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

When Wang Yaozu was carried away, no one on the dock said a word.

The door panel had been hastily removed and covered with a layer of coarse cloth. The cloth was soaked through, and blood was dripping from its edges. Wang Yaozu's neck was tilted to the left, his Adam's apple had collapsed into a dent, and blood was gushing out of the dent, flowing down his collarbone and into his chest.

The hem of his clothes was stained blackish-red and clung to his skin like a soaked rag.

His eyes were half-open, pupils dilated. His lips were still moving, but no sound came out. His throat was broken, his vocal cords were ruined, and his last breaths came out of his mouth with bloody bubbles. They burst with a "plop" sound, splattering onto his own face.

Zhao Chongyuan stood under the shed. He didn't pick up his teacup or his prayer beads, which were still on the table. He stared at Wang Yaozu on the door panel, his expression unchanged, but the hand that was holding the prayer beads remained still on the table, its five fingers slightly curled.

Like a claw.

A young man nearby leaned over and whispered, "Second Uncle, this guy surnamed Jiang—"

"Shut up." Zhao Chongyuan's voice wasn't loud, but it was deep.

The young man's name was Zhao Kun, Zhao Chongyuan's nephew and Zhao Wantang's cousin. He was a six-aperture martial artist who practiced the Baguazhang, a direct descendant of the Zhao family, and was not considered weak among the younger generation in the prefectural city.

He also participated in the martial arts examination this year, but ranked lower than Jiang Lan, and he has always been dissatisfied with that.

"We spent five hundred taels to hire this guy, and he's just crippled like this." Zhao Kun's voice was even lower, the marks of clenched teeth still visible. "I heard that guy surnamed Jiang only had six acupoints, and he killed seven with only six. If word gets out, it's a disgrace to our family..."

Zhao Chongyuan turned his head and glanced at him. That glance contained no anger, no disappointment, only one thing—a reminder.

Zhao Kun swallowed back what he was about to say.

Wang Yaozu's door panel passed in front of the shed. Zhao Chongyuan stood up, dusted off his clothes, and said to Zhao Kun, "Go, carry him to the clinic. If he's dead, that's fine; if he's not, settle the consultation fee."

Zhao Kun responded and led a few people to follow the door panel.

……

Huo Yuanlong was stunned for a moment.

His eyes were fixed on the stage. Jiang Lan was still standing there, blood dripping from his right hand, his gray shorts splattered with dark red spots.

Wang Yaozu lay two feet away, his neck crooked, blood gushing from the pit of his Adam's apple, the pool of blood on the table already reaching Huo Yuanlong's feet.

Behind him, Song Kui was the first to call out.

"We won!"

The people on the dock were as if their pressure points had been released.

"They won? They really won?!"

"Seven out of five acupoints were killed? This is fucking ridiculous—"

"That Wang Yaozu, the one who won five games in a row in Fucheng?"

"Look closely, his Adam's apple is shattered, how could he possibly survive?"

The whispers exploded like boiling water poured onto snow. Merchants and shopkeepers stood up from under their awnings, some craning their necks to push forward, others backing away.

They squeezed in to see the pool of blood on the stage, and retreated to avoid getting blood on their shoes.

The shed near the Zhao family's residence was deathly silent. Zhao Chongyuan remained seated, his teacup lying untouched on the table. His advisor beside him moved his lips, but no sound came out. Zhao Kun stood a few steps away, his mouth agape, forgetting to close it.

Huo Yuanlong looked at Jiang Lan's back, his throat moved, and then he suddenly turned around and shouted to everyone on the dock.

"The Canal Gang—Victory!"

The sound wasn't loud, but for a brief moment when the dock was quiet, everyone could hear it.

Then Song Kui shouted, "Victory!"

The dozen or so brothers from the canal gang shouted in unison, "Victory! Victory! Victory!"

Each shout was louder than the last!

Huo Yuanlong strode onto the stage, grabbed Jiang Lan's arm, and held it tightly.

