The next morning.
Chen Anshun wrapped his black-sheathed long knife in cloth, slung it over his back, and left the Zhao Residence, heading towards the docks.
At the entrance of Xu Liang's residence, two house servants were squatting on the steps, gnawing on sesame cakes. Seeing him approach, one of them stood up and gave him a once-over.
"You're the one who came before..."
"Chen Anshun. I'm here to see your Chief Well Boss."
The house servant shouted inside. Before a response came, there was a sound of quick footsteps from the main hall, followed by Xu Liang's booming voice.
"Back again? This time I don't have three hundred taels for you!"
Xu Liang strode out, dressed in a gray short robe, holding a purple clay teapot, clearly just up.
As he got closer, he paused.
His nostrils flared slightly, his gaze sliding from Chen Anshun's face to his shoulder and back down to his feet.
"You've broken through."
A Second-rate Martial Artist's perception was extremely keen.
The steady and profound aura emanating from Chen Anshun was completely different from when he came a few days ago. Not long ago, he was at the peak of a third-rate level with a thousand pounds of force, but today it was all internalized, power sinking into his muscles and bones.
This was the mark of entering the Initial Second-rate Realm.
Xu Liang shoved the purple clay teapot into the arms of the nearby house servant, took two steps forward, and slapped Chen Anshun on the shoulder.
"Well, Chen Old Dog! Just a few days ago, you borrowed money from me saying you wanted to give it a try. I thought it would take you at least half a year, but you broke through in less than a month?"
"To be precise," Chen Anshun tilted slightly from the slap, "eleven days."
"Eleven days?!" Xu Liang's voice rose another notch, "Then what are you here for today? Surely not to pay back the money?"
Chen Anshun didn't smile.
"Let's talk inside."
In the flower hall, the tea was freshly brewed again. Xu Liang sat in the grand master's chair, crossing his legs, his thumb rubbing the rim of the teacup.
"Speak."
"The Zhao Residence offered a blue-tiled house, and my monthly salary increased to five taels." Chen Anshun held the teacup without drinking, resting it on his knee, "The terms are good, but the money comes slowly. With my current daily training expenses, five taels wouldn't last even three days."
Xu Liang didn't interrupt, waiting for him to finish.
"Last time you said the Water Gang had good income. I'm not here to borrow money. I want to find a job, exchange strength for silver. But I can't be away from the Zhao Residence for too long; it has to be a job in the city."
Xu Liang's thumb paused on the cup rim.
He stared at Chen Anshun for a few moments, then suddenly uncrossed his legs and leaned forward.
"There is indeed a job in the city."
He extended a finger, tapping it on the table.
"Among the Thirteen Wells, there's one called Zhongtian Well."
"Zhongtian Well?"
Xu Liang drew a circle on the table with his finger, "The water quality from this well is the best among the Thirteen Wells—sweet, pure, and the tea brewed from it is a cut above the rest. Nearby restaurants, tea houses, and wealthy households all rely on this well for water. Just this one well brings in over two hundred taels a month."
Over two hundred taels. One well, over two hundred taels a month.
Chen Anshun's fingers paused on the teacup.
"But," Xu Liang withdrew his finger from the table, leaning back against the chair, "this well hasn't been peaceful lately."
"How so?"
"The Rice Gang."
With those two words, Xu Liang's face turned a bit colder.
"The Rice Gang is another force in Qingquan County, dealing in grain. Previously, they and the Water Gang didn't interfere with each other, each minding their own business. But in the past two years, grain prices have fallen, and their days have been tough, so they've set their sights on our water wells."
He raised two fingers.
"They've tested us twice. The first time, they sent people to block our water delivery workers in the alley near Zhongtian Well, injuring three. The second time was even worse; they threw dead rats into the well at midnight, and the next day rumors spread throughout the alley that Zhongtian Well's water was unclean."
Chen Anshun's brow furrowed slightly.
"What does the Gang Leader think?"
