Martial Dao: Peace by Force

Chapter 153: Chapter 122: Another Dragon Eagle Transmission! A High-Tier Technique is Accomplished

"Ah Ze, I knew I’d find you here. You’re always at the training hall."

Wan Ze chuckled, grabbing a clean towel to wipe away his sweat. "What’s up?"

Zhai Jia leaned back into the shadows of the covered walkway, glanced around, and then lowered his voice. "I got a tip about a group of people over in Guandong. Their description... sounds a lot like that crew you fought at Lingyun Manor."

Wan Ze’s hand paused mid-wipe.

"I’m still waiting for more specific intel," Zhai Jia continued. "If it’s a match, I’ll head over there myself..."

"That won’t be necessary," Wan Ze cut him off.

Zhai Jia froze. "...It won’t be necessary?"

He stared at Wan Ze, a hint of surprise in his eyes, before it dawned on him. "You... you already know who they are, don’t you?"

Wan Ze was silent for two seconds.

He draped the towel over his shoulder and met his friend’s eyes. "Zhai Jia, drop the investigation."

Zhai Jia said nothing.

Seeing his friend’s silence, Wan Ze smiled and gave his shoulder a light punch. "It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s just... this business runs deep. Too deep. It’s not safe for you to keep digging. This crew is connected to the incident in Hua City."

Zhai Jia stared at him for a few seconds.

Then he took the cigarette from his mouth and twirled it between his fingers.

"Fine."

He agreed readily.

"If you don’t want me to investigate, I won’t."

Zhai Jia stuck the cigarette back in his mouth and mumbled, "As long as you know what you’re doing. But we have a deal. Next time, don’t just leave me to clean up the aftermath. Your big bro here wants to get his blood pumping too, you know."

Wan Ze shook his head, a helpless smile on his face, and quickly agreed.

Zhai Jia was about to leave, but he paused as if he’d just remembered something. "By the way, let me ask you something."

"Shoot," Wan Ze replied.

"Tie Qingyang from Tie Shizhe... You know him, don’t you?" Zhai Jia asked, watching him closely.

Wan Ze didn’t answer right away. "Why are you suddenly asking about this?"

Seeing his reaction, Zhai Jia gave a resigned wave of his hand. "Alright, alright, I won’t ask about your connection..."

’Situ Bai really doesn’t like his disciples getting mixed up with gangs.’

’So he could understand why Wan Ze was being quiet.’

"I heard... he’s run into some trouble recently."

"Trouble?" Wan Ze repeated, taken aback.

"I didn’t pry for details. Something about a turf war over one of the docks. Apparently, the other side had powerful backing, and his crew took a bad loss. With these kinds of underworld affairs, it’s best for outsiders like us to stay out of it."

Zhai Jia looked at Wan Ze, his tone a deliberate warning. "Underworld business should be settled by the underworld. You’re not one of his people, so there’s no reason to get dragged into this mess... Besides, we’re backed by Dragon Eagle. Plenty of people would love to use our Master’s name for their own ends. You just need to handle that carefully."

Wan Ze nodded and smiled. "I know."

Zhai Jia made a little more small talk, then ambled off, the unlit cigarette still dangling from his lips.

Wan Ze stood in the rear courtyard, watching his friend’s back disappear through the doorway.

Then he took out his communicator.

He found Tie Qingyang’s number and dialed.

BEEP... BEEP... BEEP...

Wan Ze stared at the message on the screen—"Call Failed"—and his brows furrowed slightly.

He dialed again.

Still no answer.

Wan Ze stood motionless, silent.

’He knew all about Tie Qingyang’s reputation...’

’In the underworld, some said Tie Qingyang was ruthless, others said he was a man of his word, but most agreed he was as cunning as an old fox.’

’But Wan Ze didn’t care about any of that.’

’What he cared about was something else entirely.’

’He cared about the man who had readily laid five Martial Skills before him without asking for a penny in return... the man who had thumped his own chest and said, "If you ever need anything, little brother, just ask"... the man who, knowing he was in deep trouble, would bite his tongue and refuse to ask for help.’

’Now, Brother Tie was in trouble.’

’And when a friend needed help, you had to act decisively.’

’Just stand by and watch?’

’He, Wan Ze... could not do that!’

He turned.

Wan Ze pushed open the door to his room.

The wooden door let out a CREAK.

On the horizon, dusk was burning away the last of the afterglow, pulling the streets and alleys into a shroud of ashen twilight.

Wan Ze stepped over the threshold, sword in hand.

He didn’t look back.

He rounded the corner, and his figure was instantly swallowed by the night.

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