"I can't tell the difference." I smiled, looking very composed. "To be honest, I know almost nothing about tea ceremony, I can't tell the difference between good and bad tea, and I'm not very good at drinking tea... But, Master Ba, the tea you used must be good stuff, and the stuff you use must be of good quality."
Eighth Master laughed, squinting at me: "You are very honest."
“That’s not exactly honest,” I said calmly. “I lie too—there are plenty of people in this world who don’t lie. It’s just that I don’t think it’s necessary to lie about this kind of question.”
“You are a very good young man.” Eighth Master smiled. “I spoke with Old Cat and Old Kong on the phone. Before you came, they both said you were good.”
I remained silent, and my expression showed no emotion.
Eighth Master sighed deeply: "You're right. No one in this world is without ever lying. Actually... let me tell you a little secret..."
He waved his hand across the tea set in front of him and chuckled, “This tea set is high-end, worth tens of thousands of yuan, and it’s made by a famous artist! This jar of tea costs over 1,600 yuan per 50 grams… It’s quite expensive, so it’s naturally very good. But, to be honest… I’m just like you. I can’t really taste what’s so good about this 1,600 yuan per 50 grams tea…” He chuckled again, “Actually, to me, this stuff isn’t much different from the big bowls of cold tea I drank back in the army.”
We looked at each other and laughed.
“The tea ceremony symbolizes status, and given my current position, I must do things be befitting my status. Therefore, I must put on this air. I must present myself properly here. I even specifically learned the essential procedures for appreciating Gongfu tea from a tea ceremony expert… and all of this is simply because it is necessary!”
I sensed a deeper meaning in Eighth Master's words, but he didn't say it explicitly, and I didn't understand his meaning. I could only remain silent.
"Chen Yang, in recent years, I've rarely met a young person I admire. I can tell you very clearly, you are one! I'm glad Fatty sent you to me. As for your choice, I don't want to say much. In short, you chose to do this, you chose to follow us to do some big things, so everything must follow the rules of this circle!"
"I see."
“You were sent by Fatty, and I admire you; you even saved Seventh Brother once. Logically, I should take care of you. But this circle has its own rules, so I must explain them to you first!”
"Eighth Master, please speak."
“Okay.” His smile faded, and his expression turned serious. “You should understand that we are an organization! We hold a certain influence within the Chinese community in Canada. At the same time, I must tell you… we are illicit!”
"I see."
Eighth Master glanced at me quickly: "Seventh Brother and I are just members of this organization, or rather, we're just regional leaders in Vancouver. The difference is that Seventh Brother has retired from the criminal world, so he basically doesn't interfere in the organization's affairs. I can let you come and work for me directly. But as I said, we have our rules... and rules are rules! No one can break them! Including myself! So even though I admire you, and even though there's a favor from Fatty Fang involved, I can't directly allow you to join our organization!"
I remained silent, looking at Eighth Master, quietly waiting for him to continue.
A hint of satisfaction flashed in Eighth Master's eyes, as if he appreciated my patience.
"To get into this circle, you must first do something that earns the respect of the brothers in the organization!" Eighth Master narrowed his eyes and said slowly, "Have you read the story of Lin Chong going to Liangshan on a snowy night in Water Margin?"
"I've seen it."
"Leopard Head, huh?" Eighth Master seemed to sigh. Then he slowly pulled a pipe from his pocket, tapped it twice on the table, added tobacco, lit it, and gently exhaled a puff of smoke. Only then did he look at me meaningfully: "The instructor of the 800,000 Imperial Guards! His martial arts skills are top-notch even on Liangshan, but even such a great hero had to overcome a hurdle before joining the group!"
Then Eighth Master laughed and said, "Of course, you are not Lin Chong, and I am not the jealous and envious scholar Wang Lun, and our organization is not Liangshan Marsh... but there is one thing that is the same!"
I sighed, understanding what Eighth Master meant, and slowly said, "A pledge of allegiance?"
“Yes, a pledge of loyalty.” Eighth Master said quickly, “If you want to join, you must first do something that earns everyone’s approval!”
I immediately stood up: "What should I do?"
Eighth Master stopped wasting my breath and pointed to the cups on the table: "See these cups?"
"Um."
"Do you remember the day you first arrived, when your seventh uncle was almost cornered at home and killed?"
"Um."
