Chapter 11: Thank You, Big Brother Ma, for the Complimentary Iron Fishing Rod

Inner courtyard, the kitchen hall.

After reporting in, Feng Xiaobao led Shen Xiuhan here and pointed offhandedly at a wooden basin:

"Set them down there. By the way, how much for these fish in your creel?"

Shen Xiuhan cupped his fist with a smile:

"Senior Brother Ma gave instructions yesterday — everything at twenty-five wen per fish."

"Twenty-five wen... fine, we'll go with what the third junior brother said."

Shen Xiuhan flipped open the creel and reached in, pulling out three four-striped fish.

Feng Xiaobao took one look, and his amiable brows knotted at once. His voice dropped:

"How come they're all four-stripe stock?"

"Yesterday I specifically asked the kitchen cook, and he told me the more stripes on a silver-striped fish's back, the more flavorful the flesh!"

"Don't tell me... you heard that I, Feng Xiaobao, am a fiend for fish, and figured you'd palm off second-rate goods to swindle my money?"

A chill ran through Shen Xiuhan. This Feng Xiaobao could flip moods as fast as flipping pages — it nearly threw him off balance.

But his own reflexes were sharp. He held up the broken half of his rod, wearing a rueful look:

"Brother Feng, please hear me out."

"I'd have loved to bring more top-grade silver-stripes, but luck wasn't on my side today."

"I only landed these three four-stripers, and just when I'd finally hooked something big, not only couldn't I reel it in — the brute snapped my bamboo rod clean in half!"

"I was worried the silver-stripes would lose their freshness if I delayed, so I rushed them over without even replacing my rod... Brother Feng, if you don't believe me, just look at the break. It's fresh as can be."

Feng Xiaobao's gaze bored into the fracture, scrutinizing it for a long moment.

Then, without warning, the storm clouds vanished from that slab-like face. He threw his head back and roared with laughter:

"Hahaha! So that's what happened! You've got heart — I wronged you!"

The laughter died, his eyes rolled as if a thought had struck, and he slapped his thigh:

"I'm mad for fish — can't go a day without itching for it. And as it happens..."

"My third junior brother's been obsessed with fishing lately and bought himself a handful of top-quality rods. Wait here a moment — I'll go pick one out for you to use!"

He spun on his heel and swept out like a gust of wind.

Shen Xiuhan's mouth hung open. It took him a good while to recover.

Ma Xianyang was obsessed with fishing and had bought a bunch of rods?

More likely, in his desperation to shatter the Blood Tempering bottleneck, he'd not only cast a wide net of informants to buy fish — he'd been trying to hook a treasure fish with his own hands!

While Shen Xiuhan was still mulling it over, the footsteps returned.

Feng Xiaobao barged back through the door, and in his hand was a gleaming rod — jet-black from end to end, forged entirely of refined iron!

The shaft gave off a dark, cold luster. Wound around it was a line of twisted silk thread, and the tip was fitted with a complete set of precision-forged steel barbed hooks.

"Here — take it, on loan!"

"With proper gear in hand, you'd better reel in plenty of good fish for the hall from now on!"

Shen Xiuhan accepted the rod and hefted it once. He knew at a glance this was an exceptional piece of equipment.

At the butt end, four small characters were engraved: "Bai Clan Tackle."

The Bai family controlled the lion's share of business at the West Market fish exchange, and also manufactured and sold all manner of premium fishing rods, nets, and vessels.

This rod was a Bai-family product. The price would not have been cheap.

But Shen Xiuhan put on a reluctant look and tried to refuse: "This... this belongs to Brother Ma. How could I possibly..."

"Don't worry about it!"

Feng Xiaobao waved him off:

"Junior Brother Ma's already left for Changshui County. He won't be back for ten days to half a month. Just use it — if anything comes up, I'll handle it!"

Changyun County and Changshui County both fell under Nanxiang Commandery's jurisdiction, both built along Yunshui Lake, their people likewise making their living from fishing.

Ma Xianyang had gone to Changshui County...

Could that also be for a treasure fish?

"Besides..."

Feng Xiaobao suddenly lowered his voice with a grin:

"Junior Brother Ma bought that rod over a month ago. He's been out to Yunshui Lake three times, and hasn't landed so much as a single scale — comes back empty-handed every time. It's just collecting dust..."

Well, well — so Ma Xianyang was a serial skunk too!

Shen Xiuhan gathered himself, cupped his fist in a bow: "In that case, it'd be rude to refuse. I'll take my leave."

"Off you go, off you go..."

