Xiangzi’s Record of Immortal Cultivation-Chapter 59: Meeting Old Ma Again

Leaving Deyun Tower, Liu Tang hailed two rickshaws to escort Lin Junqing back to the martial hall.
Xiangzi and Uncle Jie chose to walk back to South City.
Along the way, Xiangzi’s mood was heavy, his mind circling the Third Miss’s words.
Why did Jin Fugui swallow the prismatic ore?
Having worked the mines for years, he knew the dangers of “ore miasma.”
Why seek death?
And it happened the very night Xiangzi felled him with a punch.
Something must have driven him to desperation.
The only benefit of ore miasma was a temporary boost to skin, muscle, and bone—at the cost of life.
What pushed Jin Fugui to such an end, to burn everything down?
Thinking of recent mine troubles, Xiangzi’s unease grew, a name surfacing—
Ma Liu!
Jin Fugui and Skinny Monkey must have long been tied to Ma Liu Rickshaw Yard.
The deficits in Harmony Rickshaw Yard’s mine ledgers likely traced back to them.
A realization struck Xiangzi—
murder to silence witnesses?
Yes.
Bringing back Fat Four’s body was a problem for Ma Liu. To cover it before the Marshal’s Mansion and Police Bureau, they’d need to eliminate all who knew.
That left Jin Fugui and Skinny Monkey.
Skinny Monkey was already gone.
Jin Fugui, the last loose end, faced a predictable fate.
That must be the truth.
Xiangzi sighed softly. Jin Fugui, cunning his whole life, fell to greed.
Now, having swallowed the prismatic ore and contracted ore miasma, even if he escaped capture, he’d live only days.
A dark weight settled in Xiangzi’s heart.
He should’ve been glad Jin Fugui was gone.
But picturing the man kneeling in the rain, still dreaming of avenging his brother, Xiangzi felt a tangle of emotions.
Jin Fugui was sly and ruthless, his fate deserved, yet Xiangzi felt no hatred.
In the end, aren’t I just another Jin Fugui?
Compared to South City, East City was smaller. Xiangzi and Uncle Jie reached Chongwen Gate in under two hours.
Built during the Great Shun Dynasty’s founding, the gate’s walls bore centuries of moss and weathered marks.
Chongwen Gate linked Central and East Cities. Central City, near the embassy district, housed clerks serving noble families, the wealthiest in Forty-Nine City.
Thus, Renshou Avenue before Chongwen Gate was East City’s liveliest stretch.
Shops lined the street, but the gambling dens were staggering—traditional games like pai gow, dice, and mahjong, alongside newer poker houses.
The grandest was Four Seas Casino, right before Xiangzi.
Roman pillars held a three-story lintel, gilded patterns gleaming in the dusk, brass lion-head door knockers shining.
Though not yet dark, neon lights glowed, reflecting off the gilded sign, exuding opulence.
Only the prominent entered.
Xiangzi, staring at the casino—eerily like one from his past life’s TV dramas—felt a flicker of disorientation.
“What’s up, Xiangzi? Itchy to try your luck?” Uncle Jie teased. “Don’t mind me saying, Four Seas is a money pit. No matter how many silver dollars you’ve got, they’ll bleed you dry.”
Like a nagging elder, Uncle Jie feared Xiangzi straying.
Xiangzi chuckled, looking away. “Not my thing, Uncle Jie.”
His gaze caught on something—
In the shadow of a stone lion at the casino’s entrance squatted a few rickshaw pullers.
One, an old puller in a melon cap, gray hair and stubbled chin, wore a greasy, shiny robe.
“Old Ma?” Xiangzi called tentatively.
The old puller froze, pushed up his cap, and, seeing Xiangzi, looked uneasy.
“Greetings, Lord Xiang! Heading to South City? Let Old Ma pull you!”
Old Ma hurried over, gripping his rickshaw.
Perhaps due to age, he bumped another rickshaw, leaving a faint scratch on its polished paint.
“Hey, old man, got eyes or not?” A horse-faced man leapt up, pointing at Old Ma’s nose.
“Sorry, sir, please forgive an old man’s clumsiness,” Old Ma said, smiling awkwardly.
“Damn you, outsider! Know the rules? Four Seas Casino’s no place for you!”
As the horse-faced man snapped, other pullers crowded around, all wearing robes embroidered with “Debao.”
Debao Rickshaw Yard, smaller than Harmony and excluded from mine work, usually kept peace with them.
South City yards had their territories, and Four Seas was Debao’s turf.
Clearly, these Debao pullers had long resented Old Ma for poaching fares and seized this chance.
Bullying a lone, unsupported puller—especially an old one—was nothing new in this trade.
As the horse-faced man raised his fist, Xiangzi grabbed his wrist, sending a numbing jolt.
The man turned, startled by Xiangzi’s dark, youthful face.
Such strength!
Xiangzi released him, smiling. “Brother, we’re all scraping by. Why make it hard?”
The man grimaced, shaking his hand. Before he could speak, other Debao pullers rushed forward. “Who’s this meddling dog?”
Xiangzi’s eyes narrowed, shoulders sinking. Without visible effort, he sent the fist-swinging pullers flying.
Uncle Jie, watching, was stunned.
This kid’s faster than usual.
The Debao pullers sprawled, the horse-faced man retreating, shouting, “This is Debao’s turf! He’s a lone puller—why stick your neck out?”
Xiangzi’s face hardened, stepping forward, his gaze chilling the man into silence.
“Who says he’s alone?”
“He’s with Harmony Rickshaw Yard!”
At “Harmony Rickshaw Yard,” the horse-faced man froze—a major yard with a Great Shun gold-thread banner, trusted with mine work.
“You say so? Who are you?” another puller, rubbing his chest, barked defiantly.
Xiangzi, unbothered, waved Old Ma over, saying softly, “If you’re not convinced, come to Harmony Rickshaw Yard and find me.”
“I’m Xiangzi.”
The name puzzled the pullers at first, some considering calling reinforcements.
But the horse-faced man shuddered.
Xiangzi?
Isn’t that Harmony’s new cart leader? The one who stood up to Ma Liu’s Fat Lord and felled Fat Four with a spear?
His exploits had spread through Forty-Nine City’s yards.
Damn, I just bullied an old man and crossed this killer!