Xiangzi’s Record of Immortal Cultivation-Chapter 82: Master Liu at the City Gate

Dawn’s light crept in.
The refugee shacks buzzed with noise.
Countless refugees shuffled into long queues.
Burly cooks hauled buckets of porridge and baskets of yellow cornbread.
For some reason, today’s porridge wasn’t the usual watery slop but rich rice porridge, its aroma wafting far.
Even the cornbread was larger than yesterday’s.
The refugees’ eyes gleamed.
But food was secondary. The real prize was the lottery.
—
Forty-Nine City’s weather was fickle, like a courtesan living off patrons’ whims.
Morning brought a chill; now, the sun blazed.
At Guang’an Gate, five long tables stood in a row.
Each faced an endless queue.
Unlike the noisy shacks, the silence here was eerie.
The refugees stood mute, faces pale—many, to secure a spot, had skipped food and queued overnight.
Empty stomachs and unpredictable weather wore them down.
As the line crept forward, some collapsed. Porters rushed in, swiftly carrying them off—dead to the pits outside, living back to the shacks.
Carrying refugees was a lucrative job, each worth two coins.
Porters eyed each other like hawks, lest a rival snatch their prize.
The refugees’ gazes were glued to the bamboo lottery tubes, shaken by hands that held their fate.
A short stick brought despair, some fainting, carried off by eager porters.
A long stick sparked cheers and envy from others.
This scene had played out for days since the Buddha Light Festival.
By Marshal Zhang’s decree, the gates would close in two days.
Today’s queues were swollen.
—
Xiangzi supported Liu Tang, blending into the line.
Despite their efforts to blend in, their robust frames stood out among the gaunt refugees.
Patrolling officers’ eyes kept drifting to them.
Xiangzi eyed the long queue, anxiety rising—Liu Tang’s wounds needed city treatment today, or his foundation would be ruined.
A voice called out, “Hey, Xiang—uh, big guy, over here! This line’s faster.”
Xiangzi frowned, spotting Zhang Dachui waving enthusiastically.
Two cold stares froze Dachui’s grin.
One from the peach-blossom-eyed man beside him.
The other from Xiangzi.
Xiangzi couldn’t fathom how this thick-headed fool became a bandit leader.
What bandit acts so brazenly?
Nearby, heated gazes mixed with anger and envy fell on Xiangzi.
With no choice, to avoid trouble, he trudged over.
Dachui smirked, shoving a refugee aside. “Move! Didn’t you see my brother coming?”
Amid the commotion, the refugee turned, his anger fading at the sight of such towering men.
Why are they among us?
Xiangzi and Liu Tang squeezed into the line.
Some refugees grumbled but swallowed their complaints, cowed by their size.
The chaotic queue neatened.
The peach-blossom-eyed man stood silent, his tattered, oil-stained robe making him look like a fallen scholar.
His gaze quietly settled on Xiangzi and Liu Tang.
Sensing it, Xiangzi clasped his hands, his smile warm, almost boyishly earnest.
The man paused, unable to reconcile this big man with the one who slew a near-eighth-rank demon beast.
Xiangzi’s subtle aloofness didn’t escape this seasoned outlaw.
A playful smile curved King Chuang’s lips.
This rickshaw puller’s interesting.
—
Dachui’s threats had secured a prime spot.
Within half an hour, they neared the front.
Xiangzi lagged a few steps, keeping distance from Dachui and the peach-blossom-eyed man.
Partly to avoid suspicion, partly to see how these wanted bandits would enter Forty-Nine City.
To his surprise, the peach-blossom-eyed man whispered to a plump police chief.
The chief pulled two long sticks from the tube, handing them over without care.
Only Xiangzi’s enhanced vision caught it—two gleaming silver coins slipped from the man’s sleeve into the chief’s hand.
One coin per person—fair and square.
The chief’s practiced moves suggested he’d pocketed plenty lately.
But this wasn’t Xiangzi’s plan.
His gaze shifted to another table.
A lazy-looking middle-aged police chief, fanning himself, eyed the queue with impatience.
As if sensing something, he looked back.
Seeing Xiangzi, his expression froze.
Under the blazing sun, Master Liu squinted, irritated by the heat and his duty at the gate.
His mind was also troubled—by the Li family mining zone.
Forty-Nine City held no secrets.
Even Marshal Zhang’s new concubine, a former star of the Four Seas Gambling House, was exposed the next day.
But the mining zone affair? The police bureau was tight-lipped.
Despite decades in the bureau, Master Liu had only caught whispers—and they chilled him.
Harmony Rickshaw Yard’s pullers, all dead?
Ambushed by Ma Liu’s crew?
The Li family stepped in to crush Ma Liu’s thugs?
Master Liu was skeptical.
Ma Liu and that tiger had clashed for years—where’d he find the guts?
To act in the Li family’s zone?
His son-in-law was just a deputy chief—would even the chief himself dare?
Something felt off.
Master Liu’s slick nature warned against meddling.
But his only brother, Ah Jie, was at Harmony Rickshaw Yard.
Seeing Xiangzi, his body jolted.