"One of our business deals offended those Vietnamese. Anyway, we've been fighting with the Vietnamese for so many years, we don't care about adding another grudge. But there's something strange about this! I can't tell you the specifics right now, I can only say that we originally did it very discreetly, and the Vietnamese shouldn't have known. But they found out! And as revenge, they targeted Uncle Qi! Of course, we have ways to deal with the Vietnamese, but the problem now is that I need to find out who told the Vietnamese about it! Fortunately, secrets are hard to keep in this world. I've already found some leads. It's another local Chinese organization called Gan Di."
"A Chinese organization?" I was somewhat surprised.
“Yes,” Eighth Master said calmly, “Actually, our relationship with the local traditional Chinese gangs has never been very good. It’s just that everyone has toned it down a lot in the last two years, after all, we’re all Chinese. Fighting each other makes us a laughing stock for foreigners! But this time they’ve crossed the line! Your Seventh Uncle has already retired from the gang and doesn’t care about the organization anymore! I can ignore the Vietnamese for not knowing our Chinese rules and still attacking him. But those Chinese… they’re Chinese too! According to the rules of the Chinese underworld, once you’ve retired, you shouldn’t be dragged into these feuds anymore. They should understand that!” Eighth Master’s voice carried a hint of coldness: “I don’t care what those foreigners do, and it’s none of my business! But as Chinese, they actually did something that violated the rules…”
I saw a hint of murderous intent flash in Eighth Master's eyes!
He pointed to the teacups on the table: "I originally invited several prominent figures from local Chinese gangs over today for a chat, to get things straight! I know who caused this mess, and we'll definitely get justice! But I hoped the others wouldn't interfere! It's a pity... it seems we haven't made any big moves for too long. Now that we're out here negotiating, they seem to have forgotten what happened before! Hmph, they take our politeness for granted! Today's events were just a test! If that guy were alone, I'm sure he wouldn't have been so bold! But he dared to do it, so I think it's a test from the local Chinese gangs! If we're weak, they'll unite and pressure us step by step! I can see some clues about today's events! Hmph..."
I understand. It seems that Eighth Master and those people didn't get along very well before.
"Rules are rules! Anyone who breaks the rules must pay the price! Otherwise, if everyone dares to break the rules and cross the line in the future, then we might as well give up!"
Eighth Master slowly took out a photo from his pocket, placed it on the table, and gently pushed it over.
"This man must die within three days, I don't care what method you use." Eighth Master's tone was as cold as ice: "If you fail, I'll send someone else to do it... and then you... can go back to washing cars!"
After he finished speaking, he glanced at me.
I didn't say anything, picked up the photo and slowly examined it for a while, and finally said in a casual tone, "Three days, right? I understand."
Part 1: In the Martial World, Not in Control of One's Own Fate, Chapter 140: Blood Washing
East Side St. John's Avenue, Vancouver's Chinatown.
In Shun Chang Zhai, a Cantonese teahouse, I sat by the window, casually watching the street. Vancouver's Chinatown is quite bustling and vibrant, but the typical Southeast Asian architecture always seemed a bit rustic to me. Most of the Chinese here spoke with a southern accent, especially Hokkien and Cantonese. The teahouse played Cantonese opera, which I couldn't understand at all—the tinkling, the soft, melodious sounds…
I was just holding my teacup, looking across the street...
In my pocket was the photo that Eighth Master had given me. It showed a middle-aged man, about forty years old. He looked fairly kind in the photo, but a scar on his head completely ruined his appearance. Like many gangsters, he wore a thick gold chain around his neck—clearly, the photo was taken secretly, because he was holding a cigar, sitting in a car, with a somewhat arrogant expression.
This person's name sounds like "Sand Snake," and he is a prominent figure in the "Luo Clan Association," a well-known organization in Vancouver's Chinatown area.
Clan associations are a very distinctive term in Vancouver's Chinatown—basically, here, so-called clan associations are organizations with ties to organized crime, much like triad societies in China, a product of many historical factors.
There are many clan associations in Chinatown, which are mostly Chinese community groups and gangs, but the Luo Clan Association is clearly one of the most influential here.
I know. The target that Eighth Master gave me—this guy whose name sounds like "Sand Snake"—is not his main target in this crackdown on the local Chinatown gangs—he wouldn't entrust such a crucial task to a newcomer like me.
But for me, this matter is one that cannot be compromised.
