Becoming an immortal from a canal worker

The autumn wind swept across the pebble-strewn riverbank, tearing the shouts and curses from both sides into fragments.

Chen Ping did not reveal himself immediately, but instead used the tall, withered reeds along the riverbank to silently approach the center of the standoff.

He stopped, his eyes narrowing slightly as he coldly observed the situation.

On the riverbank, two groups of people stood facing each other, their presence creating a tense atmosphere.

The fishermen from Luhua Village, numbering about thirty, lived near the river.

The leader was an old fisherman, around sixty years old, with a weathered face.

They gripped sticks, oars, and harpoons tightly in their hands. Although they looked angry, they were clearly lacking in confidence in the face of a crowd that outnumbered them many times over, and their formation was being forced to retreat step by step.

Opposite them were more than fifty ragged refugees, mostly young and strong, with sallow and emaciated faces.

The leader was a man in his mid-thirties with a scar on his left cheek. He carried a sharpened, thick wooden stick and acted arrogantly.

The Water Observation Method operates silently.

My gaze pierced through the noisy crowd, and the details of the refugee procession came into view.

Soon, he spotted three out-of-place figures among the group of starving refugees.

The three men were also dressed in tattered clothes and their faces were smeared with mud, but they shouted the loudest and kept stirring up trouble in the crowd.

His posture was also completely different from the listless and powerless refugees around him; he stood up straight and had a stable stance.

There was no numbness in his eyes from prolonged hunger; he was staring at the figure as if weighing its weight.

Chen Ping's gaze swept over the slightly bulging outlines of their waists and the thick calluses on their hands and feet from years of holding knives.

"A spy for the White Gang." Chen Ping sneered inwardly. Hu Qian's intelligence was correct; the White Gang was indeed trying to use these peasants to undermine the Green Robe Society's livelihood.

Just then, a lean man in the crowd jumped onto the abandoned, broken wooden crate, looked down at the old fisherman, and began to curse:

"Brothers! Back when we were fleeing famine in the north, even those landlords and rich folks had to give us a share of our food when they saw how starving we were! What are these fishermen? Why do they have the right to monopolize this area of ​​water?!"

He waved his arms, his voice highly inflammatory: "The Huai River belongs to God! The fish belong to God! Anyone can catch them! Today we'll drive them away, and Luhua Village, this riverbank, will belong to us brothers from now on!"

"Yes! Drive them away!"

"Why are they the only ones allowed to eat fish? I'm starving!"

The refugees were already starving, and when this wiry man stirred them up, their eyes turned red.

Dozens of young men raised wooden sticks and stones, howling as they charged forward like a pack of wild dogs that had lost their minds.

The old fisherman's face turned ashen, and he retreated repeatedly.

The young fisherman gritted his teeth and raised his oar, but his legs were shaking.

Just as it seemed the two sides were about to fight.

"stop."

A sound boomed across the riverbank.

The sound wasn't loud, but it clearly reached everyone's ears.

Chen Ping pushed aside the reeds and strode into the center where the two groups of people were facing off.

The entire room fell silent for a moment.

All eyes were on the young man who had suddenly appeared.

He wore a clean blue short shirt, with a red cloth strip tied around his waist, and a long, rectangular object wrapped in old linen on his back. His steps were steady.

He stopped, pointed at the lean man on the wooden crate, his eyes fixed on him like a dead object: "Since you're so sure of yourself, step forward and say it to my face."

The lean man was taken aback at first, but when he saw that Chen Ping was just a young man in his early twenties, all alone, a cold smile appeared on his lips.

He jumped down from the wooden crate, swaggered up to Chen Ping, and sized him up: "Who do you think you are? You're barely grown up, yet you dare to meddle in our business—"

Before he could finish speaking, Chen Ping snorted coldly and interrupted, "The White Gang's lapdogs have dared to trespass on my Green Robe Society's territory?"

Upon hearing this, the lean man's expression changed drastically, and his pupils suddenly contracted to the size of pinpoints!

