Love on the Turquoise Land

Jiang Baichuan felt as if he were riding the clouds and mist, his soul utterly shattered, as he was yanked back through the window and slammed heavily onto the floor.

The clamor from below was chaotic, interspersed with triumphant whistles and eerie laughter. Someone shouted, "Where's the old man? Did you catch him? Bring him down, bring him down!"

The two men responded and simultaneously grabbed Jiang Baichuan by the back of his collar. With a rhythmic "Yo-ho," they dragged him down the stairs like livestock—step by step, his buttocks thudding against each stair. A dull pain surged up from his tailbone, and Jiang Baichuan's vision darkened, his teeth chattering uncontrollably. Suddenly, his body came to a halt as they reached their destination and released him.

Gasping for breath, Jiang Baichuan lifted his head.

So many people, their blurred figures swaying back and forth. The lights were blinding, seemingly a thousand times brighter than usual, forcing Jiang Baichuan to shield his eyes with his hand.

After a moment, he lowered his hand and looked again, finally seeing clearly.

Xing Shen was gone, leaving only eight of them—no more, no less. The other seven had already been ordered to squat with their hands on their heads, spaced half a meter apart. It was obvious they had been dragged out of bed: some wore pajamas, others only underwear, and those who preferred sleeping naked were, well, naked.

In the dead of night, the coldest hour, everyone's lips were blue, shivering from the cold. Several had swollen faces and bruised eyes—clearly, they had resisted before surrendering, though none had succeeded.

As Jiang Baichuan was dragged over, the others couldn't help but glance at him. Some looked dazed, their eyes questioning; others, sensing the dire situation, turned their heads in despair. A few glared with resentment, likely cursing him inwardly for his incompetence and poor planning, which had dragged them all into this mess.

When Jiang Baichuan saw the night raiders, he understood why his side had been so easily overpowered.

Not only were these men towering and burly, but more importantly, they were all armed.

Jiang Baichuan did have guns—mostly homemade hunting rifles and a few privately stashed handguns. The younger generation only knew that guns were banned in the country, unaware that the strict nationwide gun ban wasn't enforced until 1996. In the years that followed, there was a comprehensive confiscation campaign. At the time, it wasn't uncommon to see people riding bicycles with submachine guns slung over their shoulders, eagerly heading to the police station to surrender their weapons.

But in a forest, there are all kinds of birds. A few stubborn ones refused to comply with the policy, and Jiang Baichuan was one of them. His reasoning was simple: having what others didn't meant security in times of trouble. Besides, when venturing into the Green Borderlands, a few guns for backup were always useful.

But the guns in these men's hands were clearly smuggled through illegal channels—gleaming, with at least seven or eight submachine guns among them, all fitted with silencers. Faced with such firepower, who wouldn't drop to their knees and surrender? Who would dare challenge bullets with bare flesh?

In that instant, Jiang Baichuan remembered what Nie Jiuluo had said—

"Yan Tuo's father's generation had already made their fortune..."

Indeed, when Yan Huanshan rose to prominence, it was a time when national laws were still incomplete, and local criminal forces hadn't been fully eradicated. Mining and construction required both legal and illegal means, with connections reaching high into the corridors of power. Even if only a tenth of those connections had been preserved and maintained, acquiring contraband would be child's play.

And these were no ordinary criminals—they were underground lords who wouldn't hesitate to devour people. What did they care about the law?Jiang Baichuan gave a bitter smile. When Nie Er suggested "let's call it quits," he should have been ruthless and retreated immediately. Because of that fleeting compassion to redeem Crippled Father and the others, now they would have to sacrifice even more people—yes, more, perhaps even beyond those present at the scene.

He couldn’t help but shudder.

With a loud bang , a long bench was dragged over and placed squarely in front of him. A burly man with a white bandage wrapped around his head sat down on it. The man was enormous—standing like a tower, sitting like half a mountain.

This man was none other than Xiong Hei.

Xiong Hei was feeling particularly triumphant today.

