Xiangzi’s Record of Immortal Cultivation-Chapter 62: The Cold Sewers

In East City, the sun dipped, dusk settling.
Humming a tune, hands tucked in his sleeves, Xu Bin planned to catch a film at the cinema, then dominate Four Seas Casino at night.
A lackey offered white flower cakes from Wenmei Studio, but Xu Bin waved them to his men.
He was in high spirits.
A perceptive underling asked, “Young Master, that Lord Xiang’s young, just a cart leader. What’s so special he gets your respect?”
Xu Bin smirked, silent—
these fools who judge by appearances don’t get my plans.
Just a cart leader?
Easy to say.
What eighteen-year-old cart leader existed in Forty-Nine City?
Liu Hu, sharp-eyed, wouldn’t place a nobody in such a key role.
Recent rumors had swept the city—beyond the yards, Xiangzi’s name was in Police Bureau and Marshal’s Mansion files.
As Debao’s young master, Xu Bin knew more.
Dispersing refugees, spearing Fat Four, even tales of storming a bandit camp alone.
Each deed more shocking than the last.
And word was, he broke the Blood Energy Barrier in just three months—and held his own against Liu Tang.
Liu Tang, Baolin’s outer disciple, was the yards’ top fighter. Even Ma Liu feared him.
Xu Bin sighed—
Liu Hu’s lucky, with Liu Tang and now this fierce kid.
If Liu Hu spent big to get Xiangzi bone-setting broth at a martial hall, and if he endured its potency, Harmony could boast two ranked warriors.
How could I not befriend such a man early?
Wait till he’s a ranked warrior to cozy up?
No one values latecomers—Xu Bin learned young to “build ties early, bank favors.”
Debao, without strong backing, survived in Forty-Nine City by navigating all sides.
Though his outreach was calculated, Xiangzi’s response surprised him.
Expecting a brash brute, he found a cautious, savvy man.
Such poise at his age, just a cart leader?
Shame he’s not with Debao.
Looking at his dim-witted, fawning men, Xu Bin sighed.
A potential conflict resolved unexpectedly.
It boiled down to strength.
If Xiangzi were still a third-tier puller on a shared bunk, would Xu Bin glance his way?
Now, though no prodigy, at eighteen, Xiangzi held Harmony’s cart leader post and broke the Blood Energy Barrier in months—a rising star in the yards’ small world.
But Xiangzi knew he was far from enough.
This world had plenty who flattered the strong but kicked the fallen.
Xu Bin’s praise didn’t inflate him; instead, unease gnawed—
how did my deeds spread city-wide in days?
Someone’s fanning the flames. Who? Why?
A dark mood crept over him.
At Harmony Rickshaw Yard’s gate, Wen San was peeking around.
Seeing Xiangzi, he jogged over. “Hey, Xiangzi, heard about last night?”
Xiangzi blinked. “What?”
Wen San clicked his tongue. “Jin Fugui! I got the full story!”
Xiangzi’s heart tightened at the name.
“Poor guy, his whole family burned to ash last night.”
“That fool had guts, hiding a prismatic ore and taking on ore miasma. Now the city’s hunting him.”
Xiangzi frowned, urging Wen San on.
“I bet it’s tied to Ma Liu!” Wen San said firmly.
“Why?” Xiangzi asked.
Wen San leaned in, secretive. “Fat Yong said—his brother’s a deputy at the Police Bureau.”
“His brother said, besides Jin Fugui’s wife and kid, three men’s bodies were found burned at his place.”
Glancing around, he whispered, “Word is… they were Fat Lord’s men!”
Xiangzi’s eyes flashed, his heart sinking—
Ma Liu silencing witnesses.
“Did they catch Jin Fugui?” he asked, voice low.
Wen San lit up. “Weird thing—the Bureau searched all day and couldn’t find him!”
“But with that ore, he won’t last long.”
Pausing, he looked at Xiangzi earnestly. “Be careful, Xiangzi. He might come for you.”
Xiangzi nodded, patting Wen San’s shoulder. “Thanks for the heads-up, Third Brother.”
“Third Brother” made Wen San beam, thumping his chest. “Don’t worry, Xiangzi. With me here, no one touches you.”
“I’d risk my life to keep you safe.”
Xiangzi, amused, handed over packed beef and elbow.
Wen San, grinning, took it back to the second-tier yard, ready to brag—
See this? From my brother Xiangzi.
For now, that aside.
In South City, on Baiyun Street, dusk bled red.
Ma Liu Rickshaw Yard’s gates were shut, but the entrance buzzed.
Last night’s deaths drew repeated Police Bureau visits.
The Bureau alone was no issue—Ma Liu, backed by a deputy chief’s son-in-law, feared little.
But when Marshal’s Mansion agents came, Ma Liu panicked, soaking in cold water all night to fake illness, dumping blame on the troublemaking Fat Lord.
A few deaths were nothing in South City.
Just a puller’s family wiped out.
But a prismatic ore was involved—a warrior with ore miasma in Forty-Nine City?
Unthinkable.
Ma Liu Rickshaw Yard was in chaos.
Unnoticed, a pair of blood-red eyes blinked, tinged with dull gold.
Jin Fugui, curled in a cold, filthy sewer, stared through a brick gap at Ma Liu’s gilded red sign.
A sharpened iron rod lay beside him.
His trusted short spear had snapped that rainy night.
Now, only this cold rod would join his revenge.