Eighth Master was very well-prepared; he gave me all the information about Sand Snake. I studied it for a day and discovered he had a very consistent habit, which, of course, is a common trait among men worldwide—womanizing. Sand Snake wasn't the number one figure in the Luo Clan Association; he was at most third or fourth, because the biggest source of income for Chinatown gangs—drug trafficking—wasn't his responsibility. He was in charge of some basic matters in the streets of Chinatown, such as protection money for the sex industry and teahouses.
This is something that makes me very emotional.
In this foreign country, there are Chinese gangs in Chinatown... But what's distasteful is that these local traditional gangs only bully Chinese people and are very weak towards foreigners. Their power is basically confined to Chinatown and they can't extend outwards.
In other words, although they are all immigrants from China, these gangs survive by parasitizing other ordinary Chinese immigrants.
Sand Snake's lustful nature gave me a very important piece of information: he has a lover he really likes who lives on this street.
Looking out from where I'm sitting, across a narrow street, there's a barbershop. It's a rather oddly decorated place; the outside is flashing neon lights and large, trendy advertisements, giving it a fashionable feel, but the inside has a rather rustic vibe. Some of the girls washing hair are wearing pink T-shirts and denim shorts… deliberately showing off their bare legs, creating a somewhat suggestive impression… especially since the hems of their T-shirts are too long, almost obscuring their shorts, making them look a little erotic.
This place is a notorious brothel in the nearby Chinatown. It's run by one of Sand Snake's many mistresses. And now, Sand Snake comes here almost every two or three days.
Of course, a portion of the profits from this event also belongs to the Luo Clan Association.
I've been sitting in the teahouse across the street for the entire afternoon. The street isn't bustling. There aren't many pedestrians, and on this narrow street, I haven't even seen many cars drive in during the whole afternoon. The teahouse's waiter is a very young Chinese boy, so young you might even doubt his age. For the past hour, he's been giving me suspicious looks from time to time.
I know that I've been sitting for too long and it's already attracted attention.
I was wearing a very ordinary light-colored coat, the kind you'd see on the street. My hair was cut very short, and I wore a pair of oversized, black aviator sunglasses that covered a third of my face. With the two fake mustaches I could stick on my lips, I was confident that unless he got close enough to look me up and down, no one would really know what I looked like.
The pot of Tieguanyin tea in front of me had become very weak from being refilled with water so many times. I remained patient, gazing across the street.
Suspicious-looking men were constantly going in and out of that hair salon, presumably there looking for fun. I smoked cigarette after cigarette, and in the swirling smoke, I felt like a venomous snake waiting for its prey…
Finally, at six o'clock in the evening, the target I was waiting for arrived.
A black Ford slowly drove into the street and stopped in front of the hair salon. A man who looked like a driver jumped out of the car first, then opened the back door, and I saw Sand Snake come out from inside.
He was a bit fatter and more muscular in person than in the photos. However, his face carried a rugged air characteristic of someone who had been involved in the underworld, especially the scar on his forehead, which gleamed slightly with oil. His hair was short, with only a layer of stubble. He was wearing a Tang suit, casually touched his forehead, and then strode into the hair salon.
I squinted and watched the driver stand at the door smoking. After waiting for about five minutes, I slowly stood up and carefully put out my cigarette.
I slowly pushed open the door and walked onto the street, head down, towards the driver at a leisurely pace, then walked past him expressionlessly. I noticed he seemed to glance up at me, his eyes holding a scrutinizing look, but he only looked once before turning his gaze away.
I pushed open the door and went inside.
The place inside was clearly small, with only a narrow corridor. Two heavily made-up women stood behind the counter at the entrance, both dressed provocatively in long-hemmed T-shirts and shorts with low necklines. As soon as I entered, one of them came forward and greeted me, seemingly in Cantonese. I didn't understand, but I roughly guessed she was asking if I was looking for a prostitute. I simply said "OK." She immediately led me inside, deliberately walking ahead of me and swaying her not-so-slender waist.
It was obvious that the barber chairs and mirrors outside were just for show; the main area was the private shampoo booths in the back. I was led to a somewhat dimly lit room in the back, which didn't even have a door, just a curtain hanging down in front of it. The woman led me in, then left, casually pulling the curtain down behind her.
The small room contained only a recliner, the kind you can lie down to wash your hair. I waited quietly for a while, then carefully took a toy mask out of my pocket and put it on. I then took off my coat, turned it inside out, and put it back on. Just as I finished doing all this, the curtain outside was lifted. A girl wearing a very low-cut top and a short skirt walked in.
