Chapter Two: The Uninvited Guest

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The old man in black fixed his shadowy gaze on the darkness where houses intertwined in the distance, standing silent and unmoving.

“Master, why have we stopped? Once we cross this mountain, we’ll reach the border of Swallow Ridge, and in no time at all, we’ll…” The gaunt-faced man beside him could hardly contain his impatience.

“Shut up, Fifth! You’re always so damn jumpy. Listen to the master!” A scar-faced man behind them cut him off abruptly.

Without a word, the old man in black drew a pipe from his sleeve and packed it with tobacco from the Northeast.

The uncertain glow of the pipe flared and faded in the night, while the cold moonlight spilled over, and mysterious smoke drifted through the air.

“Earth Dragon devours Heaven, Blood Fiend emerges from the mountains. There is no return from this path. An omen of great disaster.”

After a long silence, the old man finally let out these few words.

The others exchanged uneasy glances, save for Fifth, whose face showed complete indifference, as if none of it concerned him.

Scar Face hesitated, then leaned in close to the old man and whispered, “Master, we’ve been preparing for this job for ages. Every time it’s been dangerous—blades and boiling oil—but we pulled through, didn’t we? We’ll be fine, as long as we stay sharp and keep our wits about us.”

The old man cast a glance over his shoulder, reading the faces behind him. It was clear they all shared the same thought. He sighed inwardly—such disappointing brats. Time and again, people fall because of greed, ending up with nothing, losing their lives for nothing. He shook his head with a bitter smile. Wasn’t he the same? He’d spent most of his life living on the edge of a knife, and now, as he aged, his courage had only shrunk. If not for that one thing, he’d have long since washed his hands of this business and retired in peace.

“Enough. I have a bad feeling about this trip—everyone, be careful. Send someone ahead to scout.”

With that, the old man made up his mind, and the group melted into the vast night.

Warehouse gatehouse, Fertilizer Factory.

Director Liu yawned uncontrollably and shoved the chessboard away. “That’s it, Old Duan. I swear, you’re like that pig in glasses pretending to be a scholar. Every day you torture me like this, life’s hardly worth living.”

Ignoring Old Duan, who was still poring over the chess manual with feigned profundity, Liu grabbed his mug and gulped down his tea, not even bothering to keep track of Old Duan’s mounting debts.

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“Liu, old friend, you have to find some joy in life. Look at you—always cynical, always complaining.”

The words caught Liu off-guard, making him choke and spit tea all over Old Duan’s face.

At last, Old Duan put down his chess manual, looking utterly dejected.

After a while, boredom drove Director Liu to steer the conversation away from the county chief’s wife to Widow Chen in the loading workshop, telling his stories with spittle flying and gestures flailing.

It was at moments like these that Old Duan felt Liu had truly come alive again. With his endless chatter, it was no wonder the factory manager had assigned him here. That nickname “Big Mouth Liu” was well-earned.

“Old Duan, have you heard? The county police cracked a big case recently—caught a gang of relic traffickers from Fenyang. They say they seized some real treasures this time, all from around here.”

He dropped his voice conspiratorially, holding up eight fingers. “You know—this big. Worth a fortune!”

“Where do you even get this gossip, Liu?”

“How is it gossip? My nephew works at the county police station. He told me when I was home on break—it’s true. They even got a collective commendation for that case.”

“Why do people keep eyeing our little place?” Old Duan looked puzzled.

“Shows how ignorant you are. This area was a cradle of talent and fortune in ancient times—produced many high officials. Do you know this is the birthplace of pre-Qin culture?” Director Liu seized the opportunity to mock Old Duan, jabbing his finger at him.

“Alright, alright, you’re the scholar. Let’s just sit quietly for a bit, okay?” Old Duan begged for mercy.

As they spoke, a chill wind rustled the elm leaves outside the window.

Suddenly, a crow’s cry pierced the woods.

Old Duan’s eye twitched, his brow furrowed. He raised his hand, cutting off Liu’s rambling.

“I think someone’s out there.”

“Hm? Who?” Liu looked around. Besides the night’s darkness, not a soul was in sight. He thought Old Duan must be hearing things after all these years in this lonely post. Who would come here in the dead of night? He was about to say so when—

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Old Duan turned and drew a flashlight, disappearing outside in a flash.

He leapt forward, sweeping the dim beam over the surroundings. For a moment, he caught a glimpse of a shadow slipping behind a tree just as the light passed.

“Who’s there?” Old Duan hadn’t spoken yet when Director Liu, summoning his courage, shouted out. But his voice was weak and shaky.

Before the echo faded, an old man in black stepped out, hands clasped in greeting, his face honest and humble. “Comrades, I’m from Wucai Township. My nephews and I were hurrying through the night and lost our way. Could you tell us how to get to Huangjiatai?”

Director Liu peered closer. The old man had a pipe tucked into his belt, and those behind him looked like simple country folk. His suspicion eased, and he called out, “Oh, Uncle! If you’re in such a hurry, you still shouldn’t rush at night. Out here, there’s no road, no shop, and who knows what wild animals you might meet?”

The old man chuckled awkwardly and waved it off. “No matter, we’re used to traveling the countryside at night. We’ve seen it all.”

“Uncle, still—you need to be careful. The mountain paths are rough. Just keep going along this road, cross the ridge ahead, and you’ll see three big locust trees—that’s Huangjiatai.” Director Liu, ever helpful, pointed toward the distant peaks.

“Thank you, comrades. Much obliged. We’ll be on our way.” The old man led his group to leave.

Meanwhile, Old Duan’s flashlight swept toward the road again, the beam trailing the old man as he turned to go. Yet the old man, as if sensing it, shifted and dodged so deftly that not a single ray of light touched him. Director Liu, however, didn’t notice this fleeting oddity.

He laughed it off, pulling Old Duan back inside.

“Duan, you really do have good ears. Revolution’s vigilance lives on! That deserves some praise.”

Liu joked, but saw Duan was silent, lost in thought, as if something had just occurred to him.