"Okay!" he said.

Jiang Lan glanced at him and nodded.

Huo Yuanlong released his grip, turned to face the audience, and said in a deep voice, but each word was clear: "Today, everyone, be my witness. From this day forward, no one can touch the Canal Gang's docks."

No one dared to speak; the merchants and shopkeepers kept their heads down, and the Zhao family members had already begun packing up to leave.

The wind blew across the river, carrying the smell of blood from the arena far and wide.

Song Kui squeezed through the crowd from behind, draped his outer robe over Jiang Lan's shoulders, and said in a very low voice, "Brother Jiang, the Zhao family is still here. Don't just stand there, let's go."

Jiang Lan nodded.

The three walked through the crowd and headed out. Huo Yuanlong walked on the left and Song Kui on the right, like two walls sandwiching Jiang Lan in the middle.

The merchants and shopkeepers automatically made way for them.

There was fear, lingering dread, and an indescribable complexity in his eyes—yesterday they were still figuring out how to do business with the Zhao family after the collapse of the Grand Canal Gang, and today Jiang Lan had crushed Wang Yaozu's Adam's apple.

We walked out of the dock. Taiping Street was ahead. A horse-drawn carriage was parked at the entrance of the alley, with a black lacquered canopy and blue curtains.

Song Kui opened the car door. Jiang Lan was about to get in—

"stop."

The voice came from behind, not loud, but with a provocative edge.

Jiang Lan didn't turn around. Her hand rested on the edge of the car, and she paused for a moment.

"I'm talking to you."

Footsteps drew closer. A man emerged from the alleyway. It was Zhao Kun, followed by two other young martial artists, both raised by the Zhao family. They were broad-shouldered and burly, with unfriendly eyes.

Huo Yuanlong turned around and stood in front of Jiang Lan, saying, "Zhao Kun, even your second uncle hasn't said anything, who do you think you are?"

Zhao Kun's lips twitched: "Chief Huo, I didn't come here to see you."

"I'm looking for him."

His gaze passed over Huo Yuanlong and landed on Jiang Lan's back.

Jiang Lan slowly turned around and looked at him.

Zhao Kun was half an inch shorter than him, but he had a high chest and a raised chin.

"You beat Wang Yaozu by luck, you won one round by scheming. Do you really think you're so great?"

Song Kui placed his hand on the hilt of the knife, but Huo Yuanlong pressed down on his wrist and shook his head.

Jiang Lan remained silent. Her gaze swept across Zhao Kun's face as if she were looking at something insignificant.

Zhao Kun was stung by that look, and his voice involuntarily rose: "Do you dare to try the Zhao family's kung fu?"

"I heard you lost to my sister during the martial arts examination. I suppose you're just too afraid to try!"

The two people behind him took half a step forward, as if to encourage him.

The air at the alley entrance tensed for a moment.

"Kun'er".

Zhao

Zhao Chongyuan walked out from the direction of the dock, his steps slow but steady. He walked to Zhao Kun's side, but didn't look at him; his gaze was fixed on Jiang Lan.

The two stared at each other for a moment.

Zhao Chongyuan spoke first. His tone was as calm as if he were remarking on the weather: "Young Brother Jiang, you have impressive skills. Come visit me at my residence another day when you have some free time."

Jiang Lan did not respond.

Without waiting for a reply, Zhao Chongyuan reached out and patted Zhao Kun's shoulder, the force neither too light nor too heavy. Zhao Kun's shoulder immediately slumped.

"Walk."

Zhao Kun gritted his teeth, glanced at Jiang Lan, and turned to follow Zhao Chongyuan.

Huo Yuanlong released Song Kui's wrist and let out a breath.

"Get in the car."

Jiang Lan got into the car, leaned against the wall, and closed his eyes. The wheels rolled over the cobblestones, making a rumbling sound. He heard Huo Yuanlong say something to Song Kui outside, but the voice was too low to hear clearly.

……