Once his identity was exposed, he almost instinctively turned around and tried to disappear into the crowd!

"Zheng—!"

A clear, resonant slash of a blade shattered the deathly silence of the riverbank.

Chen Ping pulled back his hand, and the old burlap wrapped around the knife slid off.

The Nightfall Blade shot out from the sky, a streak of deep blue-green light exploding like a bolt of lightning in the sunlight!

The first move of the Vast Ocean Sword Technique: Tide Rises in the East China Sea!

Chen Ping moved like lightning, taking three steps in an instant, his blade flashing like a surging tide, engulfing the lean man.

puff-

The sound of a sharp blade cutting through flesh and bone is sickening.

A fine head shot into the sky, and crimson blood spurted out more than three feet high like a fountain, raining blood down in mid-air!

The headless corpse of the lean man remained in a fleeing posture, staggering forward two steps before collapsing onto the riverbank with a thud.

Dead silence.

The vagrants who were just shouting were now like roosters with their necks choked, their mouths agape, their voices stuck in their throats.

Everyone stared at the headless corpse on the ground, then looked at the young man standing there with a knife in his hand.

The leader, Liu, felt his legs go weak. Cold sweat soaked through his tattered clothes, and his hand holding the wooden stick trembled like a leaf.

Chen Ping ignored them and instead bent down to pick up the old burlap from the ground, gently rewrapped Jing Ye, and carried her on his back.

"This Luhua Village is the territory of the Qingyi Society! If you want to live, you must abide by the rules of the Qingyi Society! Anyone who dares to meddle will suffer the consequences!"

The refugees retreated hastily, not daring to even breathe loudly.

Chen Ping ignored them and looked down at the leader: "Are you the leader? What's your name?"

The leader swallowed hard, his voice trembling, "It's...it's me...they call me Scarface."

"Take your men and get back here." Chen Ping stared at him. "Wait for me at the village entrance tomorrow at noon. I'll show you a way out then."

He paused.

"If you dare to run away, or cause any more trouble, I guarantee you won't see the sun rise the day after tomorrow."

Scarface Liu gasped for breath, nodding so hard his neck almost dislocated: "Yes! Yes! I'll take them away right away!"

Chen Ping suddenly raised his voice and shouted, "Disperse!"

The refugees hunched their necks and squeezed into the reeds. After walking a dozen steps, some couldn't help but look back, then immediately turned their heads back and quickened their pace.

The refugees left, leaving only a mess and a headless corpse on the riverbank.

The fishermen of Luhua Village then realized what was happening.

The old fisherman led the way, kneeling on the mud and sand, kowtowing deeply, tears streaming down his face: "Thank you so much, sir, for saving our lives! If you hadn't arrived in time, our Luhua Village would have been in grave danger today!"

"Thank you so much for saving my life, sir!"

"You are truly kind! The Tsing Yi Society has not forgotten us!"

The remaining thirty-odd fishermen followed suit and knelt down.

Chen Ping frowned, then raised his hand in a gesture of support: "Get up, all of you. You must deliver your fish catch to the merchant guild on time. The Green Robe Society will protect you; this is the rule, and it's their duty."

The fishermen stood up tremblingly.

Just then, an elderly woman with a weathered face and gray hair squeezed out from the back of the crowd, carrying a large, cured silver carp in her arms. Without a word, she shoved it into Chen Ping's hands, her eyes red-rimmed: "Sir, this is fish my family cured. It's not worth much, please take it! Consider it a small token of our village's appreciation!"

Chen Ping glanced at her chapped hands, didn't refuse, took the pickled fish in one hand, and nodded: "Thank you."

He turned to the old fisherman: "Behave yourselves these next few days. Fish as usual, and don't provoke the refugees. Dispose of that corpse. Tomorrow, I'll give you an explanation."

The old fisherman nodded repeatedly, as if pounding garlic: "Yes, yes, yes! Don't worry, sir, we will definitely not cause trouble!"