I couldn't tell her age from her heavy makeup. She was wearing slippers and looked clearly tired, yet she forced herself to be energetic. Her hair was slightly curly and blond. Apparently, when she suddenly saw someone wearing a mask standing in front of her, she froze, and her instinctive reaction was to open her mouth to scream. I rushed over and covered her mouth with my hand, while my other hand grabbed her neck from the side, pulled her close, and strangled her with my elbow. Then, I raised my hand and made a cut on the artery at the back of her neck.
The woman let out a groan and went limp.
I let go of her, lifted the chain, and went outside.
This is a corridor with many almost identical private rooms on both sides. Each room has a curtain hanging at the door, and some of them have suspicious noises coming from inside.
I slowly walked through the corridor, continuing inwards until I reached the end, where there was a closed door. I pushed it, then took a paperclip out of my pocket, straightened it, and stuck it inside.
This cheap lock opened silently after just a couple of pokes. I could hear a very old Cantonese song playing inside, along with the sound of rushing water.
I took a deep breath and carefully walked in, my back hunched.
This was clearly a private room. Inside, on a retractable chair, Sand Snake lay half-reclined, his face upturned, covered in shaving cream, a white mess. He closed his eyes, his hands resting on the armrests of the chair, occasionally tapping them lightly to the rhythm of the music. A woman stood with her back to me between the chair and the sink. From her back, I could tell she had a great figure, not very tall, but with a slender waist like a water snake. She carefully took a brush and continued applying shaving cream to Sand Snake's chin. On the other side, on the edge of the sink, lay a razor.
The sand snake was clearly in high spirits; his hands quickly slid down, tracing their way up the woman's calves. I heard the woman chuckle, casually slap the sand snake's hands away, and then mutter something under her breath. She swayed her hips to the edge of the pool and picked up a razor.
I waited quietly at the door, hiding behind the wall with only my eyes showing. When the woman turned around and walked towards me, I immediately shrank back.
The footsteps grew closer. The woman reached the doorway, and I immediately grabbed her neck to silence her, dragging her aside. Almost instantly, I landed a precise punch on her chin—a blow that could knock someone unconscious instantly.
Then I silently went into the room.
Sand Snake was unaware of my arrival. When I stood beside him, he still had his eyes closed, his fingers tapping on the edge of the chair, and a somewhat smug expression on his face.
My gaze was calm and cold as I stared at his neck and throat for a long time before gently picking up the razor from the edge of the pool.
The pool was already full of water. I didn't know if the two of them were originally planning to take a bath or do something else. I simply walked quietly to the sand snake's side. He still didn't notice my arrival and kept his eyes closed. He was even humming a little tune softly along with the music.
I gestured slightly with the razor in my hand...
The next second, I reached out and patted Sand Snake on the shoulder. Then, as soon as he opened his eyes slightly, I immediately grabbed his neck from behind and pulled him off the chair despite his struggles. He even tried to twist and turn; I knew he wanted to scream, but with my hand over his throat, he could only manage a few gurgling sounds, unable to utter a single word.
He wasn't weak, but after I put his neck in his hand, he struggled for a while, but his strength weakened due to lack of oxygen. I dragged him to the edge of the pool and then forcefully pushed his neck and above into the water, while my other hand holding the razor reached out...
one time!
The razor sliced across his neck and throat, the blade easily slicing through his throat, skin, and trachea. It was instantly cut open. And because it was underwater, the blood wouldn't spurt out, nor would it splash on me; I just watched as a stream of blood rose from the water…
I took two steps back, releasing the sand snake with both arms. He collapsed to the ground like an emptied sack, his hands clutching his throat. Blood gushed from between his fingers, quickly staining half his body red! Then I watched as he opened his mouth wide, desperately trying to breathe, but because I had severed his trachea, he couldn't breathe no matter how hard he tried!
Gradually, his strength waned as he struggled and twisted on the ground, blood splattering everywhere. I stood coldly to the side, watching him, his eyes bulging out like those of a dead fish, just staring at me, staring at me…
I don't know if there really is such a thing as dying with eyes wide open, but at this moment, the Sand Serpent looks exactly like someone who died with his eyes wide open!
I cautiously walked up to him. Then I looked down at him for a few seconds, and said in a calm tone, "Eighth Master sends his greetings."
Then, regardless of whether he could still hear my last words, I turned around and walked to the pool, indifferently washing the bloodstains on my palms and fingers with water!