The Qi Arts Master Chapter 55
A single rumor began to spread rapidly through the martial world. It started in Shandong and soon reached Henan.
The Black-Clothed Tyrant. A mysterious young noble strolling about in black martial robes, with an expensive sword, jade plaque, and gold pouch blatantly dangling from his waist. A tyrant who felled anyone who dared accost him for his wealth.
At first, it was just those after his gold. But now, even martial artists seeking to test their skills and gain fame were lining up to challenge him. The biggest reason? Not a single one of those who'd crossed the Black-Clothed Tyrant had died.
Because of that, ordinary folk weren't so much afraid as curious: Who would pick a fight next, only to be brutally crushed? Or how would the Black-Clothed Tyrant himself meet his end?
And when the Black-Clothed Tyrant appeared on the streets of Zhengzhou, Henan's capital city, word spread like wildfire, turning the town abuzz in an instant.
As always, his black robes fluttered, the sword, jade plaque, and gold pouch swaying temptingly at his waist, drawing every eye.
Then a massive brute in gauntlets blocked his path.
"You're that famous Black-Clothed Tyrant, huh? I'm Pa Gong, third-generation successor of the Violent Torrent Iron Fist."
The Black-Clothed Tyrant cast his usual impassive glance.
Irritated by the look, the muscled man bellowed, "They say you never back down from a fight! Today, I'll strip away your overblown skills and show everyone the might of the Violent Torrent Iron Fist!"
With a fierce kiai, the brute thrust his fist forward. The sheer power surging from his rock-solid legs and arms made the onlookers swallow hard.
Boom!
A thunderous crash echoed as the muscled man flew back, slamming into a wall before sliding down, unconscious.
The crowd erupted in cheers. No one cared how he'd been defeated. They were just thrilled to witness the prowess of the infamous Black-Clothed Tyrant firsthand.
"Whoa! That musclehead went down in one hit?!"
"Insane..."
"So that's the Black-Clothed Tyrant we've only heard rumors about?"
The spectators' astonished chatter filled the street in moments.
The Black-Clothed Tyrant pressed on silently through the crowd, which parted naturally before him.
He walked slowly toward a nearby inn.
Inside, a brief commotion broke out as people recognized him, but it died down once he took a seat.
He set his exotic-looking sword, jade plaque, and gold pouch on the table. Onlookers gulped, eyes glued to them—but no one dared make a move.
The Black-Clothed Tyrant, Tian Ailang, let out a small sigh.
Another bust today.
Unaware of how to approach Hawen, he'd been flaunting himself and the jade plaque as ostentatiously as possible. If he couldn't find them, he'd make them come to him.
His antics over the past few days had been a bit odd, but they'd certainly built him a solid reputation.
Yet still, no contact from Hawen.
Even now, while I'm doing this, Sogwi must be suffering...
Lost in thoughts of his sister, Tian Ailang barely noticed the waiter bringing his simple order. With a cheerful "Enjoy your meal," the waiter slipped a small paper into his hand—so smoothly it almost felt unreal.
...!
Tian Ailang scanned the room. People were still staring, but no one seemed to have noticed the paper.
He wolfed down the food without tasting it, left the inn, and slipped into a deserted alley.
Shaking off the various trailing gazes with ease, he unfolded the paper quietly.
[Hai hour (9-11 PM): Red Lantern Tower, west outskirts of Zhengzhou]
Finally.
Tian Ailang's eyes gleamed. He ignited the paper with Samadhi True Fire.
The tiny flame danced like a spark of hope in his gaze.
* * *
As night fell and moonlight blanketed Zhengzhou's streets, one district glowed brighter than the rest.
In the brothels strung with seductive red lanterns, women in revealing outfits—thighs and cleavage on display—cooed at passersby, luring them in.
Drunken men, staggering and full of bravado, fell for the temptations and stumbled inside.
Tian Ailang moved stealthily, avoiding the revelers' eyes. No formal stealth training, but he darted through shadows—trees, buildings, rooftops—until he reached the most remote red lantern brothel.
Whether brothels just did booming business or this spot's prime location between Jiangnan and Beijing, even the outskirts spots were grand. This one was a three-story pavilion.
Instead of slipping through a third-floor window—likely where a Hawen contact waited—Tian Ailang chose the front door.
The creaky door swung open, and the brothel's heady booze scent hit him full force.
On the first floor, inebriated men sat around low tables with courtesans, the air thick with chatter and laughter.
"This way, please."