"The Gang Leader is dealing with other matters and can't attend to this." Xu Liang waved his hand, "The Thirteen Wells are under my jurisdiction. Zhongtian Well originally had a Second-rate Martial Artist guarding it, named Sun Dabiao, one of my men. But with just Sun Dabiao holding the fort, I'm not at ease."
He looked at Chen Anshun.
"The Rice Gang doesn't have any First-rate Martial Artists, but they have several Second-rate ones. If it comes to a fight, Sun Dabiao alone can't hold them off."
The implication was clear.
"You go guard Zhongtian Well. You can still live at the Zhao Residence, train as you should. If anything happens at Zhongtian Well, you can rush over to support. It's only five hundred steps away, and if you run fast, you'll be there in ten breaths."
"How much is the monthly salary?"
"Thirty taels."
Chen Anshun picked up the teacup and took a sip.
Thirty taels. Adding the Zhao Residence's five taels, that's thirty-five taels a month. Although it's still far from the twelve taels needed daily, at least it can keep him going.
"What if a real fight breaks out?"
Xu Liang chuckled.
"If you win, we'll discuss it separately. The heads of the Rice Gang aren't worth much, but if you protect Zhongtian Well, you'll definitely get your share of the year-end bonus."
Chen Anshun put down the teacup.
"Alright."
"You agreed just like that? Not even asking how many Second-rate Martial Artists the Rice Gang has?"
"What difference would it make? Not go?"
"Chen Old Dog, you're still as stubborn as a mule, just like forty years ago!"
After laughing, he pulled out a copper token from his sleeve and slapped it onto the table. The token was palm-sized, with a well engraved on the front and the words "Zhongtian" on the back.
"Take it. This is the Guard Token for Zhongtian Well. Show it, and the people at the well will recognize you. Go report to Zhongtian Well tomorrow, meet with Sun Dabiao. He's got a foul temper, but his fists are strong; you two should get along."
Chen Anshun tucked the token into his chest and stood to leave.
Xu Liang called after him.
"Old Chen."
"Hmm?"
Xu Liang's smile faded, his expression turning serious.
"The Rice Gang recently brought someone to Qingquan County."
He raised a finger.
"Nickname is Iron Weight. Second-rate Peak, said to be able to punch through three inches of bluestone with one blow. This person isn't local to Qingquan County; he's a thug the Rice Gang brought in from Ningchuan Prefecture specifically to deal with Zhongtian Well."
Second-rate Peak.
Chen Anshun, who had just entered the Second-rate, paused.
"You've just broken through; your foundation is still thin." Xu Liang tapped his finger on his knee twice, "If you really run into Iron Weight, don't take him head-on. Just hold him off; I'll send people over."
Chen Anshun didn't say yes or no.
He turned and walked out of the flower hall, his steps echoing on the bluestone path, the black-sheathed long knife wrapped in cloth swaying with his stride.
The token in his chest pressed against his ribs, cold.
Second-rate Peak. Iron Weight. A punch through three inches of bluestone.
His right hand unconsciously reached behind him, feeling the sharkskin texture on the knife handle.
White Tiger Carries the Corpse, just mastered last night.
Whether it's enough, he'll only know after trying.
Exiting the Xu Residence gate, Chen Anshun took a few steps towards the Zhao Residence, then suddenly stopped.
Across the alley, at a tea stall, a stocky man was holding a bowl of tea, looking towards the Xu Residence through the rising steam, his expression unreadable.
The man's right hand was under the table, out of sight.
The way he held the tea bowl with his left hand was wrong—the thumb was pressed on the rim, with four fingers gripping the bowl.
It was a grip for holding something, not for drinking tea.
Chen Anshun stepped back, turned into a narrow alley beside him, leaned against the wall, and drew the cloth-wrapped knife from his back.
The cloth fell to the ground, the black-sheathed long knife held horizontally in front of him.
From the direction of the alley entrance, the sound of the tea bowl clinking on the table rang out, crisp and clear.