Prodded by his daughter, Fourth Master Liu tucked his hands into his sleeves, chuckling awkwardly.

No trace of the fearsome “Tiger Liu” remained.

Truth be told, Fourth Master Liu was a bit intimidated by his daughter.

Over the years, he’d handled the yard’s external affairs while Girl Hu managed the internal ones, keeping everything in perfect order.

Until she’d grown into an old maid.

As the saying went, men marry when grown, women wed when of age. Fourth Master Liu understood this.

Though Girl Hu had a mannish air and coarse manners, with his connections and wealth, finding her a match or a son-in-law to join the family wasn’t hard.

But he couldn’t bear to let her go.

Girl Hu was too capable. If she married, who’d handle the books? The first-class pullers’ yard? The embassy district connections?

He couldn’t trust those critical tasks to anyone else.

The embassy district accounts were his foundation in South City.

Without Girl Hu, illiterate as he was, he’d be left staring blankly.

This selfish streak made him feel guilty toward his daughter, so he indulged her every whim.

But Girl Hu was right.

He’d long been ready for Ma Liu’s move.

Ma Liu had always coveted Harmony’s ore route, just as he’d eyed their martial hall delivery lines.

South City had been stagnant for years, each yard with its routes and backers, maintaining a delicate balance for over a decade.

It had become an unspoken rule.

Now Ma Liu had broken it.

And so, Fourth Master Liu—Tiger Liu—would show no mercy.

His eyes narrowed, his pipe tapping the table, sparks from the tobacco flaring up, illuminating his flickering smile.

But catching Xiangzi’s figure nearing the courtyard’s edge, his brows knotted.

A street tough by origin, he knew how to handle the poor—when to tighten the reins, when to loosen them.

For the clever ones, toss a few coppers as bait, like dangling a carrot before a donkey, and they’d run eagerly.

For the lazy, yank the leash until they broke, then toss a cornbread to win loyalty and a “benevolent” reputation.

In his years on Qingfeng Street, this tactic never failed.

But with Xiangzi, he couldn’t quite get a read.

Everyone called Xiangzi a “big fool,” and Fourth Master Liu had thought so too.

Tall and sturdy, Xiangzi was bullied by the second-class pullers and never asked for pay when tallying the books.

In this dog-eat-dog world, wasn’t that foolish?

But was Xiangzi truly a fool?

Fifty silver dollars gleaming before him, plus the promise of a first-class puller’s future—most would’ve gone mad with joy.

Yet this “big fool” didn’t blink, coming straight back to spill everything, all for a chance to learn martial arts.

That’s no fool. That’s a man with a scale in his heart, weighing what matters.

“Hu, what’s Xiangzi’s game?” Fourth Master Liu puffed his pipe, asking slowly.

Girl Hu glanced outside, smacking her lips impatiently. “Old man, he’s just a puller. Why waste your brain on him? Focus on crushing Ma Liu!”

Fourth Master Liu chuckled silently.

She was right—just a puller. What waves could he make?

Dawn’s light crept in.

At the third quarter of the Mao hour, Forty-Nine City’s gates creaked open.

In the second-class pullers’ yard, snores rose and fell.

By yard rules, second-class pullers had to leave at first light to haul ore back before sunset.

The roads outside were chaotic and unsafe.

But with little oversight, the pullers had grown lazy over time.

Today was different.

As dawn broke, a kick slammed the dormitory’s kang, the sound of a boot on wood exploding like a thunderclap.

The pullers jolted awake, faces burning with anger.

But seeing the man, their fury turned to fawning smiles.

A lean, middle-aged man in a short tunic stood at the door.

Hands on hips, a half-smoked Hardmen cigarette dangling from his lips, he smirked faintly.

“Master Hu… what brings you here?”

“Blessings to Master Hu!”

Amid the chorus of greetings, the man stubbed out his cigarette, cursing with a grin, “Enough sweet talk! Shake off your lazy bones—today, I’m personally escorting the ore route!”

The pullers froze, scrambling off the kang.

The man was Liu Hu, in his thirties, one of Fourth Master Liu’s foster sons, in charge of the second-class pullers’ ore route.

The route was routine, and with Liu Hu’s status, why would he bother escorting it himself?

Some pullers’ hearts sank.

Could the ore counts have raised Fourth Master’s suspicions, prompting Liu Hu’s presence?

Those who’d been skimming ore broke into cold sweats.

Jin Fugui’s eyelids twitched, his nails digging into his palms.

Liu Hu’s gaze swept over, landing on Xiangzi. “Xiangzi, Liu Tang’s waiting outside.”

He cupped his hands, smiling. “Congratulations, Xiangzi. Fourth Master’s taken a shine to you, naming you a guard.”

The second-class yard erupted.

Xiangzi, a guard in the east building?

The pullers exchanged glances—some with envy, others with jealousy, most in disbelief.

This big fool, now a respectable man eating braised pork in the east building?

Xiangzi clasped his fists. “Master Hu, thanks for your care all this time. I’m deeply grateful.”

Liu Hu’s smile widened. “Small matter. Don’t forget us old brothers when you make it big.”

“Master Hu, you’re too kind. With your status, I’ll be relying on you still,” Xiangzi said, bowing.

Liu Hu nodded, chuckling, and patted Xiangzi’s shoulder.

Given Liu Hu’s status, it was playful banter, but the warmth in his words was clear to everyone.

Master Hu giving Xiangzi face?

Who was Master Hu?

The acknowledged leader of the four foster sons, holding the yard’s vital ore route, a man who looked only to the heavens.

Even Liu Tang, the guard leader, called him “Brother Hu.”

For someone of his stature to treat Xiangzi so warmly?

Liu Hu was proud, no doubt, but no fool. You didn’t rise in South City without cunning.

A guard was nothing special.

But one handpicked by Fourth Master Liu? That was different.

Plus, Xiangzi handled the books.

Even a proud man like Liu Hu had to show respect.

That respect wasn’t for Xiangzi—it was for Fourth Master Liu.