A woman in a deep red skirt, heavy makeup accentuating her features, approached and bowed politely.
"Maehyang herself?"
The drinkers on the first floor gasped in surprise.
Tian Ailang observed her curiously amid the reactions. Her powdered face had clear skin underneath, lips as red as her skirt. Her dimples flashed with every light smile, blending allure and cuteness.
"Staring like that makes a girl blush."
She coyly covered her mouth with her long sleeve, eyes twinkling. The drunks sighed enviously, glaring at Tian Ailang.
One, heavily sloshed and tottering, lurched toward him—like he was advertising a challenge. He poked Tian Ailang.
Great, another pest.
Not in the mood for nonsense on the cusp of something important, Tian Ailang coldly snapped the man's arm.
Crack!
"Gaaah!"
The bone-snapping scream drew eyes. Brothel guards lumbered over.
Tian Ailang eyed the unflinching Maehyang.
"If you're playing games, keep it light."
Her expression hardened at his icy tone, then softened into a smile.
"What do you mean? Fights break out here all the time."
Tian Ailang glanced around. Not just the brutes—swordsmen descended from the second floor. Even some "drunk" patrons drew blades, surrounding him soberly.
Absurd, but he'd anticipated it.
The moment he'd entered, he'd detected a suspicious taint in the booze aroma and expelled it with his inner energy. Once alert, the red flags piled up.
First, swords scattered everywhere—not just by the "drunks," but all over the brothel. Odd, even for a martial-heavy crowd. And leaving treasured blades away from reach?
Second, his entrance should've been just another customer. But stares pinned him from both floors immediately—unnatural focus.
Finally, faint inner energy flows in Maehyang's movements, plus that weird scent surging again.
The encirclement attacked without warning kiai.
Tian Ailang casually grabbed incoming blades, snapped them, and hurled the shards at their owners' shoulders.
He slipped past a brute's punch, striking pressure points to send him flying.
In seconds, five foes were down.
But dozens more ringed him.
"Annoying."
No patience for this waste of time. Tian Ailang retracted his presence, then unleashed his inner energy in a rush.
Whoooosh—
The air around him grew heavy with the massive qi release. Its density thickened like fog, blurring vision.
Crunch. Crackle.
The qi mist devoured the brothel's tainted scent like purifying acid.
"Urk!"
"Guhh!"
The dozens surrounding him clawed at their throats, writhing in agony—as if iron hands crushed their necks.
Tian Ailang fixed Maehyang with a cold stare. Fear flickered across her face.
"My turn to ask questions."
"S-Sir... there must be some misunderstanding..."
Crunch!
A nearby brute's already-broken arm twisted grotesquely; he collapsed.
Maehyang paled.
"They call me the Black-Clothed Tyrant these days, right? Just because I don't kill doesn't mean I can't—especially those who betray me or act like it. No mercy for them. Got it?"
"Y-Yes..."
She trembled, forcing out the words. This man was a monster. That qi mist gripping dozens? Unheard of. And his serene calm amid such power? Beyond her league.
"Hawen?"
She hesitated at the question. Crack! The brute hit the floor—dead, no doubt.
"Can't talk? Or is the answer worth more than a life? Waiting for backup from those martial artists on the second floor or whoever's hiding on the third? No answer, you die."
Realizing he meant it, Maehyang blurted, "S-Sir! I'll tell you. Yes, I'm Hawen."
Tian Ailang's cold interrogation continued. "No word games. This brothel and everyone here—Hawen too?"
She sweated bullets. As an info broker, this type was the worst: unstoppable force, no hesitation, cuts off talk, nothing to lose—or furious enough not to care. Raw power with a loose screw.
"Yes. This is a Hawen branch brothel. Today, only Hawen folk to receive you."
"Why summon me? Why attack?"
"To verify your jade plaque, test your skills, and capture you if possible."
Tian Ailang nodded faintly, holding up the plaque. "What's it mean?"
"Proof of the Vice Leader."
His brow twitched. "Vice Leader?"
"Yes. Hawen has only one—unique token. No idea how you got it, but it's genuine."
Tian Ailang eyed the plaque, thinking of Song Sogwi. These people? Her subordinates, somehow.
"Tch."
He withdrew his energy.
"Gah!"
"Cough!"
The warriors gasped for air, exchanging glances—but none dared attack. They just watched warily.
Tian Ailang ignored them, turning to Maehyang. "So, is that person on the third floor Hawen's sect leader?"