A few peaceful days passed, and the mining route seemed to run as usual.

One early morning, before the sky had fully brightened, still cloaked in heavy darkness, faint rustling sounds stirred in the second-class courtyard.

The sounds were soft, betraying the caution of their maker.

Old Ma didn’t light the oil lamp. In the dark, he fumbled to pull on his clothes.

He hadn’t slept a wink all night, his mind foggy and muddled, unable to pinpoint what he was mulling over. A blink, and it was already this hour.

The snores in the communal bunk rose and fell. Old Ma slowly gathered his belongings.

Belongings, if you could call them that—just a glossy, well-worn bedroll and two sets of blue cloth shirts.

Years ago, Old Ma had bought a small courtyard on the city’s edge. But then his son died, his wife ran off, and the place naturally fell empty.

Resolute, Old Ma pawned the courtyard, scraped together some silver, and sent his young grandson to train as an apprentice at the martial hall.

Thanks to Fourth Master Liu’s kindness, Old Ma had been sleeping in the second-class courtyard these past two years, earning enough from pulling ore to barely support his grandson.

But that day, Master Hu spoke: Old Ma was to leave.

Today was the final day, and Old Ma dared not delay.

Yet, all of a sudden, he realized he had nowhere to go.

In the vast Forty-Nine City, he no longer had a home.

Master Hu, in his mercy, said Old Ma could work as a third-class rickshaw puller.

But the meager coins a third-class puller earned, after paying the daily share to the yard, wouldn’t cover his grandson’s expenses at the martial hall.

Being an apprentice there was like pouring silver into a rushing stream.

What’s more, Old Ma had no face to stay at the rickshaw yard any longer.

With a soft sigh, Old Ma gently closed the door, hoisting the bedroll onto his shoulder.

Gazing at the pitch-black sky, he hadn’t taken two steps when he spotted a familiar figure at the courtyard gate.

“Master Xiang, may you prosper,” Old Ma said, recognizing the slightly youthful face.

Xiangzi was silent for a moment, then reached into his pocket and pulled out five silver coins, handing them over. “Old Ma, you’re likely short on cash. Once you leave this courtyard, you’ll have no place to stay. Take these coins for now.”

Old Ma froze, wanting to refuse, but his calloused hands betrayed him, trembling as they accepted the coins.

The heavy silver weighed down his hands, making them shake.

It was a while before Old Ma came to his senses, his weathered face flushing red. After a long pause, he managed to choke out, “Master Xiang, I owe you a debt as vast as the heavens.”

Xiangzi said nothing, only waved a hand and turned to leave.

Old Ma stared at the retreating figure, his heart a tangle of indescribable feelings.

He remembered clearly: when Xiangzi first arrived at the second-class courtyard, Old Ma had only given him half a bunk.

It wasn’t out of some grand sense of loyalty—just that he couldn’t stand seeing a big guy like Xiangzi bullied by Skinny Monkey and his lot.

Besides, Xiangzi’s age and build reminded Old Ma of his own son, Little Ma, who had passed too soon.

Who would’ve thought that small, thoughtless act would become his lifeline now?

Suddenly, as if recalling something, Old Ma hurriedly called out, “Master Xiang, if it’s not a bother, there’s something I’d like to tell you.”

Xiangzi turned, a smile on his face, assuming Old Ma was about to ask for another favor.

But Old Ma lowered his voice and said, “Master Xiang, I’m speaking out of turn today, but you’d best watch out for Jin Fugui and Skinny Monkey’s crew.”

Xiangzi’s eyes narrowed slightly, signaling Old Ma to go on.

Old Ma weighed the silver coins in his hand, then gritted his teeth and whispered even lower, “These past few days, I’ve noticed Skinny Monkey sneaking out often, muttering with Jin Fugui in secret.”

“I’m old and my eyes are dim, so I didn’t dare pry too much, but I faintly heard they’re plotting against you!”

In the dim morning light, Xiangzi’s face showed no joy or anger. He only patted Old Ma’s shoulder lightly and said, “Old Ma, thanks for your trouble. I’ll keep this in mind. If you face hardship later, come find me.”

