Chapter Forty-Seven: Venturing Alone into the Wolf’s Den

The two elderly men in their sixties were none other than Zhang Xun and Kang Youwei. At this time, Kang Youwei held no official position, so neither Zhou Yi nor Baozi recognized him.

Seated with them was a middle-aged man dressed in a blue mandarin jacket, who was just raising his cup in a toast. As he stood, the sunlight caught a glint from the blade tucked at his waist—a sharp, gleaming dagger—identifying him as Zhang Zuozheng.

Next to Kang Youwei sat another man, clad in a gray-white long robe and wearing a woolen formal hat.

The sight of these two men made Zhou Yi grit his teeth in hatred; it turned out that both of his enemies had gathered together. The one in the gray-white robe was none other than Zuo Zhi.

Zhou Yi let the window fall shut, turned, and started down the stairs, but Baozi quickly grabbed his arm. “You said yourself we must be careful, so why are you losing control the moment you see them? Calm down. There are so many of them, and they have guns. They have the advantage.”

Baozi spoke quickly as he held Zhou Yi back. At this moment, even the two of them with their meager cultivation would have to be cautious. Even a master at the pinnacle of demon-slaying would not be able to withstand a hail of bullets. Spiritual energy was no match for bullets.

Under Baozi’s persuasion, Zhou Yi gradually quieted down. He licked the blood from his lips, drawn by his own teeth, his eyes once again bloodshot.

“Calm yourself. This is not the time for revenge. We need to look for an opportunity,” Baozi continued to urge him.

Zhou Yi nodded, now composed. “Let’s set aside the matter of the key for now. You return to the inn and bring Xun Feng. I’ll stay and keep watch on them.”

Baozi shook his head. “You go get Xun Feng. I’ll watch them here.” Baozi was afraid Zhou Yi might lose control and do something rash if he stayed behind.

“Very well. You keep watch, I’ll be back soon,” Zhou Yi said, then turned and descended the stairs.

But as soon as Zhou Yi stepped out of the Yingyan Lou, he ran into two more familiar faces: it was Mingchuan Youzhi and Suzuki Yuuichi.

“Haha, as an old Chinese saying goes, ‘There’s no telling where paths might cross.’ Zhou, I hadn’t expected to see you here again. What a rare stroke of fortune,” Mingchuan Youzhi said, ever polite and courteous, never giving anyone cause to fault him.

“Mr. Mingchuan, what brings you here?” Zhou Yi’s brow furrowed. Mingchuan’s appearance at this moment only complicated matters further.

“An invitation from a friend. If you’re free, Zhou, why not join me upstairs for a drink?” Mingchuan invited with a smile.

“I’m very sorry, but I have other matters to attend to. Please forgive me,” Zhou Yi replied, shaking his head.

It was clear that Mingchuan was here for Zhang Xun. With Zhang Zuozheng and Zuo Zhi upstairs as well, going up would be like stepping into a tiger’s den.

“You Chinese have such beautiful fiancées. Next time I’m in the Northeast, I’ll be sure to visit,” Suzuki Yuuichi said darkly from behind Mingchuan, after Zhou Yi declined.

Hearing Suzuki mention Wu Qianwen, Zhou Yi was instantly enraged. “You bastard, do you believe I won’t kill you right here and now?” Before the words had even faded, Zhou Yi had grabbed Suzuki by the throat.

Suzuki’s hand went to the katana at his waist, but Zhou Yi was faster—he hooked Suzuki’s leg and kicked him in the knee. Suzuki tried to kneel, but Zhou Yi’s grip on his throat held him fast.

“Forgive Suzuki’s offense; I apologize on his behalf. Please, Zhou, let it pass,” Mingchuan interjected smoothly to defuse the situation.

Zhou Yi narrowed his eyes. “I hate being threatened. This is the first and last time.” With that, he released Suzuki’s throat and landed a sharp kick to his abdomen.

Suzuki staggered back and fell, but sprung up quickly and drew his katana, ready to attack.

Mingchuan, having already diffused the conflict, could not allow Suzuki to act recklessly. He grabbed the back of Suzuki’s blade. “Bakayaro!” he barked.

Seeing Mingchuan defend Zhou Yi, Suzuki swallowed his anger, glaring at Zhou Yi with eyes full of fury.

“I have business elsewhere. May I go now?” Zhou Yi wanted to leave as quickly as possible.

“To run into each other in such a vast city—I believe it’s fate, Zhou. For the sake of this fateful meeting, you mustn’t refuse me. Come, let’s go upstairs for a drink,” Mingchuan invited once again.

Zhou Yi knew there was no avoiding it today and finally nodded in assent. Besides, Suzuki’s earlier threat lingered in his mind. Though he said he would never care for Wu Qian again, deep down he still worried for and missed her.

He could not ignore Suzuki’s words. Thinking of this, he recalled Wu Qian, who had almost become his wife, and his heart filled with bitterness. She had misunderstood him because Pi Zi had taken on his appearance to murder Wu Guishun. Her harshness toward him was only natural, but why wouldn’t she listen to his explanation?

Whenever he thought of her, his hatred diminished, and he forgot the vow he once made never to see her again.

Zhou Yi considered all this in an instant, then shook his head to banish these distracting thoughts. Now was not the time for such things. With two enemies drinking upstairs, he needed to focus on how to handle the awkward situation he was about to face.

When they reached the second-floor entrance, Mingchuan held the door open and gestured for Zhou Yi to enter.

Zhou Yi would not go in first, so he let Mingchuan precede him.

“Marshal Zhang, Brother Guangxia, it’s been three months since we last met. I hope you’ve been well,” Mingchuan greeted them, clasping his fists in a respectful salute after entering.

“Haha, Mr. Mingchuan, you truly are a connoisseur of Chinese culture. In just three months you’ve learned even more of our customs. Please, have a seat,” Zhang Xun said, standing up with a smile.

“Chinese culture is vast and profound. I have only scratched the surface. Marshal Zhang, after you,” Mingchuan replied.

Once they were seated, Mingchuan stood up again. “Marshal Zhang, Brother Guangxia, this is a friend I met in the Northeast.”

As Mingchuan introduced him, Zhou Yi offered a slight smile and returned the salute. “I am Zhou Yi. Pleased to meet you, Marshal Zhang. I heard in the Northeast how you forbade your subordinates from cutting their queues. Such loyalty and integrity truly inspire admiration.”

Zhang Xun laughed heartily at this flattery, clearly pleased. “To have befriended Mr. Mingchuan at such a young age, your future is limitless. Please, have a seat.”

Zhou Yi took his seat with a polite smile, but when he glanced at Zhang Zuozheng and Zuo Zhi, his gaze was cold and steely.

Zhang Zuozheng and Zuo Zhi looked equally uncomfortable upon seeing Zhou Yi, hiding their awkwardness behind their cups.

There is perhaps no more helpless situation than Zhou Yi’s now: drinking at the same table as his enemies, unable to show any sign of enmity—any misstep would invite a deadly blow from Zuo Zhi and Zhang Zuozheng.

Baozi, observing from the opposite building, had sensed trouble as soon as he saw Mingchuan approaching. But remembering Zhou Yi’s parting admonition to act with caution, Baozi did not rush downstairs.

When he saw Zhou Yi and Mingchuan head upstairs to drink, a sense of foreboding welled up inside him. Anxious but helpless, he could only pray for Zhou Yi’s safety.

Since there was little he could do, Baozi decided to return to the inn to fetch Xun Feng. Yet this very move would bring Zhou Yi even greater trouble...