Start with acting, and you'll achieve immortality!

Li Ping strode over, took out his key, and turned the heavy iron padlock. This cellar had just been cleaned up by Qian Duo a couple of days ago, and it was usually locked very securely.

The door, built of blue bricks, led down twelve steps. As soon as it opened, a damp smell mixed with the aroma of stale tea rushed out. Old Cat lit an oil lamp. Li Ping saw the wall covered with slips of paper, tied with thin hemp rope, arranged in several strings according to the neighborhood. A gust of wind made the paper slips rustle, like white banners hanging on a wall.

"These are the ears of the south of the city," the old cat said, limping to the wall. He picked up a piece of paper and wrote, "Waitress at the teahouse in the east alley, listens to gossip, drinks tea, and keeps track of the winds."

He put the piece of paper back on the rope, then picked up another one: "Old Bai at the dock, keeps track of ship numbers, watches the movements, the eyes of unloading cargo, and manages the cargo route."

Old Cat picked up another sheet, tapping his pipe on the paper: "The three aunties of the red-light district collect dirty laundry, slipping notes into chamber pots, managing people's lives, gossip, noise, and dirty laundry—there's nothing in the south of the city I can't hear."

Li Ping stared at it for a long time: "How do we send it?"

"Don't let the eyeliner touch your head, leave something behind, and don't speak," Old Cat hung the piece of paper back on the rope. "Write words on the bottom of the bowl, draw marks on the ship's nameplate, and use a strip in the chamber pot. A designated person will go to retrieve it, and once retrieved, they won't return by the same route."

"If word gets out, the notes on the wall will have to be changed to their names."

"The dead are the most law-abiding; they can't speak," Old Cat tapped his cigarette ash. "Sir, if I may add something, this cellar of yours is a waste of space if you only keep notes. You should dig another layer underneath and put other things there in the future."

"What do you want me to hide?"

"How would I know, old man?" Old Cat grinned. "But someone like you will have something to hide sooner or later."

Li Ping's gaze lingered on the wall for a moment, then he pointed to a slip of paper: "'Iron Fist Gang Gambling House, big spenders enter on the 15th of every month.' What's the name of this silver?"

"It's from the Jingzhao Prefecture," Old Cat said, "not Constable Zhou, but the foreman under him in charge of gambling den cases."

Li Ping didn't ask any more questions, but he remembered those words.

In the corner, Ah Si was huddled on a low stool, holding a bowl of hot soup and drinking it sip by sip. His shoes had worn two holes in them, and the insteps of his feet were rubbed red. When he saw Li Ping looking over, he quickly pulled his feet under the stool.

"You spent the whole day here and all you brought back was this bowl of soup?" Li Ping asked.

Ah Si, the owner of the "secondhand shop," took a sip of soup and mumbled, "At the entrance of the Iron Fist Gang."

"Get to the point."

Ah Si put down his bowl and counted on his fingers: "The Iron Fist Gang changes shifts in the afternoon, there's a gap of two incense sticks' worth of time, and there's no one at the front or back gates; there are four gatekeepers, two old men and two strong men, the strong one likes to drink, and he always has to take a couple of sips before changing shifts; every day around 5 PM a carriage enters the back alley, without lights, and the driver never gets off; and also," he paused, "there's a scarred man who arrives every day around 5 PM, entering through the back gate, never through the main gate."

"Not discovered?"

"If we stand here any longer, the gatekeeper's eyes will be scanning us," Ah Si said. "I have to leave now."

Old Cat, who was smoking nearby, twitched his eye when he heard this: "I taught him," he added, "If he stands there for another fifteen minutes, I'll have to collect his corpse."

Li Ping glanced at A Si's worn-out shoes and pushed the flatbread on the table toward him: "Eat first, and then go to the accounting office to get a new pair of shoes."

"Sir, the skin on my feet is thicker than a city wall, why waste money?"

"Just take it," Li Ping said. "If your leg is ruined, will you crawl on your hands and knees to keep watch from now on?"

Ah Si held the bowl, lowered his head, and remained silent, the steam from the soup bowl washing over his face.

The old cat looked at it for a while, then took out a roll of paper from his pocket and spread it out under the lamp: "Sir, the main object is here."

The paper contained a drawing showing the courtyard of the secondhand shop, the layout of the back alley, the location of the underground entrance, and several markings: "The entrance is under the third stone pillar in the back alley of the secondhand shop," "Go down the steps to the gambling den," and "Go further into the gambling den, and you'll find the Blood Arena."

"Blood Arena"—Li Ping stared at those three words.

"The Iron Fist Gang's territory," Old Cat pointed to the map, "Whether the south of the city is chaotic or not depends half on the Chamber of Commerce and half on the Iron Fist Gang. The Chamber of Commerce manages the money, while the Iron Fist Gang manages the fists. In the eyes of the Iron Fist Gang, gangs like the Green Wolf Gang that collect protection fees are nothing more than watchdogs."

"What are the rules?" Li Ping asked.

"Fight your way in," Old Cat said. "The Blood Arena is divided into nine levels: Iron, Bronze, Silver, Gold, Jade, Spirit, Earth, Heaven, and Dragon. Start from the Iron level and fight your way up one level at a time, following the rules. No one can stop you."

"Even if we break through, what can the Iron Fist Gang offer?"

"Money, fame, and the right to make the Iron Fist Gang bow down," Old Cat raised his head. "Those who stand at the top until the very end, even their farts are considered rules."

Li Ping stared at the picture for a long time.

The oil lamp flickered, casting his shadow on the wall, which fell directly onto the three characters "Blood Arena".

"I'll take the drawing," he said, rolling up the paper and stuffing it into his pocket. "Tomorrow, I'll go and see what this custom is all about."

As they climbed the steps, Qian Duo, who had somehow somehow gotten onto the cellar entrance, peered in and yelled, "Sir! Are you going to your death again?!"

"Can't die"

"We haven't even had a chance to warm our seats on the guild's signboard yet, and if you're carried off sideways, how are we supposed to survive in the south of the city!"

"If you lose, your signboard will be burned as firewood; if you win, you can count the silver in the south of the city as you please," Li Ping said. "Can't you do the math?"

Qian Duo counted on his fingers for a long time, and finally understood: "Then you'd better keep your breath, lest you kill the God of Wealth who's bringing you money!"

Su Wan leaned against the door, having gotten down at some point: "I'll go with you."

"Big Ox and Two Tigers will follow," Li Ping said. "You stay outside and keep an eye on our retreat."

"Who's protecting them on stage?"

"I'll do it myself."

Su Wan looked at him for a while, then went upstairs without saying anything more.

Ah Si swallowed the last mouthful of soup and took two steps to catch up: "Sir, I'd like to get you some water!"

"Squat down obediently," Li Ping said. "The eyes outside the door are more dangerous than the fists on the platform."

"...squatting again."

"You have to squat to survive," the old cat tapped his pipe. "After you've squatted down tomorrow, I'll teach you three ways to eavesdrop on walls."

Ah Si's eyes lit up immediately.