Proving God begins with the principle that no effort is wasted.

Jiang Lan unloaded rice at the back door of the grain shop and carried it into the warehouse one bag at a time.

The work isn't strenuous, but it's hard on my back.

He wiped his sweat and glanced towards the dock.

Several men in short brown clothes were wandering around the dock, not carrying any goods or moving anything, but just looking around—looking at the location of the sheds, how many roads there were, and when the Black Tiger Gang members changed shifts.

They were members of the Grand Canal Gang.

This wasn't the first time Jiang Lan had seen them.

In the past two weeks, the number of times the canal gang has been scouting the area has increased. Sometimes there are two or three people, sometimes five or six, and they always hang around the same few locations.

Uncle Zhou peeked out from behind the counter, followed his gaze, and looked at him with a rather unpleasant expression.

"Stop looking." He lowered his voice. "The docks have been in turmoil lately. The Canal Gang and the Black Tiger Gang are fighting over territory. Something's bound to happen sooner or later. Let's close up shop early, and don't wander around outside at night."

Jiang Lan nodded: "Understood, Uncle Zhou."

"Also," Uncle Zhou pointed to the shop entrance, "be mindful of what's going on inside and don't let anyone come in."

Jiang Lan nodded again.

As expected, something happened at the dock in the evening.

It wasn't a major fire; a few of his men bumped into each other, exchanged a few words, and then got into a physical altercation. By the time Jiang Lan ran over to see what was happening, the crowd had dispersed, leaving only a few pools of blood and a trampled shoe on the ground.

He squatted down, pretending to tie his shoelaces, and glanced around at the ground.

In the grass, a wooden sign was half-buried in the mud. He picked it up, turned it over and looked at it—it had the character "漕" (cao) carved on it, with water ripple patterns next to it.

The waist badge of the canal gang!

Jiang Lan gripped the wooden plaque, her heart pounding faster.

He stood up, stuffed his waist token into his sleeve, and walked back to the grain shop as if nothing had happened.

That night, Jiang Lan sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the waist tag over and over again.

The wooden sign was small, about the length of a palm and the width of two fingers, with its edges polished to a shine.

If a member of the canal guild loses their waist token, they will definitely come back to look for it. But what if that waist token appears in a place it shouldn't be...?

An idea was slowly taking shape in his mind.

Let those who deserve to die be killed by others.

Jiang Lan suddenly gripped the waist token tightly and then hid it in the ceramic jar under the bed.

The next morning, Jiang Lan took the opportunity of moving goods to go around to the back of Ma Sandao's shed.

There weren't many people around the shed, and Ma Sandao hadn't arrived yet. A few henchmen were eating breakfast in the distance, and no one paid him any attention.

He pulled the canal gang badge from his sleeve, tossed it onto the muddy ground at the entrance of the shed, and then turned and left.

Back at the grain shop, he continued moving goods, his face expressionless.

In less than half an hour, the dock was in an uproar.

"These are the things of the Grand Canal Gang! How dare they step on our heads?"

"Master Ma hasn't arrived yet. Should we go and settle accounts with them first?"

"Go! What are you afraid of!"

Jiang Lan stood at the entrance of the grain shop, watching the Black Tiger Gang members, carrying knives, swarm towards the east side of the dock.

Uncle Zhou turned pale with fright and quickly closed the shop door: "We're not open today. You should go home right away and don't walk on the street."

Jiang Lan nodded, turned around and left.

Instead of going straight home, he took a long detour and disappeared into the reeds by the dock.

The reeds were tall and dense, and when he crouched inside, he couldn't be seen from the outside. But through the gaps in the reeds, he could see the open space to the east of the dock.

The Black Tiger Gang and the Canal Gang had clashed. Each side had twenty or thirty men, armed with knives, sticks, and harpoons, cursing and swearing at each other.

"Your Black Tiger Gang attacked first!"

"Bullshit! You threw your badges at our doorstep, what is that if not a provocation?"

"What kind of waist tag? I've never seen one before!"

"Fuck your mother!"

It's unclear who started it. A stick flew out, and then the two groups collided like two tidal waves.

