Wind-Hand" was on his last breath. Before dying, the Patriarch cradled him at the bedside. Struggling to open his eyes, the "Wind-Hand" spoke weakly, "Patriarch, little Liu has followed you for fourteen years, and you have treated me generously... Little Liu admires you from the bottom of his heart and has been willing to follow you. Back when you took me in under Nine-Master's hall, I was ignorant and even talked back to you... Patriarch, little Liu cannot accompany you any further down this road. You must take good care of yourself. Didn't Master Qingfeng say that my murderous intent was too heavy? I truly have killed many people, but now that I am dying, once dead I shall kill no more... Patriarch, following you in this lifetime, I have no regrets. In my next life, I wish to be your little Liu once again... Patriarch, after I die, please burn a bit more joss paper for me—not for my own use, but for those resentful ghosts I killed. On the netherworld road, I will use this money to bribe them so they won't pester me, allowing me to smoothly reincarnate and return to serve the Patriarch..." Tears poured like rain from the Patriarch's eyes, splashing onto the "Wind-Hand's" face. I couldn't help weeping either, and the Second Hall Master collapsed over the bedside, wailing aloud, "Liu, my boy, your second brother can't bear to let you go!" The "Wind-Hand" finally closed his eyes, and the Patriarch pulled him tightly into his arms. In that scene, he didn't look like a hall boss holding a subordinate; he looked far more like an elder brother holding his younger brother.

On the day of the Sixth Master's funeral, figures from both the underworld and legitimate society were present in full force. The Second Hall Master knelt before the mourning altar, crying so hard he lost his voice. Especially during the burial, he went frantic with grief, shoving aside the low-ranking members responsible for shoveling the earth around the grave pit and throwing himself over the coffin to stop them from burying it. In the end, it took several low-ranking members acting under the Patriarch's orders to forcibly carry him away. This was the first time since following him that I had ever seen the Second Hall Master experience such profound grief. The other hall assistants were equally heartbroken. Wearing mourning garb, the Third Hall Master knelt before the coffin, weeping as he recited a eulogy he had written himself: "Alas, my brother! How tragic, my brother! You walked alongside us brothers for over a decade, yet you passed away before me. From this day forth, separated by the boundary of life and death, how can this foolish brother bear it? I had one younger brother of my own who unfortunately perished in his youth; ever since you entered the Patriarch's ranks, I regarded you as my own flesh and blood. You possessed peerless martial arts, valued righteousness above all else, and yet Heaven is blind, cruelly slaying a genius of your caliber, shattering my heart..."

Hearing this eulogy, the crowd wept even more bitterly. Every single hall assistant was crying, and every low-ranking member was weeping as well, but the Patriarch kept his wits about him. Some people were crying genuinely, while others were faking it. Deeply versed in history, the Patriarch knew that when Zhuge Liang wept for Zhou Yu back in the day, it had also been earth-shattering, yet smiles lay behind those tears. Regarding the "Wind-Hand's" illness, the Patriarch had always sensed something was amiss, yet he could never pinpoint where the problem lay. Initially, the Patriarch also believed it stemmed from overwork and exhaustion, but as his condition worsened, he suspected someone had poisoned him. Yet even after turning the place upside down with an exhaustive search, he found nothing.

The "Wind-Hand" himself was a bright and astute individual. Coupled with the Patriarch's personal tutelage over the years, he had grown exceptionally sharp, exercising extreme caution regarding his diet and daily routine. He anticipated things the Patriarch didn't even think of, carrying the various poison-testing silver needles developed by the Fourth Hall Master wherever he went. Whenever he dined in an unfamiliar place, he would test the food first, taste it himself, and only then let the Patriarch eat. Therefore, poisoning him through his meals was utterly impossible. Moreover, the physician had checked his body and confirmed there was no poison present. Although the Patriarch harbored suspicions, he could never unearth any clues. During that period, the Patriarch constantly wore a stern expression, drinking tea endlessly through the night. I watched over him with careful trepidation, sometimes catching him staring blankly at the moon in the sky. Knowing he was thinking of the "Wind-Hand" once again, I dared not utter a word, simply keeping him company in silence.