As the figure vanished beyond the moon gate, the smile slowly drained from Feng Xiaobao's face. He stood beneath the eaves, hands clasped behind his back, and said mildly:

"Come out."

The words had barely left his mouth when a figure slipped from a side room — lean build, high cheekbones. He strode forward and bowed with a cupped fist:

"Second Senior Brother."

Had Shen Xiuhan still been present, he'd have recognized this man in an instant — one of the two Golden Dragon Gang lookouts who'd been watching him from the teahouse when he first entered the inner city.

Feng Xiaobao turned to face him, his expression warming:

"Ah Zhe, it's been a while since you left the hall. How's life in the Golden Dragon Gang treating you?"

The lean man called Ah Zhe hastily put on a flattering smile: "Only thanks to the senior brothers looking out for me — otherwise I wouldn't have a bowl of rice to eat!"

"Hahaha..."

Feng Xiaobao laughed heartily, wagging a finger at him: "You rascal, a few years away from the hall and you've gotten slippery."

The laugh cut short. His face turned grave:

"Down to business... the job Xianyang assigned — how's it going?"

Ah Zhe answered promptly:

"Reporting to Second Senior Brother: I tailed the kid the whole way, watched him like a hawk. Confirmed he had no treasure fish on him. Tian Erhu at the inner-city gate had nothing to report either."

"So it seems... he really didn't catch one."

Feng Xiaobao's brows furrowed. He paced a few steps with hands behind his back, pondering for a moment:

"Hm. Then keep tailing the little runt. Don't let up."

"Yes, sir!"

Feng Xiaobao nodded, and a meaningful smile curved the corner of his mouth:

"I lent him Xianyang's rod. When Xianyang gets back from Changshui County, he'll naturally go collect it."

"And you know as well as I — Xianyang's things don't come free. When the time comes, if that kid can't produce a treasure fish as 'rent'... hahaha!"

Ah Zhe's face split into a knowing grin. He bowed: "Brilliant move, Second Senior Brother."

...

Rod in hand, Shen Xiuhan walked out of the hall and glanced back at the plaque hanging high above.

He'd felt it plainly — Feng Xiaobao's generous "loan" had been nothing of the sort. Beneath the surface, it was a trap designed to force his hand.

Shen Xiuhan had no doubt that if he'd refused, the man would have turned hostile on the spot.

"Tongbei Martial Hall..."

"Ma Xianyang, Feng Xiaobao..."

Shen Xiuhan pressed his lips tight, gripped the rod hard, swept a glance around him, then turned and melted into the street crowd.

He wandered the East Market at a leisurely pace, using the flow of people and the cover of stalls, haggling at a few shops and picking up a pound of sorghum flour.

All the while, he doubled back, looped around, and checked repeatedly for anyone trailing him.

Once he was sure the earlier tail had dropped off, Shen Xiuhan changed direction in an instant and strode swiftly toward the north side of the city.

...

Mei Martial Hall.

Its scale rivaled Tongbei Martial Hall — another grand three-courtyard estate.

Vermilion walls, blue-gray tile roofing.

Two stone lions flanked the entrance, eyes bulging, fangs bared — radiating an unmistakable air of "strangers, keep out."

Before he'd even crossed the threshold, the rhythmic bark of drill commands echoed from within, punctuated by shouts and the crack of fists splitting air.

Through the gate, a wide sparring ground opened up before him.

Weapon racks lined the perimeter — sabers, spears, swords, halberds, axes, hook-blades, all standing at attention.

In the corners sat iron-and-wood striking dummies of various sizes alongside stone padlocks.

Across the flagstone yard, twenty or thirty disciples drilled in pairs.

What came as a mild surprise was the five or six women among them.

They wore close-fitting martial garb cinched at the waist with broad belts, their hair swept up in high knots. They shouted and struck with a dashing vigor, advancing and retreating with agile grace, utterly devoid of the fragile air common to most women.

"Plant your stances firm!"

"If you want to rise above, you'll swallow the bitterest of bitters!"

"Loose hips and sagging stances — go back and add two extra hours of training!"

In the center of the yard, a young woman paced through the rows of disciples holding horse stances, hands clasped behind her back, barking reprimands.

She wore a black martial tunic, sleeves bound tight, her dark hair gathered high and pinned with a plain silver hairpin, baring a smooth forehead and a pair of eyes as cold and cutting as drawn blades.

The moment Shen Xiuhan paused at the entrance, her gaze swept over.

Those sharp eyes raked across him in a single pass, sizing him up from head to toe. She stepped forward:

"You don't look familiar. Are you here to study at our hall?"