For a long time, Lin Xirou had scolded him for being "brainless," saying things like, "You’re so big, but your head is just stuffed with meat." Deep down, he resented it and had always wanted to prove himself by pulling off something clever and stunning everyone. But things never went his way—whether it was burning Hua Saozi or overdosing Crippled Father into a stupor, it only reinforced his reputation as "all brawn, no brains."

But this time, he felt he had finally turned the tables.

Last night, he had been searching for Yan Tuo all over the eastern area, scouring every alley and corner, but found nothing.

Dejected, he decided to return to the scene of the incident as a last-ditch effort: even if Yan Tuo wasn’t there, maybe the blind man was. At least he wouldn’t return empty-handed—though he knew in his heart that anyone with half a brain would have fled by then.

As his car approached the reed marshes, he was startled: the place was bustling with noise, chaotic lights, and the flashing sirens of an ambulance.

The authorities had been alerted.

Given the scale of the mess he’d caused—one that had now spilled beyond their usual boundaries—Lin Xirou’s rules dictated that they should steer clear. Xiong Hei didn’t dare stop. He stepped on the gas and drove straight past, making it seem like just another passing night vehicle.

As he drove on, he forced himself to "think"—though it was more out of necessity. Yan Tuo was missing, and he had to come up with a way to fix things.

Then, suddenly, inspiration struck. In that brief glance earlier, he’d noticed an unusually large crowd and an excessive number of vehicles at the reed marshes.

Even if an ambulance had arrived, the commotion shouldn’t have been that big. Could family members have shown up? And the families of the injured were likely connected to Banya in some way, right?

Following them directly wasn’t impossible, but after what had just happened, they’d be on high alert. So Xiong Hei called A Peng—whose base was in the city, making it easier to cover all angles.

He instructed A Peng to gather a few sharp underlings and stake out every major hospital in the county. They were to watch for any ambulances arriving with head-injured patients, take note of the accompanying relatives—how many, what car they drove, license plates, the more details the better. He even emphasized gathering intel discreetly, like from nurses or orderlies, to avoid raising suspicion.

After giving his orders, he turned his car around and headed to Lü Xian’s place for a superficial bandaging. Before the dressing was even finished, good news arrived: the injured man’s condition was too severe for the county hospital, so he’d been rushed to Xi’an overnight. Two relatives had followed in a separate car.

Xi’an—what luck! Xi’an was his turf. Tracking down a car and intercepting someone would be far easier there than in Shihe. After all, Shihe was just an away game, but Xi’an? That was home ground.So Xiong Hei "excitedly" left, tossing Yan Tuo and the others to the back of his mind: all this time, the other side had been hiding like groundhogs, leaving them with pent-up energy and nowhere to unleash it. But now, suddenly, there was a breakthrough—and it was all thanks to him, Xiong Hei!

When he reported back to Lin Xirou, as expected, he only got a few scoldings. Lin Xirou was more meticulous than him and instructed: don’t act too soon against those two. Wait until they’ve settled in the hospital and reported their safety to Banya before making a move—if they act too early and Banya calls to check on Lao Dao’s condition but can’t get through, it might raise suspicions.

The raid was over, and it was time to tally the results. Xiong Hei scanned the surroundings. He couldn’t remember exactly how many people there should be, but he knew who was missing: "Wasn’t there a... useless blind dog?"

Someone replied, "Seems like he jumped out the window and ran. Natou’s people chased after him."

A blind man jumping out a window—now that’s desperate. Xiong Hei didn’t care much. Catching a blind man should be a piece of cake.

He dialed Lin Xirou’s number while putting on his earpiece so she could hear everything in real time.

Then he looked at the group crouching on the ground: "Among you, isn’t there a leader, someone surnamed Jiang?"

No one spoke.

Based on the two captives’ earlier confessions, Xiong Hei had a rough idea of Jiang Baichuan’s age and appearance. But seeing everyone play dumb annoyed him. His eyes narrowed as he randomly pointed at two people: "This one, and this one—drag them out. Blindfold one of them."

Immediately, someone stepped forward, yanked the two out, pressed a gun to their chests, and brought over a pair of jeans to cover one of their heads.

