Courtyard House: Initial Donation of 50 Million

Despite the victory over the night raid, Po Chi Lam was severely weakened. The wounded needed care, the damaged houses needed repair, and, most importantly, how to deal with the inevitable retaliation from the Shahe Gang and the foreigners became a huge weight hanging over everyone's mind.

The next day, the news spread, shaking Foshan. The people applauded Baozhilin's victory over the evil forces, but were also deeply worried about the future situation. Upon hearing the news, Magistrate Zhao Guodong was so frightened that he stayed indoors, feigning deafness and muteness. The British Consulate issued a stronger note to the Governor-General's Office of Guangdong and Guangxi, accusing Baozhilin of "premeditatedly murdering British employees (referring to the gunmen wounded by crossbow bolts and threatened with firearms)" and "armed resistance against the government," demanding immediate military intervention.

The pressure was immense. Inside Po Chi Lam, the atmosphere was heavy. The disciples were exhausted both physically and mentally from the series of fierce battles. Although their morale had not yet collapsed, the possibility of foreign troops intervening inevitably filled them with despair.

In the stillness of the night, Wong Fei-hung stood alone in the courtyard, gazing at the dilapidated front yard and the starry sky, his brow furrowed, his figure appearing somewhat lonely. Aunt Thirteen gently walked to his side and draped an outer robe over his shoulders.

"Feihong, don't worry too much, there will always be a way," Aunt Thirteen said softly.

Wong Fei-hung sighed and took her hand: "Joanna, I've caused you so much worry. This time we've offended the foreigners, and I'm afraid... the century-old foundation of Po Chi Lam will be ruined in my hands."

"Don't talk nonsense!" Aunt Thirteen interrupted him, her tone firm. "Po Chi Lam is upright and honest; it offended the foreigners to protect the people! Even if... even if we really can't stay here anymore, wherever you go, I'll go! At worst, we'll go back to America!"

Huang Feihong trembled, looking at Aunt Thirteen's resolute face in the moonlight, a surge of emotion and warmth welling up within him. This woman, with whom he had grown up, returned from studying abroad, and possessed independent thought, was willing to share life and death with him in this time of crisis, even abandoning her comfortable life to go far away. He was no longer the restrained martial artist who adhered to the master-disciple relationship and suppressed his emotions; a surge of passion rushed to his heart, and he suddenly embraced Aunt Thirteen!

"Joanna... what have I, Wong Fei-hung, done to deserve this..." His voice choked with emotion.

Thirteen Aunt was startled at first, then leaned against his broad chest with relief, listening to his strong heartbeat. A blush rose on her face, and she whispered, "Feihong, let's... let's get married. No matter what the future holds, we'll face it together."

The moonlight, like water, bathed the two embracing figures. In that moment, all the troubles seemed to fade away. Huang Feihong nodded heavily, his eyes glistening with tears and determination: "Alright! Once we get through this ordeal, we'll get married!"

Meanwhile, Wang Huanbo was not idle either. While assisting with the aftermath, he was also racking his brains for a solution. He found Toothpick Su and inquired in detail about several newspapers in Guangzhou and even Shanghai founded by Chinese gentry who competed with foreign merchants. He dictated an article exposing the collusion between the Shahe Gang and Jardine Matheson, detailing the truth of the theater tragedy, and implying that foreigners intended to use the opportunity to expand their influence in the concessions. He asked Toothpick Su to anonymously deliver the article to these newspapers. He wanted to use public opinion to create pressure on a wider scale.

Meanwhile, he re-entered the system space. Besides weapon blueprints, he meticulously reviewed technical materials on basic machining, the principles of small internal combustion engines, simple generators, and rudimentary chemical engineering. He realized that simply improving the silk reeling machine wasn't enough; he needed something more powerful, something that could more directly demonstrate "power" to deter the wicked and inspire public morale. Perhaps… it was time to try creating some "gadgets," like a "firework" with a longer range and greater power? Or perhaps a "signal device" that could emit a loud sound and a bright light?

He also secretly met with several of his outstanding and quick-witted disciples and neighborhood youths, forming a small "technical team" to teach them the most basic mechanical blueprints, principles of mechanics, and gunpowder proportions (in a way that was understandable in this era). He wanted to sow the seeds.

That day, Wang Huanbo found Huang Feihong and Aunt Thirteen. Seeing that the two seemed much closer, he understood and was happy for them. He said seriously, "Master, Aunt Thirteen, the foreign officials are pressing us harder and harder. We can't just sit and wait to die. I have a plan that might temporarily solve our predicament, but it requires taking a risk."

"Huanbo, please speak freely," Huang Feihong said.

"To catch the thief, first catch the king. The Shahe Gang has repeatedly acted as an accomplice to the wicked, and the root cause lies with Zhao Tianba. If we can find a way to capture Zhao Tianba and force him to hand over evidence of his collusion with foreigners and smuggling of weapons, and make it public, it may make the foreigners hesitate to act, and also make the government unable to pretend to be confused anymore."

"This plan is excellent! But Zhao Tianba is elusive and has many guards around him. How can we make a move?" Aunt Thirteen asked worriedly.

"This matter requires careful consideration; I'll make the arrangements." A sharp glint flashed in Wang Huanbo's eyes. A special operation targeting Zhao Tianba was beginning to take shape.