Old Ma let out an “Aye,” but couldn’t help glancing back at the second-class courtyard. Unknowingly, he’d spent over a decade here.

Without another word, Old Ma lowered his head and walked away.

Xiangzi watched the figure slowly swallowed by the night, his brows rising like unsheathed blades.

Jin Fugui and Skinny Monkey?

Old Ma left, slipping away without a sound.

But for the second-class pullers at Harmony Rickshaw Yard, life went on, and the ore still needed hauling.

In the blink of an eye, another month passed.

During this time, Master Tang only showed his face occasionally, and Liu Hu was nowhere to be seen.

Thankfully, Uncle Jie, the seasoned hand, kept things steady, sparing Xiangzi much worry.

Since Old Ma’s warning, Xiangzi had kept his eyes sharp.

Yet Jin Fugui and Skinny Monkey seemed like changed men, diligent and faultless in carrying out Xiangzi’s orders.

But it was this very normalcy that made Xiangzi smell something off.

Of course, what truly unsettled Xiangzi was another matter—for a whole month, he hadn’t spotted anything amiss on the mining route.

The ore delivered daily to the embassy district remained steady at around two hundred baskets, no different from past records.

Whether it was the output from the Li Family Mine or the intake at the rickshaw yard, everything checked out perfectly.

Fourth Master Liu hadn’t made Xiangzi the yard leader just to guard the mining route.

If Xiangzi couldn’t uncover the secrets behind it, his time as yard leader might be up.

This month, as usual, Xiangzi went to the front courtyard every night to settle accounts.

Though Fourth Master Liu hadn’t said anything outright, Xiangzi could feel the growing coldness in his demeanor. He knew Liu’s patience was wearing thin.

At the very least, this month, Liu hadn’t spared a single packet of vitality soup for Xiangzi.

But what Xiangzi didn’t know was that someone was even more anxious than him.

That night, under a clear moon and sparse stars, Forty-Nine City enjoyed a rare, pristine night sky.

In South City, at Chongnan Lane, in an unremarkable little tavern, two men sat across from each other. On the table were a few bottles of Lotus White liquor.

Aside from that, only a few small dishes of peanuts and the like—meager fare for men of their status.

Tonight, they weren’t here to drink.

After downing another bottle of Lotus White, Jin Fugui couldn’t hold back any longer. He slammed his cup down and said in a muffled voice, “Master Hu, Xiangzi’s been yard leader for a month, and our business has been stalled for a month!”

Liu Hu, clad in his usual black silk shirt, frowned at the words.

“Master Hu, I, Fugui, have followed you for years, never shying from trouble. Just give the word, and I’ll handle it!”

Seeing Liu Hu stay silent, Jin Fugui grew more urgent. “If we keep dragging this out, it’ll be hard to answer to them!”

Those words finally stirred Liu Hu. Be it business or ore, in this world, Liu Hu valued steady, long-term gains.

But the man from Ma Liu Rickshaw Yard was not someone to be trifled with!

Liu Hu tapped his finger lightly on the table, mulling it over for a long time before saying slowly, “Fugui, what’s your plan? Are you absolutely sure?”

Finally hearing this, a flash of ruthlessness crossed Jin Fugui’s face. “Master Hu, rest easy. I’ll take full responsibility. If I mess this up, it won’t cause you any trouble.”

Liu Hu was pleased with this answer and said no more, only pulling a few silver dollars from his pocket and lining them up on the table.

As he left, Liu Hu paused. “Fugui, how’s your daughter’s illness?”

Jin Fugui’s tall frame trembled slightly, and he replied softly, “Thank you for your concern, Master Hu. You know her condition—it’s just a matter of holding on a bit longer.”

Liu Hu nodded, glancing back at Fugui with a softer tone. “Fugui, you’ve passed the vitality gate. By rights, you should be the yard leader.”

“Handle this Xiangzi business, and you’ll naturally take his place. Then, you can remarry.”

“You’re a martial man; you need a son.”

“Aye,” Jin Fugui replied, lowering his head. “Master Hu speaks true.”