The next day, the four companions set out together toward Xuzhou. It was the thirtieth day of the eighth month—crisp autumn air, high skies washed clear, with drifting white clouds. Riding along the Grand Canal, the four saw the waters shimmering in golden light, while willows trailed their slender branches like green gauze brushing gently against the riverbank. A faint cool breeze carried the scent of water, refreshing to the spirit.
In the distance, mountains rose in layered ridges, their reflections blurring into the river's surface as though heaven and earth were joined. Egrets glided idly above the waters, and fishing boats rocked lazily while nets were cast in leisurely arcs. The travelers urged their horses forward at an easy pace, drinking in the beauty of the scene, their hearts at ease beneath the autumn sun. The world around them seemed like a painted scroll come to life—mountains mirrored in water, drifting clouds, hoofbeats weaving with the wind.
They were headed for Xuzhou, the strategic hub of the Grand Canal. Since ancient times it had been a place where armies contended and merchants thronged. That the "Central Plains Anti-Traitor Assembly" was to be held here was no mere coincidence: the choice spoke both of convenience for gathering forces and of a symbolic call for the righteous paths of the jianghu to unite in restoring order against the wicked.
Just then, a clamor reached their ears—a chorus of shouts, the clash of blades ringing sharp and metallic. Clearly, a fierce fight was underway.
Lady Deng Ling, the "Bell in the Wind," furrowed her brows."Brother Xiong, what is happening up ahead? It sounds like two factions locked in combat."
Fang Xiong tilted his head to listen, a glint flashing in his eyes."Brother, why not go and see for ourselves?"
Wu Tong laughed boldly."Brother Fang, the jianghu never lacks for strange encounters. Let us ride on and witness what manner of struggle this may be!"
Zhao Rou and Deng Ling both nodded in agreement. The four spurred their horses toward the uproar. After rounding several low mounds, they reached the docks along the canal—and what they saw was chaos. Flags streamed in the air as two factions clashed, weapons flashing, the air torn with shouts and steel.
On the left, banners read Xingwu Gang and Matou Gang, powers long rooted in canal trade, controlling shipping, escorting merchants, and dabbling in gambling houses. Opposing them stood the Feng Gang and Xuzhou Gang, whose influence dominated the city markets and wharves, their fighters famed for skill and ferocity. Between the two sides, however, stood another group: men clad in uniform garb, white headscarves bound tight—the Salt Gang. Neither side claimed them, yet all eyes turned toward them. They did not join the fray, but their presence was clearly at the heart of the dispute, their faces set with grim unease.
Wu Tong's gaze hardened."This is no common quarrel. The Salt Gang controls Xuzhou's lucrative salt trade. Wealthy as they are, they've always kept a low profile. Why step into such a struggle now?"
Fang Xiong frowned."I fear this hides deeper currents. Today's fight may be more than a mere turf war."
The four exchanged wary glances. The undercurrent was plain—here lurked conspiracy.
At the docks, five great chairs were set in prominence. Seated upon them were the leaders of the north canal's five great gangs: Zeng Yong of the Salt Gang, Zhang Cheng of the Matou Gang, Yang Linzhong of the Xingwu Gang, Qiu Feng of the Feng Gang, and Xu Li of the Xuzhou Gang. Around them, banners rippled, and the gathered crowd of fighters showed the full strength of canal society assembled in one place.
Since they were new to the scene, Deng Ling turned politely to an old man beside her."Elder, may I trouble you? Why is there such commotion here today?"
The man eyed her curiously, then said, "Girl, you must be from outside. You know nothing of our great affair? In ten days' time, Xuzhou will host the Central Plains Anti-Traitor Assembly. Today, the five great canal gangs gather to decide whether they will join the meeting on the ninth of the ninth month."
Deng Ling pressed further, her tone warm and humble."Then why do these factions stand so sharply divided, even to blows?"
The old man's wariness softened."Feng Gang's Qiu Feng and Xuzhou Gang's Xu Li wish to join the assembly. But Matou Gang's Zhang Cheng and Xingwu Gang's Yang Linzhong refuse—and Yang even supports that traitor An Lushan! Salt Gang's Zeng Yong remains silent. Quarrels flared, words became shouts, and fists became steel. So in the end the five leaders decreed: the matter shall be decided by combat. Whoever wins shall dictate the gangs' course."
Even as he finished, the booming voice of Xingwu Gang's second-in-command He Yong rang out from the platform:"The Mighty Emperor has already taken Chang'an! The Tang ruler has fled! The wise know to follow the times—shouldn't we, the canal gangs, recognize the tide of power?"
He Yong was tall, broad-shouldered, and in his prime, radiating vigor. At once, Feng Gang's deputy Tang Fei replied:"Brother He, we share the same roots—why press each other so cruelly? Must we throw our weight behind a wolfish rebel like An Lushan?"
He Yong sneered."Enough words. The code of the jianghu is clear—let fists decide!"
Tang Fei, though fifty, was robust as an ox, his hair and beard white but his strength unbowed. The crowd roared approval, for ever since the rise of canal trade, such gangs had grown powerful, each guarding their domain. Today's assembly was meant to form unity, yet divisions cut deep. With Zeng Yong silent, Zhang Cheng and Yang Linzhong seized the moment to push their stance: Chang'an fallen, the Tang emperor fled—surely it was time to submit to the rebels.
On the raised platform, He Yong surged forward, his palms striking in swift succession. His youth and fervor blazed. Tang Fei gave a cold snort, stepped lightly back, then blocked with his left hand while his right chopped forward. He Yong faltered, retreating in shock. Tang Fei's sharp eyes flashed as he pressed the attack, his fists flying in a storm of strikes. With his signature technique Thunderbolt Like Lightning, his fists rained down as swift as storm and flash. He Yong could not withstand the barrage. With two resounding blows to his chest, he staggered back several steps—the outcome decided.
Tang Fei clasped his fists respectfully."I yield no insult. Thank you for the exchange."
At that moment, Zhang Cheng, master of the Matou Gang, leapt onto the platform, his eyes fierce."Old Hero Tang, your skill is fine indeed. Allow me now to test my hand!" He cupped his fists, bowing.
Tang Fei lifted a hand."Wait. Hear me one word. An Lushan is a wolf. He may have entered Chang'an, but he will devour all in his path. Beware!"
But Zhang Cheng was unmoved."We are here to let combat speak. Victory crowns the strong; defeat dooms the weak. Such is the way of the world!"
Tang Fei sighed heavily, shaking his head."If it must be so… then strike!"