Courtyard House: Initial Donation of 50 Million

Spring of the 21st year of the Guangxu Emperor's reign (1895), Foshan, Guangdong.

Before the distorted feeling of space had completely dissipated, a complex and intense odor assaulted Wang Huanbo's nostrils—the salty, fishy smell of the Pearl River, the damp earth, the sour, rotten smell of sweat, the cloying sweetness of cheap cosmetics, and the faint, unpleasantly sweet scent of opium paste. Immediately following, a cacophony of sounds flooded his ears: the incessant Cantonese shouts of vendors, the muffled chants of laborers at the distant docks, the clatter of wooden clogs on the cobblestones, the strained Cantonese opera drifting from teahouses, interspersed with occasional stuttering pidgin English and the low rumble of ship horns.

Wang Huanbo opened his eyes, quickly and warily scanning his surroundings. He was standing beside a narrow, damp street, flanked by dilapidated arcade buildings with faded signs advertising "raw herbs," "herbal tea," and "pawnbroking." Pedestrians thronged the area; most men had long or short braids trailing behind their heads, their faces dark, their expressions either numb or hurried; the women mostly wore coarse cloth, their bound feet causing them to shuffle about. Occasionally, a respectable person in a silk gown, fanning themselves with a folding fan, would pass by, a hint of superiority in their eyes; more conspicuous were several foreigners wearing top hats and Western-style shirts, their expressions haughty, riding bicycles or sitting in rickshaws, their gazes a mixture of curiosity and contempt as they surveyed everything around them. An indescribable sense of oppression permeated the air, an atmosphere of decay and distorted prosperity, the unique stagnation and restlessness of a dying dynasty.

"This is Foshan in the late Qing Dynasty..." Wang Huanbo thought with a chill. Although he had some understanding from film and television works, being personally placed in this historical scene was far more impactful than any video could provide. He wore a dark blue silk robe provided by the system, cloth shoes with multiple layers of soles, and a fake braid at the back of his head that barely matched the characteristics of the era. The rattan box in his hand contained a small amount of silver and a change of clothes, while his real "belongings" were safely stored in the 10000 cubic meter system space.

"Current task: Integrate into the local community and find 'Po Chi Lam' and Wong Fei-hung." The system notification sounded at the right time.

Wang Huanbo composed himself and, relying on the [Language Proficiency - Cantonese] granted by the system, approached an old man selling herbal tea on the street and asked in a humble tone, "Uncle, excuse me, could you tell me how to get to Po Chi Lam Medical Clinic?"

The old man looked up and saw that the person asking for directions had a calm demeanor and was well-dressed (the physique and mental state subtly improved by the super serum gave him an aura). He then enthusiastically pointed out, "Young man, are you going to Po Chi Lam to find Master Wong? Go straight along this road, turn right at the third intersection, and Ren'an Lane is it. Master Wong's medical and martial arts skills are in this place in Foshan!" The old man gave a thumbs up, then lowered his voice, "However, young man, things haven't been very peaceful there lately. Those scoundrels from the Shahe Gang are always causing trouble there, so be careful."

"Thank you for the pointers, sir," Wang Huanbo said, understanding dawning on him that the plot had begun. The Shahe Gang's provocation was the very start of the movie.

He didn't immediately head to Baozhilin, but instead strolled leisurely through the streets, seemingly wandering aimlessly, but actually carefully observing this famous late Qing Dynasty city. At the docks, the towering smokestacks of foreign cargo ships billowed black smoke, and laborers chanted as they unloaded wooden crates bearing unfamiliar foreign writings from the ships, while foremen shouted orders from the sidelines, whips in hand. A strange, sweet aroma wafted from the entrances of roadside opium dens, and those entering and leaving were pale-faced and their eyes numb. Inside teahouses, some people passionately discussed "reform" and "revolution," while others marveled at imported glassware and matches. A sense of impending doom and heavy oppression intertwined. What Wang Huanbo sensed was not merely the clamor of the marketplace, but also the struggles and growing pains of this ancient empire amidst the great changes of the times.

As evening fell, the setting sun cast a blood-red hue over the gray streets. Wang Huanbo arrived at Ren'an Lane following the address. The signboard of Baozhilin Clinic, with its black background and gold lettering, was quite eye-catching, but a crowd had gathered at the entrance, emanating a cacophony of shouts and curses.

"Wong Fei-hung! Your medicines are killing people! Pay up!"

"Quack doctors kill people! They demolished his sign!"

"If you don't pay compensation, you won't be allowed to open your stall today!"

Wang Huanbo squeezed through the crowd and saw inside the clinic, seven or eight burly men with fierce faces were shouting at a man in a white short-sleeved shirt, well-proportioned, and exuding a calm and righteous aura. That man was none other than Wong Fei-hung! His face was calm, but his eyes were sharp. Behind him, a tall, honest-looking man (Pork Wing) glared angrily, his fists clenched; a somewhat frail-looking young man with round glasses (Toothless So) looked nervous; and a clever, lively young man (Leung Foon) was eager to join the fray. On the ground lay a "corpse" covered with a white sheet, next to which a woman was wailing and pounding her thigh: "My son! You died so tragically! It was only because you took those Po Chi Lam medicines that you're not dead!"

Wong Fei-hung spoke in a calm and steady voice, "Gentlemen, your son suffers from internal heat and poisoning, and his condition is critical. I have done my best to treat him. All the medications used were appropriate and there are absolutely no problems with them. You say there's a problem with the medicine? What proof do you have? If you still disagree, you can always call the authorities for an autopsy!"