Late one night, the Patriarch suddenly said to me, "Accompany me for a walk." Not daring to ask where we were headed, I obediently followed behind him. To my surprise, the Patriarch walked toward the residence the "Wind-Hand" had occupied while alive. Ever since the "Wind-Hand's" death, the Patriarch had ordered the house locked up. Pulling out the keys, the Patriarch unlocked the door. Pitch darkness greeted us inside, and the Patriarch instructed me to fetch a flint and light the oil lamp. Groping around for a good while, I finally located an oil lamp on the kitchen stove, lit it, and brought it over. "Head to the back kitchen," the Patriarch commanded. Without understanding his intent, I obediently held up the lamp and followed the Patriarch into the back kitchen. The Patriarch meticulously inspected every corner of the kitchen, checking over and over again for fear of missing anything. Suddenly, his eyes locked onto the wall, and he told me, "Bring the lamp closer!" I raised the lamp above my head, and as the Patriarch brought the flame right up against the wall, I saw it too: plastered there was a piece of smoke-yellowed paper bearing the handwritten heading "Sixth Master's Mid-Spring Menu." Beneath it were densely packed rows of small, fly-head characters detailing the daily meals and recipes that should be prepared for the "Wind-Hand," running on a seven-day rotating cycle.

Everyone in the hall knew the "Wind-Hand" loved fine food. Because he practiced martial arts, his physical energy expenditure was massive, and his appetite was voracious. He loved meat and enjoyed rotating his dishes constantly, eating until his face glowed with health and unleashing tiger-like vigor when executing his fist forms. To accommodate this, he had specifically recruited a low-ranking member who knew how to cook to handle his dietary needs alone. Carefully peeling the menu off the wall, the Patriarch returned home with it and began studying the text in detail: Bingyin Day: Primordial Chaos Pig Meat, Yin-Yang Large Water Chestnuts, Old Cask Shredded Chicken with Cucumber, Nine-Yin Drunken Peanuts. Dingmao Day: Three Yangs Opening Harmony Dog Meat, Dual-Tone Secret Bean Curd Pockets, Rabbit Meat with Old Ghost Celery. Wuchen Day: Secret Salted Crucian Carp, Galloping Oil Rapeseed, Earth Dragon Pan-Fried Goose Liver, Phoenix Dance Egg Drop Soup... The Patriarch studied it for a long time without spotting anything improper. Finally, clutching the sheet of paper, he fell fast asleep in his chair out of sheer exhaustion.

I draped a blanket over the Patriarch and was just about to head out to my quarters when the Patriarch spoke up: "Big-Head, sleep here tonight. The east guest room is unoccupied, and bedding is inside." Only then did I realize the Patriarch hadn't been asleep; he had been racking his brains in agonizing thought. Seeing him like this sent a pang of heartache through me. At the break of dawn the next day, the Patriarch called out to me: "Big-Head, pass along my order: announce 'Food Salary' for tonight, and have Master Qian, Sister Yan, and all the hall assistants attend." Hearing this left me somewhat bewildered. Hadn't they just partaken in "Food Salary" two days ago? Furthermore, the hall's funds were quite tight lately; what had gotten into the Patriarch? Besides, today was the fifth-seven memorial service of the "Wind-Hand," when everyone was supposed to visit the gravesite to pay their respects. Not daring to ask questions, I proceeded to notify the various hall assistants and senior masters one by one. That evening, the Patriarch set out two massive banquet tables. The first table seated the Patriarch, Jiang Feiyan, Qian Yuelin, the First Hall Master, Second Hall Master, Third Hall Master, Fourth Hall Master, Fifth Hall Master, and Seventh Hall Master; the other table seated the remaining hall assistants and outstanding low-ranking members.

