Courtyard House: Initial Donation of 50 Million

The fire was finally extinguished by the combined efforts of neighbors and members of the Po Chi Lam troupe who rushed to the scene, but the once bustling theater was now a charred ruin, the air thick with the stench of burning and blood. The groans of the wounded and the cries of the victims' families were heartbreaking. Dozens of bodies lay scattered on the ground, and many more injured people were struggling in agony. The members of the Po Chi Lam troupe, along with Wong Fei-hung and Wong Wan-bo, were doing their utmost to rescue the wounded.

Supported by his clerk and constables, Magistrate Zhao Guodong crawled out from under the table. His official robes were covered in ash, his hat was askew, his face was deathly pale, and he was trembling all over. Looking at the horrific scene before him, especially the grim faces and murderous glares of the foreign soldiers, he was terrified. He knew this had blown up, and someone had to take the blame, or his official position would be in serious trouble! And the best candidate was none other than Huang Feihong, who had repeatedly clashed with the foreigners!

Zhao Guodong composed himself, forcing a show of official authority. He cleared his throat, pointed at Huang Feihong who was bandaging a wounded man, and shouted sternly, "Huang Feihong! How dare you! You dare to incite a disturbance in front of me and the foreign dignitaries, causing heavy casualties! Guards! Seize him!"

The constables exchanged hesitant glances. Everyone knew that Master Huang was a good man, and that it was the foreigners who fired the first shot tonight.

"Lord Zhao! You've turned black into white!" Huang Feihong suddenly stood up, his gaze sharp as lightning as he stared at Zhao Guodong. "It was clearly the foreigners who were being unreasonable, firing first and indiscriminately killing innocent people! Instead of apprehending the real culprits, you want to hold me accountable? Where is justice?!"

"Insolence!" Zhao Guodong took a step back, his voice trembling with fear, and hid behind the yamen runner. "I saw it with my own eyes. You provoked the foreigners first, which led to this tragedy! You still dare to argue? Mr. Jishan can testify!" He looked at Jishan for help.

Ji Shan, having recovered from his shock, immediately pointed menacingly at Huang Feihong and Wang Huanbo: "Lord Zhao is right! It was Huang Feihong and his apprentice who started the fight and attacked us with guns! I demand that you arrest and bring them to justice immediately! Otherwise, I will lodge the strongest protest with your Qing government through the consulate!"

The foreign priest couldn't help but step forward and said in broken Chinese, "Sir Zhao, that's not how it happened! It was Mr. Jishan and the others who first..."

"Father!" Ji Shan interrupted him fiercely, "This is none of your business! You'd better think carefully about which side you want to stand on!" His tone was full of threat.

The foreign priest opened his mouth, looked at Ji Shan's ferocious face and the sailors' hostile gazes, then glanced at the tragically dead civilians, and finally closed his eyes in anguish, made the sign of the cross, and fell silent. His individual strength was too weak.

"Lord Zhao! You are incompetent!" "Injustice!" "Why aren't the foreigners who committed murder arrested!" Upon hearing such a distorted verdict, the surrounding people and the injured man's family members were outraged and cried out in protest.

Zhu Rourong, Liang Kuan, and other disciples were trembling with anger and were about to rush forward to argue, but Wang Huanbo held them back firmly with a look. A conflict with the government at this time would be exactly what Ji Shan wanted, giving the foreigners an excuse to use force to suppress them.

Wang Huanbo stepped forward, shielding Huang Feihong behind him. Facing Zhao Guodong, his tone was calm yet carried immense pressure: "Lord Zhao, hundreds of eyes witnessed tonight's events clearly. The foreigners, drunk and disorderly, opened fire and massacred civilians. Ji Shan secretly attacked, intending to kill my master—all of this was seen by witnesses! If you wish to arrest anyone, you should first apprehend these murderers! If you persist in your own way, bending the law for personal gain, I fear you will not be able to silence the voices of the people of Foshan! If the imperial court knew that public resentment was boiling over here, and that foreigners were running rampant, I fear your official position would be in jeopardy!"

His words were reasonable and well-founded, neither servile nor arrogant, stating the facts while also subtly warning. Zhao Guodong's face turned pale and then red; he knew the truth all too well, but he couldn't afford to offend the foreigners! He stammered, caught in a dilemma.

Seeing how difficult Wang Huanbo was to deal with, Ji Shan feared things might get complicated if he delayed, so he put pressure on Zhao Guodong: "Lord Zhao! Are you going to arrest him or not? If not, I'll go see the consul immediately! You'll bear the consequences!"

Zhao Guodong broke out in a cold sweat. He steeled his resolve and shouted shrilly, "Rebellion! Rebellion! Do you all want to rebel? Huang Feihong and Wang Huanbo have gathered a mob for a brawl and attacked foreigners. The evidence is irrefutable! Guards! Seize them! If they resist, kill them without mercy!" The constables stepped forward with gritted teeth.

"Who dares to touch my master!" Pork Wing, Leung Foon, and others immediately stepped in front, glaring angrily. The atmosphere was tense!

Wang Huanbo's mind raced; a direct confrontation was not the way forward. He took a deep breath and whispered to Huang Feihong, "Master, a wise man doesn't fight a losing battle. The government is corrupt, and the foreigners are powerful. If we resist now, it will only increase casualties. Let's go with them first and then figure out a plan later."

Looking at the dead and wounded civilians scattered on the ground, and then at the approaching yamen runners and the smug Ji Shan, Huang Feihong's tiger-like eyes filled with tears. He looked up to the sky and sighed, "The heavens are clear! Yet black and white are turned upside down! Fine! Huanbo, I'll listen to you!" He threw down the rifle he had seized and surrendered. Wang Huanbo also voluntarily handed over his M1911A1 (just for show; he had spares and a Type 54 rifle).

Huang Feihong and Wang Huanbo were put in shackles by the yamen runners. The cries of the people were deafening, and they all knelt down, pleading for justice. Aunt Thirteen wept bitterly. The foreign priest lowered his head in shame. Ji Shan and Jackson, on the other hand, revealed the sinister smiles of victors.