Swords flashed, shouts of killing filled the air, and screams filled the air. Blood splattered on the stone slabs of the dock, quickly turning into red mud underfoot.

Jiang Lan lay motionless in the reeds.

He had considered killing people; Scarface Seven died at his hands.

But that was poisoning, done in the shadows. This was the first time he had ever witnessed a group of people hacking and slashing at each other over a waist token he had thrown away.

He stared at the crowd, searching for Ma Sandao.

Ma Sandao stayed at the back of the crowd, not at the front. His left leg was still dragging, and the injury to his left rib prevented him from swinging his knife forcefully.

But he was, after all, a martial artist who had opened two acupoints, making him much stronger than ordinary henchmen.

He slashed three people, covered in blood, like a trapped beast.

But the canal gang also had some capable fighters.

A burly man charged in from the side and slashed Ma Sandao's right shoulder with his knife. Ma Sandao groaned, and the knife slipped from his hand. The members of the Canal Gang surrounded him and slashed him twice more.

Ma Sandao fell to the ground, blood gushing from his shoulders and back, staining the mud on the ground black.

"Retreat!" the members of the canal gang shouted, and they retreated in a rush.

The dock fell silent.

The Black Tiger Gang members were either dead or wounded, and those who could still move dragged their companions away.

Nobody cared about Ma Sandao.

Jiang Lan lay prone in the reeds and waited for a long time.

Only after confirming that no one was coming back did he stand up, push aside the reeds, and walk to Ma Sandao's side.

Ma Sandao was still breathing.

He lay on the ground, his face buried in the blood and mud, his eyes half-open. Hearing footsteps, he struggled to lift his head and saw Jiang Lan. A glimmer of light flashed in his eyes—not hope, but understanding.

"You... tricked me..." His voice sounded like it was being squeezed out of his throat, muffled and unclear.

Jiang Lan squatted down and looked at him.

"That waist tag, you threw it away..." Ma Sandao grabbed a handful of mud from the ground, but couldn't hold it, so he let go.

Jiang Lan remained silent.

Ma Sandao stared at him, a twitch at the corner of his mouth, it was hard to tell whether he wanted to laugh or curse: "You...you're ruthless..."

Jiang Lan raised her hand and slapped him on the throat.

Ma Sandao's eyes closed completely.

Jiang Lan took a money pouch from his pocket, which contained five or six taels of loose silver. She felt it again and noticed a small cloth bag sewn inside his sleeve, containing a pair of silver earrings, even better quality than her mother's.

He tucked the loose silver and earrings into his pocket and stood up.

Before leaving, he looked back one last time.

Ma Sandao lay prone in the blood and mud, indistinguishable from the other corpses on the dock.

……

In the evening, Jiang Lan returned home.

While Cheng was weaving a net, she noticed his pale face and asked, "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing. There was a fight at the docks, so the shops were closed and I came back." Jiang Lan smiled. "Mom, I'm hungry."

Cheng went to get some hot porridge. Jiang Lan walked to the well bucket, squatted down, and put her hand into the icy water.

My hands are still trembling.

He looked at his reflection on the water, his gaze more somber than before.

Jiang Lan recalled Ma Sandao's last words—"You're ruthless enough."

It's not that I'm ruthless, it's that I had no other choice.

He stood up, stepped onto a simple wooden stake in the yard, and began practicing his boxing.

One punch, two punches, three punches.

Tiger's might, tiger's swing, tiger's pounce.

Sweat splattered on the wooden stakes, mingling with the sweat on my palms, making it impossible to tell whether it was hot or cold.

The word "gold" flashed slightly in my mind—

【Crushing Mountain Fist (Beginner): 157/300】

Jiang Lan glanced at it, her gaze becoming even more resolute.

But this is only the beginning.

He withdrew his fist and looked towards the dock.

Night had fallen, and none of the once-arrogant scarlet lanterns were lit tonight.

But he knew very well in his heart:

With Ma Sandao dead, the Black Tiger Gang will not let this go.

It won't be long before they come back to investigate and find out who's behind this.

He, however, has been dragged into even deeper trouble.