The Patriarch had me stay at his table to pour wine and serve tea. As the banquet commenced and the servants brought out the dishes, I was stunned: every single dish matched the recipes on the menu taken from the "Wind-Hand's" kitchen. The Third Hall Master furrowed his brow and glanced at Qian Yuelin, who maintained an expressionless composure. Raising his cup, the Patriarch addressed the gathering: "Master Qian, Sister Yan, and fellow brothers: since its founding over three hundred years ago, the 'Jiangxiang Faction' has grown. Back in the day, Patriarch Fang Zhaoyu, one of the five ancestors of the Hongmen, founded the 'Jiangxiang Faction' to oppose the Qing and restore the Ming, eliminating evil and promoting goodness. What we relied upon was the solidarity of our brothers. With all of you sharing heart and mind internally while matching wits and courage externally, the 'Jiangxiang Faction' has continued to flourish and expand. Unity is our magic weapon of everlasting strength. This first cup of wine is dedicated to the fraternal bonds of mutual solidarity among brothers. Cheers!"

Everyone raised their cups together. "Brothers share heart and mind, and the 'Jiangxiang Faction' will flourish!" They drained their cups in a single gulp. Raising a second cup of wine, the Patriarch continued: "Over the years, the 'Jiangxiang Faction' has weathered many storms, and countless brothers have sacrificed their lives for the interests of the hall. Ever since I took the helm of the 'Prunus Lotos,' twelve brothers have left us successively. In this spring alone, we have lost four brothers. In the future, more brothers may die, and I too may meet my end. This second cup is a toast to those generations of brothers who died for the hall!" Sensing hidden meaning in the Patriarch's words, the crowd exchanged glances, raised their cups, and drank them dry. Raising his cup once more, the Patriarch said, "The third cup is dedicated to Master Qian and Sister Yan. Master Qian traveled thousands of miles to come to the 'Prunus Lotos,' bringing immense brilliance to our hall. For months, Master Qian has anchored himself at the hall, devising strategies and sharing my worries, for which I am deeply moved. Recently, with the dramatic shifts in the political situation, I led the brothers down to the prized land of southern Guangdong. Sister Yan rode twenty miles out of the city to welcome us, showing boundless grace to the brothers of the 'Prunus Lotos' hall. Master Qian, Sister Yan, I toast you both!"

Qian Yuelin hurriedly stood up, smiling all over his face as he said, "The Patriarch is too polite! This foolish brother is incompetent, yet to be favored by the Patriarch without being cast aside is already a matter of extreme gratitude. It is I who should be toasting the Patriarch!" With that, he drained his cup. Jiang Feiyan remained silent, offering the Patriarch a faint smile. This was the first time I had ever seen Jiang Feiyan smile up close. At forty-seven years of age, she still looked like she was in her thirties, exceptionally well-preserved, full of residual charm, and fairly radiating spring-like allure. What baffled me most was that she didn't have a single strand of white hair. The Second Hall Master later told me that she entrusted Military Statistics Bureau personnel to purchase a certain medicinal liquid from the West every year, applying it to her hair to turn gray strands black. Years later, I learned that was hair dye, invented by a Frenchman in the early twentieth century. The Patriarch said, "Please, Sister Yan." Jiang Feiyan replied, "Please, Patriarch." Both drank together. The Patriarch continued, "Today is the five-seven memorial of little Liu. During his lifetime, Liu loved good food. When cleaning out his room the other day, the servants discovered a menu of his. Upon looking, I found they were truly fine dishes. Though he is gone, I am borrowing his menu to treat everyone, which also serves as a tribute to his departed spirit. Please partake, everyone!"

Standing up, the guests chimed in, "Patriarch, do take care of your grief." Raising his cup again, the Patriarch shouted toward the sky, "Liu, the five-seven is the day the soul returns. If your spirit has any awareness, look back at the brothers—see how united we are! The path you didn't finish walking, the brothers will walk for you. You can rest in peace!" Before his voice had even faded, a sharp clatter rang out. Following the sound, the crowd saw that the Second Hall Master had accidentally knocked over his wine cup. The Patriarch glanced at the Second Hall Master, then tipped his head back and drained the wine in his cup in one go. "Everyone, use your chopsticks," he said. "Whatever tastes good, eat that. Only by eating heartily will Liu's spirit in heaven be pleased."

