Justice on Xiguan Street – The Young Hero Appears
Seeing the growing crowd around him, the tyrant Liu Bao felt a chill run down his spine. His wicked deeds had clearly been exposed. Rage burned in his chest, and his face turned an ashen green. A cruel glint flashed through his eyes as he roared:
"Get out of my way—or don't blame me for turning ruthless!"
His thunderous voice echoed across the street, attempting to cow the onlookers into submission.
But the bold auntie stood firm, undaunted. She shouted even louder:
"Liu Bao the thug is forcing a helpless girl! Everyone, come and see! Such evil cannot be tolerated by Heaven!"
Her voice rang with righteousness, as if calling down judgment on Liu Bao's head.
Infuriated, Liu Bao could take no more. He strode forward and raised his thick arm, aiming to strike her down.
In that split second, a figure streaked out like a bird in flight. There was a sharp "smack"—Liu Bao's wrist was caught mid-air. Pain shot through his arm like lightning.
"Aaagh! That hurts! Let go!"
The young man who had stopped him—Wu Tong—let out a cold snort and released his grip. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he unfurled his folding fan with a crisp "swish." Dressed in refined robes, he stood with effortless grace, fan in hand and expression ice-cold.
"Be smart," he said, voice calm yet scornful. "Let the girl go—or prepare to suffer."
Liu Bao, wincing from the pain, looked up and saw that his opponent was nothing more than a youthful scholar with a fan—young, refined, and seemingly delicate.
Scorn filled his heart. Forgetting the sting of defeat, he barked:
"You've got guts, boy! Let's see how long you last. Get him!"
His gang of a dozen thugs surged forward, fists flying and feet stomping.
But Wu Tong, seventeen years of age, handsome and noble in bearing, was not so easily rattled. He had hoped his words would end the matter peacefully, but now his eyes flashed with anger.
With a "snap!" he shut his fan, just as two goons lunged at him. Wu Tong vanished in a blur. His hands struck like wind.
"Thud! Thud!" Both attackers were sent flying, crashing hard onto the ground.
Just as the fan dropped from above, Wu Tong caught it effortlessly midair, not missing a beat. Two more assailants rushed him—he spun aside with graceful ease, then raised his fan and swung it with internal force. It landed with solid thumps on their heads.
They collapsed, groaning in pain.
Now five or six more charged at once, howling furiously.
Wu Tong didn't flinch. With a flick of his wrist, he opened his fan again. "Swish!" The silk shimmered in the light.
"You lot clearly have the people riled up," he said, half-smiling, "Perhaps I should help you vent some steam!"
The gang swarmed him—but he was already among them.
His fan moved like it had a will of its own—sometimes open like a shield, sometimes closed like a blade. He weaved through the mob with deadly grace, his fan drawing beautiful arcs through the air.
Each sweep, each strike brought down another thug. "Thud! Thud!" they fell like dominoes.
The crowd was stunned—then erupted in cheers and applause.
"Such skill in one so young! A true hero!"
"Liu Bao's finally met his match!"
Wu Tong snapped his fan closed with flair and slowly surveyed the fallen thugs before turning to face Liu Bao directly:
"So… still want to continue?"
Liu Bao's face was ghostly pale, sweat pouring down his brow. Terrified, he hastily let go of Zhao Rou, the girl he'd been forcing away.
Wu Tong twirled his fan, calm and composed, and stepped forward:
"Still haven't let her go?"
Only two goons remained. Just then, Zhao Rou twisted both arms free with precise movements. With a spin and a strike, she knocked them both to the ground.
Liu Bao turned to flee. He had barely taken two steps when—
"Swish!" The fan snapped open behind him.
Wu Tong stepped forward with a smile and said,
"Weren't you just bullying a girl? Here she is now."
Liu Bao roared in rage and lunged forward.
Wu Tong tossed his fan into the air, shot out his left palm—smack! Liu Bao flew backward, landing hard. Wu Tong caught the falling fan with his right hand in one fluid motion.
"Miss Zhao," he said, "I'll leave him to you. Just don't kill him."
Zhao Rou didn't hesitate. She darted forward and landed a sharp slap across Liu Bao's face. Then a punch to the gut, followed by a swift kick.
Liu Bao spat blood and collapsed in a heap, barely conscious.
At that very moment, a stray dog wandered by, raised its hind leg, and urinated on the fallen villain.
The crowd burst into uncontrollable laughter.
Zhao Rou walked over to the brave auntie and bowed deeply:
"Thank you, Auntie. If not for your brave words, I might have been lost to disaster."
The woman laughed heartily:
"All I did was raise my voice. The one you really need to thank is that young master."
Zhao Rou turned to Wu Tong. Blushing slightly, she said:
"Thank you, Young Master. Without your help, I fear I'd have met a terrible fate."
Wu Tong looked at the girl and felt a pang of sympathy.
"It's alright."
He reached into his robe and pulled out four silver banknotes—each worth fifty taels. He handed them to her:
"Here's two hundred taels. Use them to bury your father."
Zhao Rou was just about to thank him when Wu Tong turned and strolled off with his companions, waving his fan.
"No more wine money today! Long-di, your treat!"
"After what I saw today?" Long-di replied. "Seeing Brother Tong in action was worth the price of a thousand drinks! Let's celebrate at Drunken Flower Pavilion!"
Zhao Rou stood in a daze, unsure what to do next.
The auntie came to her side and said:
"Take the money, child. That young man is Wu Tong, youngest son of Wu Gao, the wealthiest man in Guangzhou. He's known across the city for his chivalry and bold spirit. Today's misfortune has become a blessing. Go now—give your father a proper burial."
At the mention of her father, Zhao Rou burst into tears, unable to speak. She quickly wiped her face, turned, and quietly disappeared into the crowd—no doubt to arrange her father's funeral.