Xiong Hei pointed at the unblindfolded one: "You first. Point. If you’re the one surnamed Jiang, point at yourself. After you, he points. If the two of you point at different people, you’ll both be shot, and we’ll move to the next pair."

The man trembled at the words.

Jiang Baichuan sighed inwardly. What’s the point of pointing?

He said, "No need to point. It’s me. Jiang Baichuan—‘hundred’ as in ‘million,’ ‘river’ as in ‘mountain.’ If you have something to say, say it to me. Don’t bully the younger ones."

With that, he stood up from the ground. The earlier escape had been truly humiliating: barefoot, with one leg of his pajamas hiked up above the knee.

Jiang Baichuan pulled the pant leg down, straightened his collar, and smoothed his disheveled hair.

He added, "If you have questions, ask me. They’re just here for the money or to do the legwork. Some things, they might not even know."

Oh? Quite the backbone. Just as Xiong Hei was about to say something, he heard Lin Xirou’s order: "Don’t improvise. Don’t lay hands on him. Ask what needs to be asked."

Xiong Hei cleared his throat: "In 1991, did you go underground?"

A chill spread through Jiang Baichuan’s chest, as if icy water had surged up inside him. So, all this wasn’t just revenge for Yan Tuo’s captivity. There was a deeper reason.

But he hadn’t expected it to trace back so far—all the way to the very beginning of his life’s work.

He said, "That’s right. I did."

Xiong Hei gestured at the others: "Any more of them?"

Jiang Baichuan gradually steadied himself: "From 1991 to now, it’s been almost thirty years. Look at their ages—back then, they were either toddlers or not even born yet. Would they have gone down? Crippled Father did. And he’s already in your hands."

Xiong Hei grunted and flicked his hand dismissively to the side.Soon, his men escorted Banya and the others to another room, leaving only Xiong Hei, Jiang Baichuan, and another armed attendant in the hall. The vast space felt eerily quiet.

Jiang Baichuan pointed to a nearby chair. "May I sit down? My legs aren’t what they used to be. Also, could I have something to wear? It’s snowing outside—too cold."

Before Xiong Hei could respond, Lin Xirou’s voice came through his earpiece: "Give it to him."

He had no choice but to nod.

Jiang Baichuan dragged the chair over and sat down while the attendant fetched a down jacket from the next room and tossed it to him.

Once wrapped in the jacket, his upper body warmed up, but his lower half felt even colder. Jiang Baichuan didn’t dare ask for pants, afraid of annoying them.

Xiong Hei: "Do you know how Crippled Father lost that part of his leg?"

Jiang Baichuan: "I do."

"Then tell us. Be specific."

Jiang Baichuan wasn’t sure how much they already knew, but the certainty in Xiong Hei’s tone made him hesitant to lie. After a pause, he answered truthfully: "In '91, we went underground, hunting Dixing. We picked a clear, sunny day, but once we descended, it rained nonstop. The trees were so dense that even in broad daylight, it felt pitch black."

Xiong Hei stayed silent. Over the earpiece, Lin Xirou’s breathing was unnervingly calm.

"We’d already searched for over ten days, going deep—almost to the edge of the Black-White Ravine—but found nothing. We were ready to give up, but couldn’t bring ourselves to. Crippled Father, especially… Well, he was different from us. He wanted to strike it rich, go back, and get married."

"So even when the rest of us were resting, he’d still take his gear and keep searching."

Lin Xirou: "Ask him what gear."

Xiong Hei: "What gear was he carrying?"

Jiang Baichuan thought for a moment. "He had a hunting rifle slung over his back and a knife—no, an awl—tucked behind his waist. Back then, when hunting, sometimes you had to skin the game. An awl made it easier."

Lin Xirou said nothing further—likely meaning the answer was correct.

Xiong Hei: "Go on."

Jiang Baichuan: "I remember that day, we’d combed through another new area and found nothing. Exhausted, some of us played cards, others ate dry rations. Only Crippled Father kept pushing deeper. After so many days without a trace, we’d all let our guard down, so we let him go. We even joked that if he actually found something, he’d have to give us the lion’s share."

