Chapter Fifty-Three: Fatty Lin

“What’s going on?” Grimace Zhang, bare-chested and gripping the blade he usually carried on his back, dashed outside.

I followed him out and saw, not far away, two people sprawled across the ground, their bodies twisted in unnatural positions. The earth around them was stained with fresh blood.

At that moment, Kaleidoscope and Master also came running out.

Grimace Zhang and I walked over to take a look. The two men’s heads appeared to have suffered devastating blows; their skulls had caved in, and the skin on their faces looked as though it had been scraped off with a sharp blade—bloodied and horrifying.

“Weren’t these the two men Iron Crutch Liu took with him just now?” I whispered to Grimace Zhang.

He nodded. “Mm.”

A chilling thought crossed my mind. “Could it be Iron Crutch Liu silenced them?”

Grimace Zhang didn’t reply. He glanced at Master and said, “Fourth Brother, get everyone to light bonfires—one in front of each tent.”

Master nodded, and before long, flames flickered before every tent.

“Throw those two down the mountain, then get some sleep,” Grimace Zhang said, turning on his heel and heading back inside.

Baffled, I followed him. By now it was past two in the morning. Lying in his sleeping bag, Grimace Zhang glanced at me. “Why aren’t you going back?”

“What just happened out there? Wasn’t it Iron Crutch Liu?”

Grimace Zhang snorted dismissively. “I already told you—there are black bears in these mountains. Those two must’ve stumbled into one on their way back and got themselves killed.”

Only then did understanding dawn on me. I nodded and returned to my tent.

Mengya was already asleep, blissfully unaware of the bear’s visit outside. I didn’t disturb her; I slid quietly into my sleeping bag and drifted into dreams.

I slept until I woke up naturally. Glancing at my watch, I saw it was almost ten.

Sitting up, I dressed, grabbed a bottle of mineral water, took a sip, and set it aside. Just then, Mengya walked in holding two packs of compressed biscuits.

“Oh, you’re up,” she said, handing me one.

I nodded and opened the package, forcing down a couple of bites. The taste was truly awful—so bad I nearly gagged.

Seeing my grimace, Mengya laughed and handed me some bread. “Have this. I brought it from home.”

“No, thanks. I’m not hungry.”

In truth, I hadn’t eaten at all the previous day, but perhaps I was used to eating well, and there was still enough to keep me from feeling hungry.

She nodded and took the bread back. “By the way, what did Master say yesterday?”

I hesitated. “He said he believes the one in the black cloak, too. There’s definitely a traitor among us.”

Mengya forced a wry smile, nodding absently, almost as if she were in a daze.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

She stared fixedly at the ground, as if she hadn’t heard me.

“Time to move out!” came a shout from Fatty outside.

“Let’s go, it’s time,” I said.

We packed up the tent and our belongings, folded everything neatly, and set off again, winding our way through the mountain roads.

The jostling left me dizzy and nauseous—the driver clearly wasn’t taking any proper road, and for two hours we bounced and rattled until finally, the car stopped at a three-story building nestled in the mountains.

Climbing out, I nearly fell apart from the rough ride.

“You okay?” Mengya steadied me.

I shook my head, glancing at the others. The elders all seemed perfectly fine, except for Iron Crutch Liu, who looked a bit pale—probably still suffering from the blow he took last night.

“Welcome, welcome! Master, and all the venerable guests, welcome!” A chubby man in a tailored suit and leather shoes, his hair curled elaborately, hurried out to greet us, grabbing Dragon King’s hand.

“Old Lin, let me introduce you.” Dragon King gestured toward Grimace Zhang, who was standing off to the side, cigarette in hand, looking unimpressed. “This is Master Zhang the Grimace, one of the top three of the Jingjiu Sect.”

Fat Lin looked genuinely shocked, hustling over in quick strides. “So you’re the legendary Grimace Zhang! My humble place is honored by your presence!”

Grimace Zhang just glanced at him coldly, clearly unimpressed, and replied coolly, “Mm. That’s enough.”

Fat Lin’s face was awkward, but he forced a smile and ushered us inside.

The main hall was lavishly decorated—a red carpet on the floor, a grand Qing-dynasty rosewood table with a scrolling cloud pattern in the center, displaying a set of Republic-era porcelain vases. In front of the table were two zitan armchairs and a large beechwood Eight Immortals table with a weighing scale. Two rows of rosewood chairs lined either side—a grand display indeed.

Fat Lin gestured to Dragon King, “Master, please, take the seat of honor.”

Dragon King demurred, glancing at Grimace Zhang. “Third Brother, you first.”

Without a word of politeness, Grimace Zhang sat himself in the seat of honor and lit a cigarette, completely at ease.

Everyone else looked awkward, but Fat Lin didn’t dare complain.

“Fourth Brother, since Third Brother’s taken the main seat, you take the next one,” Dragon King said, smiling obsequiously.

Master smiled modestly, waving his hand. “Seventh Brother, no need for such formality among brothers.”

Dragon King nodded. After all, Fat Lin was his disciple, so it was only right for him to sit lower. “Well then, I, Old Seven, won’t stand on ceremony.”

Fat Lin sat beside the lower seat, engaging in small talk for quite some time. We sat off to the side, pretending to listen, while Grimace Zhang kept to himself, smoking silently.

“Lin Yang, any good finds at the market lately?” Dragon King asked, smiling.

Fat Lin sighed. “Business is tough—no resources. After you called, I barely managed to get a few hands together. No one wants to do this anymore.”

Dragon King shook his head, visibly saddened.

Just then, a servant came to Fat Lin. “Master, the banquet is ready.”

Fat Lin brightened. “No more gloomy talk—please, everyone, follow me to the dining room.”

We moved to the second hall, where a large round ebony table stood, nearly a meter across, surrounded by ten official’s chairs. The table was laden with all kinds of delicacies: roast lamb, braised fish, buttered prawns, steamed crab. At the very center, a great pot of “Northeastern Stew” simmered.

Perhaps it was yesterday’s day of compressed biscuits, but my eyes practically gleamed at the sight.

“Master Zhang, please take the seat of honor.” Fat Lin graciously deferred to Grimace Zhang.

Grimace Zhang nodded, taking the first seat, and only then did the others sit down.

Fat Lin beckoned, and a striking young woman appeared—around twenty years old, dressed fashionably, the very image of a seductive beauty from the Northeast, exuding a captivating charm.

Iron Crutch Liu instantly revived at the sight, a lecherous grin on his face. “Lin Yang, this girl…”

“Ah!” Fat Lin laughed. “Go, keep my Eighth Uncle company.”

The young woman, clearly reluctant, forced a smile and perched herself on Iron Crutch Liu’s lap. She looked as if she was only doing this because she had no choice, her expression strained and unhappy.

She was, at most, twenty, her makeup heavy but her features beautiful—one of those so-called “internet celeb” faces.

The old lecher, Iron Crutch Liu, grinned, slipping his hand beneath her tracksuit, pawing her shamelessly.

She stiffened, swallowing hard, her discomfort obvious. Closing her eyes, she glanced at Grimace Zhang, her face showing a pitiful shame, as if she couldn’t bear for him to witness her humiliation.

“Hey, Lin Yang! Got any more like her? Give me one too—your Uncle Wan can give her some lessons,” Kaleidoscope said, leering.

“Fat Lin, come here.” Grimace Zhang signaled, his voice cold.

“Yes, Master Zhang, what do you need?” Fat Lin hurried over, eager to please.