Exchanging glances, the company began to eat. I covertly watched the Patriarch, who scanned every person at the table with the corner of his eye as he ate. I ate in silence; the food was genuinely delicious, and I sampled every single delicacy, thinking that the Sixth Master certainly had a blessed palate during his lifetime. The "Food Salary" gathering lasted for two double-hours, concluding only at the hour of Hai. Late at night, the Patriarch still had me brew tea for him. As I was making the tea, a sudden cramp struck my stomach, and I dashed to the outhouse for a bout of watery diarrhea, suspecting I had simply overeaten. No sooner had I pulled up my trousers than another wave of pain hit, sending me back twice more before it finally subsided. Sipping his tea, the Patriarch remarked, "Big-Head, tomorrow notify the various hall assistants of our hall, as well as Master Qian, to announce the continuation of 'Food Salary.'" "Huh?" I thought I had misheard. "Huh what?" the Patriarch said. "We continue 'Food Salary' tomorrow! You will join as well. Remember, don't eat a bit of every dish on the table—pick just one dish and eat only that." Uncomprehending, I asked, "Which dish?" The Patriarch smiled: "Whatever suits your palate, any of them is fine, just don't mix them."

Confused and not daring to ask further, I could only reply, "Understood, Patriarch." Early the next morning, I set off to notify the various hall assistants. When I arrived at the Third Hall Master's residence, I was surprised to find the Fifth and Seventh Hall Masters there as well. "Third Master, Fifth Master, Seventh Master," I announced, "the Patriarch says we are continuing 'Food Salary' today." I will never forget the expressions on the faces of those three masters: they had turned completely green, their eyes betraying a mix of shock and bewilderment. This time around, "Food Salary" excluded Jiang Feiyan and the other low-ranking members; it included only the Patriarch, Master Qian, the various hall assistants, and myself. Laying eyes on the food, I saw it was still dishes from the "Wind-Hand's" menu, and a vague premonition told me something was deeply wrong here. Qian Yuelin chuckled. "Patriarch, didn't we just eat this yesterday? Hall funds have been tight lately; we should save the silver for other..." Before he could finish, the Patriarch cut him off: "We aren't short on this bit. Heh, the hall assistants have followed me for so long; it's rare to have leisure time. Since business has been slow lately, we might as well enjoy wine and conversation." The First Hall Master laughed heartily, tossing a piece of meat into his mouth. "Eat up, eat up. I had diarrhea last night myself, so this will just help me build my strength back up." The Second Hall Master chimed in, "Big Brother, you had the runs too?" Before the First Hall Master could reply, I couldn't help chiming in: "The... the underling had them too."

The Patriarch burst into laughter. "Build your strength up, all of you. With the hall moving locations recently, the travel has worn you all out and exhausted you. Starting today, we will hold 'Food Salary' consecutively for a month!" Looking sorrowful, the Third Hall Master said, "Sixth Liu just passed away, I... I have no appetite..." With a solemn expression, the Patriarch said, "Life and death are ordained by Heaven; everyone shouldn't grieve too deeply." He continued, "Old Liu is gone, but the hall's business must go on. Every post has its occupant, and someone needs to lead his men. You all nominate someone." Hearing this, the Second Hall Master immediately raised his head. "Patriarch, I nominate Little Haizi." Little Haizi was a low-ranking footman under the Second Hall Master whose real name was Zhao Dinghai; he excelled at throwing darts, possessed immense courage, and cut a fine figure. The Patriarch shook his head. "The men under Old Liu are not easy to lead; they're all top experts, and without genuine skill, it's hard to manage them." Turning to the Third Hall Master, the Patriarch asked, "Old Third, do you have a suitable candidate?" The Third Hall Master looked at Qian Yuelin, who smiled and said, "Don't look at me for this. This is an internal matter for your hall; I won't get involved." The Third Hall Master said, "Patriarch, I do indeed have one candidate to recommend to you—he's Old Liu's subordinate, Fan Yifei." The Fan Yifei mentioned by the Third Hall Master was the "Wind-Hand's" capable assistant, whose lightness skill rivaled the "Wind-Hand's." He had joined the hall in 1942 and went by the nickname "Little Shiqian," implying he was nimble as the legendary Liangshan hero Shi Qian, possessing extraordinary agility and invincible lightness skills. Hearing this, the Patriarch slammed the table. "Good! Exactly what I had in mind!"