"Then, after who knows how long, we suddenly heard his screams in the distance. Everyone panicked, grabbing guns and knives, rushing toward the sound. From far away, we saw him thrashing on the ground, kicking wildly at something, stabbing down with his awl like rain. One of the hotheads fired a warning shot, and a dark shadow darted away—probably scared off by the gunfire."

"When we got closer, we saw a Dixing lying beside him, knocked out by a rock. It looked just like the ones in the manuals, about… the size of a monkey. Crippled Father’s leg was shredded, the bone almost visible."

"Someone asked, 'Is that a Dixing?' Then said, 'Damn, in this weather, there’s no sunlight—let alone being deep in the mountains. It’d take over a day just to get out.'"

"At that moment, Crippled Father was desperate to live. He begged us to… cut off the injured part of his leg before it was too late."After speaking, his back was already drenched in sweat. Even after all these years, that horrific scene remained vivid in his mind: it was the brutal act of hacking off a person's leg.

Xiong Hei: "What about that Dixing? Thirty years have passed—is it still alive or... dead?"

Jiang Baichuan had a rough idea now. It seemed he still held some cards in his hand.

He believed Xing Shen could escape.

"It's alive, and doing quite well, in a very secure place."

Damn, what kind of attitude is this? Xiong Hei was about to lose his temper when he heard Lin Xirou say, "Keep asking."

Xiong Hei suppressed his anger: "I heard you have a few skilled people—Mad Blade Nie Er, Rabid Dog Xing Shen, and Ghost Hand Yu Rong."

Jiang Baichuan remained silent. He was immensely relieved: Xing Shen had escaped, Yu Rong had already been notified in advance to rendezvous with Da Tou and the others, and as for Nie Er, he was hidden so well no one knew his whereabouts.

"Forget that useless dog. Yu Rong—I heard she's an animal trainer, even performed in Thailand by sticking her head into a crocodile's mouth. Someone like her isn’t hard to find. What I want to ask you is, who is Nie Er? It sounds like a codename, not a real name."

Jiang Baichuan nodded: "Correct. Her identity is classified. It's a tradition of the Chantou Army lineage. After all, Mad Blade can kill Dixing. To prevent the Changgui from interfering, Mad Blade's identity has never been publicly revealed."

Xiong Hei sneered: "Enough with the bullshit. I asked you who Mad Blade is. At this point, you're still hiding it?"

Jiang Baichuan stayed silent.

Xiong Hei turned to Lin Xirou for instructions: "Sister Lin, what do you think? Should we loosen his bones a bit?"

Lin Xirou: "Loosen them."

Xiong Hei raised his gun and fired.

The suppressor muffled most of the sound. Jiang Baichuan barely registered it—just a soft "pop," like a beer cap flying off. He thought Xiong Hei was just trying to scare him until he looked down and saw blood gushing from his right foot. Three toes, including the big one, were gone.

Jiang Baichuan let out a blood-curdling scream, toppling from his chair. Clutching his convulsing leg, he rolled wildly on the ground, smearing blood in a circle around him.

Xiong Hei: "Not talking, huh?"

Then he raised his voice: "Bring one out!"

Almost instantly, a nearby door slammed open. Someone dragged out a man wearing only underwear, gripping him like an eagle snatching a chick. The man had already been terrified by the screams from inside. Now, seeing Jiang Baichuan writhing in a pool of blood, he nearly lost his mind, scrambling desperately to crawl back into the room.

Xiong Hei strode over, stomped him down, and pressed the gun barrel against his throat.

Jiang Baichuan screamed hoarsely: "I’ll talk, I’ll talk! There’s no need for this!"

Perfect. Xiong Hei holstered his gun and walked back to Jiang Baichuan: "Well?"

Jiang Baichuan was covered in blood, his face streaked with tears and snot from the pain. He didn’t even notice Xiong Hei leaning in, just kept muttering, "I’ll talk, I’ll talk."

Xiong Hei nudged his face with the gun barrel: "Then talk."

Jiang Baichuan gasped for breath, his voice broken: "Mad Blade... Nie Er. Don’t you remember? You... smashed him. He still hasn’t woken up. He was... sent to Xi’an."