"Report to the authorities? The word 'authorities' has two mouths! Who doesn't know that you, Wong Fei-hung, have connections with the yamen?" The leader, a scarred man, sneered arrogantly. "Don't give me that nonsense! Give me the money! Five hundred taels of silver! Not a penny less! If you don't agree, we'll tear down your Po Chi Lam today!"

The atmosphere was tense, and it looked like a fight was about to break out. Wang Huanbo knew that his time to intervene had come. He stepped forward from the crowd, walked between the two sides, and said in clear and calm Cantonese, "Gentlemen, let's talk things out. Fighting won't solve anything."

Immediately, everyone's attention was focused on this stranger who had suddenly appeared.

A flicker of doubt crossed Wong Fei-hung's eyes; he didn't recognize this man. Scarface glared menacingly, shouting, "Who's got a hole in their pants and wandered out here like this? What's it to you? Get lost!"

Wang Huanbo remained unperturbed, ignoring the scarred man, and walked straight to the wailing woman. He bowed slightly, his tone gentle yet carrying an undeniable authority: "Sister-in-law, the dead cannot be brought back to life. Please accept my condolences. If the medication was indeed erroneous, the truth must be uncovered so your son can rest in peace. Could you please let me see the details?"

The woman's crying stopped abruptly, her eyes flickering with panic. Seeing this, Scarface immediately roared, "What are you looking at! What's so interesting about someone dead! Are you in cahoots with Wong Fei-hung? Trying to destroy the evidence?"

Wang Huanbo ignored him and, before anyone could react, suddenly struck—his speed leaving only a blur! The enhanced nerve reflexes and speed from the [Super Soldier Serum] were far beyond the reach of these thugs. He swiftly lifted a corner of the white cloth, his fingers precisely placing themselves on the "deceased's" carotid artery!

There was a faint pulse! Though extremely subtle, it was definitely there!

"He's not dead! He's just unconscious and has stopped breathing! There's still hope!" Wang Huanbo looked up, his voice clearly echoing throughout the entire clinic entrance!

"What?!"

"Not dead?"

The crowd erupted in uproar! Upon hearing this, Wong Fei-hung strode forward, reached out to take the pulse, and indeed felt that faint, almost imperceptible beat! He had been preoccupied with the group's harassment and hadn't had a chance to examine the "corpse" properly!

"Impossible! My son is clearly not breathing!" the woman screamed, her face turning deathly pale.

Scarface, enraged that his plot had been exposed, roared, "Damn it! How dare you ruin my plans! Brothers, let's go! Beat him up too!" With that, he swung his fist, as big as a bowl, and smashed it towards Wang Huanbo's face with a whooshing sound!

"Watch out!" Wong Fei-hung warned.

Wang Huanbo neither dodged nor evaded. With a seemingly casual raise of his left hand, he precisely parried the opponent's wrist. Then, with his right index and middle fingers joined together, he struck a spot on the scarred man's ribs like lightning! The movement was concise and sharp, conforming to the acupoint striking techniques of this era, but its speed and power far exceeded ordinary people's imagination!

Scarface let out a muffled groan, feeling a numbness and tingling in half his body, his blood and qi stagnating, and he froze on the spot, unable to move! Seeing this, the other thugs roared and rushed forward. Pork Wing and Liang Kuan, who had been holding back their anger for a long time, immediately roared and charged forward. Toothpick Su also mustered his courage, grabbed a feather duster from the side, and joined the fray.

Wang Huanbo moved with incredible speed, weaving through the crowd like a fish, his moves as swift as the wind! Whether seizing joints, striking pressure points, or simply parrying and counterattacking, every move was precise, swift, and effective, yet controlled within the realm of a "martial arts master," not "inhuman." He intentionally concealed his true abilities, refraining from using any fighting techniques beyond his time, but the fundamental attributes granted by the [Super Soldier Serum] already gave him a significant advantage. In an instant, two more thugs were either knocked down or thrown to the ground by him.

Huang Feihong did not immediately make a move, but instead observed Wang Huanbo with sharp eyes. This young man's skills were extraordinary! His movements were fast, accurate, and ruthless, his strength was contained and his control was exquisite. He had obviously received the true teachings of a master, and... he also had a unique composure, as if he had been through many battles.

In a matter of moments, the battle was over. Seven or eight thugs were all lying on the ground, groaning in pain. The disciples of Baozhilin looked at Wang Huanbo with eyes full of surprise, admiration, and curiosity.

Wang Huanbo restrained the scarred man and asked coldly, "Speak! Who sent you to frame Master Huang? What's your background?"

Scarface, writhing in pain and seeing his comrades wiped out, could only confess with a mournful face: "It was...it was Chief Zhao of the Shahe Gang...who sent us...this guy...a consumptive we found in the mass grave, we gave him some medicine to fake his death...to frame Wong Fei-hung..."

The truth came out! The surrounding neighbors were in uproar, condemning the Shahe Gang for their shamelessness. The woman who had been faking her tears had already slipped away in the chaos.

Huang Feihong walked up to Wang Huanbo, solemnly clasped his hands and bowed: "Thank you for your righteous help, brother, for exposing the villain's conspiracy and clearing my name! I am deeply grateful! May I ask your esteemed name?"

Wang Huanbo calmly returned the greeting and smiled, saying, "Master Huang, you flatter me. It is only right to stand up for what is right. I am Wang Huanbo, a returned overseas Chinese. Today's events were simply a matter of chance."