With his mouth stuffed with meat, the Second Hall Master stared blankly at the Patriarch. "Patriarch... perhaps we should consider this carefully..." The Patriarch waved a hand. "A hall cannot go a single day without a hall assistant. I've been considering this fellow these past few days and happened to land on the same thought as Old Third. It's settled—tomorrow's hall assembly will make it official!" The Third Hall Master hastily declared, "The Patriarch is wise!" The next day, before nearly a hundred brothers of the hall and amidst a chorus of celebrations, "Little Shiqian" took his seat on the sixth grand chair. That evening, "Food Salary" proceeded as before, and following the Patriarch's instructions, I ate only a single dish. After eating for a while, I noticed with astonishment that every single person at the table was eating only one dish as well. What was going on here? As the meal neared its end, the Patriarch spoke to me before the entire gathering: "You've all been working too hard lately. Liu's death has worn me out physically and mentally. Big-Head, see about getting a few theater tickets these next couple of days so everyone can go watch a show together."

The First and Second Hall Masters chimed in unison, "Splendid! I haven't listened to Cantonese opera in a long time." The next day, I booked over a dozen tickets. Upon seeing them, the Patriarch said, "Good. Notify the various hall assistants that we are all going to watch the grand opera together tomorrow!" That evening, I brewed tea for the Patriarch as usual. Sitting in his rocking chair, he sipped his tea and asked, "Big-Head, how long have you been following me?" Calculating carefully, I replied, "Patriarch, a year and three months." Sighing, the Patriarch said, "Ah, time flies. Big-Head, how do you view me as a person?" Not knowing what he meant by the question, in all fairness, I envied the Patriarch. We were both men, so why was he blessed with such good looks, wisdom, and methods, whereas I looked like a melon—ugly, dull, and stupid? Countless times, I had made a wish that if I were reincarnated as a human in my next life, I must become someone just like the Patriarch! Though filled with emotion, I was clumsy with words and ended up saying, "Patriarch, you're pretty awesome." The Patriarch asked, "Awesome in what way?" I replied, "Awesome in every way!" The Patriarch let out a booming laugh that lasted quite a while before saying, "Big-Head, do you remember? When I first took you in, I asked you whether you'd ever thought about becoming a boss yourself one day." I said, "I remember. I told you back then my life was too cheap to be a boss, and you scolded me for it." The Patriarch said, "Indeed. Prepare yourself to become a boss—you're about to become one." Hearing that nearly made me drop the teapot. "Uh... Patriarch..." Suddenly, a rapid knocking sounded at the door. The Patriarch lifted his head, two cold gleams flashing from his eyes that startled me. I involuntarily blurted out, "Who's knocking?"

The Patriarch didn't answer, instead telling the housekeeper, "Go open the door." Acknowledging the order, the housekeeper took a lantern and went to open the door. Clueless as to what was happening, I stared dumbly at the Patriarch, then looked back toward the courtyard. Suddenly, a series of whistling sounds echoed as numerous figures vaulted down from the rooftop. I saw it was the First Hall Master, accompanied by many formidable martial artists from the hall, every single one of them gripping a Mauser pistol. I knew the hall possessed several dozen Mauser pistols, which were normally locked inside the Patriarch's residence and only issued in specific numbers based on operational requirements when an external mission arose, being collected and returned to storage afterward. The Patriarch never permitted any hall assistant or low-ranking member to carry firearms privately. With so many individuals issued guns this time, my heart leaped straight into my throat: a massive crisis was about to hit the hall! The Patriarch waved a hand, and the First Hall Master quickly ducked behind the screen behind the Patriarch, while the rest of the low-ranking members concealed themselves in the shadows. Poking his head out, the First Hall Master quietly whispered, "Patriarch, there are twenty brothers on the roof. Second Master's side is also prepared, and out on the perimeter, Mother Yan [Jiang Feiyan] has deployed her forces—every major intersection is manned by our brothers." The Patriarch nodded.

Shortly after, the housekeeper led someone into the room. Upon looking, I saw it was the Seventh Hall Master, Wang Jiaxian. Entering the room, the Seventh Hall Master said nothing else; he dropped heavily to his knees. "Patriarch! This humble subordinate has come to confess his crimes!" Then, knocking his head against the floor thud, thud, thud, he cried, "Patriarch, I was wrong! Patriarch, spare my life!" Glancing at him coldly, the Patriarch said, "Speak." Weeping as he talked, the Seventh Hall Master left me listening with my heart in my throat—what a colossal conspiracy this was! It turned out that the old fox Qian Yuelin had colluded with Qin Baichuan of the Western Faction for a long time, and they had long been plotting to eliminate the Patriarch!

The Patriarch was an overlord—anyone could see that. He had taken the helm of the "Prunus Lotos" at the age of twenty-one. Back when he inherited the hall from Zhang Dancheng, counting both old and young, there were barely twenty-odd people in total, with a pitifully thin foundation lacking both personnel and wealth. Over twenty years later, the Patriarch had built the hall up to over a hundred members, earning silver coins numbering in the millions! For centuries, the four major halls had split the turf evenly, maintaining roughly equal strength and mutual checks and balances where no single entity could threaten the others. Yet history rolled into the Republic era, and the Patriarch emerged out of nowhere. Under his management, the "Prunus Lotos" flourished, standing out alone and stealing all the limelight. This completely shattered the centuries-old balance of the four major halls, which was a grave taboo!

How could the Patriarch fail to understand the principle behind this? In previous years, despite the continuous growth of the hall's strength, he kept a low profile and treated all the grand senior masters with utmost reverence. It wasn't until after 1945, when he felt absolute confidence in his own strength, that he began launching major psychological offensives. In recent years, he continually distributed massive amounts of silver to the other halls to win people over. On the surface, this was a benevolent gesture, and the grand senior masters expressed profuse gratitude, but in reality—aside from Jiang Feiyan—the leaders of the other two halls harbored deep apprehensions. If the hearts of the people were all bought up by your Patriarch, what would become of the rest of them?! Furthermore, when the four major halls were surrounded by the Military Statistics Bureau in Chongqing in 1943, the Patriarch had put Qin Baichuan on the roasting rack, completely disregarding his life or death, leaving Qin Baichuan harboring a deep-seated grudge.

Additionally, ever since the War of Resistance began, Qian Yuelin's situation in the north had gone from bad to worse. Once the War of Liberation broke out, he was practically unable to survive there any longer. He wanted to migrate south, yet feared conflicting with the Patriarch's hall. In truth, he had already made several secret southward trips to poach business; the Patriarch knew about it, but out of the greater picture, he had chosen not to investigate. Later, Qian Yuelin brought a group of members down to southern Guangdong, eyeing the four southern provinces, only to be driven back by Jiang Feiyan, leaving him burning with hatred. The Jiang-Huai region was prosperous and southern Guangdong had seen little war—everyone knew these were two fat pieces of meat. Qian Yuelin saw it in his eyes and felt anxious in his heart, but both the Patriarch and Jiang Feiyan possessed formidable strength, leaving him anxious and helpless. Unwilling to lower himself to submit and pledge allegiance to the Patriarch, he chose to collude with Qin Baichuan instead.

Collusion was, in truth, a manifestation of weakness. They had calculated privately that if they didn't unite to deal with the Patriarch soon, within a few years, the "Jiangxiang Faction" would likely truly be unified under the Patriarch's banner! Qin Baichuan and Qian Yuelin discussed the matter and agreed that, come hell or high water, they had to eliminate the Patriarch. Once the Patriarch was gone, Jiang Feiyan would be easy to handle; at that point, they would redivide the spheres of influence. Qin Baichuan would continue leading the Western Faction and bring the four southern provinces under his command, while Qian Yuelin would lead the Eastern Faction and take over all of the Patriarch's territory. The two men even plotted to carve up the female members under Jiang Feiyan's command, agreeing to wipe her out if she refused to comply! In the end, the two decided that Qian Yuelin should fake submission to the Patriarch; only by getting close to the Patriarch could he probe the bottom line of the Patriarch's hall, see if he could suborn a few hall assistants, and execute an inside-and-outside coordinated strike to completely uproot the Eastern Faction.