Li Wei stepped out of Master Chen's office with steady footsteps, but his mind was racing. This was the most the biggest gamble of his life.
Chen had agreed to withdraw his protection from Zhao Kun, but the words of a corrupt official meant little.
If Chen changed his mind or Zhao Kun sensed the betrayal, everything would collapse, along with the fragile hope Li had built with the other merchants.
For the first time in days, Li Wei wasn't just reacting to Zhao Kun's threats. He was orchestrating his downfall.
Now came the hardest part: waiting.
***
Over the next few days, the streets began to change. Small signs appeared first.
Zhao Kun's men no longer strutted with confidence. Shopkeepers stopped paying their "protection" fees. Word of Chen's withdrawal spread faster than expected, fueled by rumors the allied merchants continued to spread.
Then panic set in. Some of Zhao Kun's enforcers tried to intimidate merchants into paying again, but their efforts failed.
City guards under Chen's command patrolled the market, and for the first time in years, they didn't turn a blind eye to Zhao Kun's crimes. The gang that once ruled through fear now seemed vulnerable.
But Zhao Kun was not a man to accept defeat quietly. Cornered and losing control, he ordered his remaining men to send a message to Li Wei, Song Wen, and the merchants who defied him.
That message came in the form of fire.
***
One night, flames consumed two stalls on the edge of the market, a warning that Zhao Kun was still fighting to hold his grip.
The next morning, Li Wei stood amid the charred wreckage, surrounded by frightened traders.
"He's lashing out," Song Wen muttered. "Like a wounded beast."
Li Wei stayed silent, starring at the ashes. Anger burned in his chest, but he held it in check.
The merchants had sacrificed too much to dismantle Zhao Kun's little empire. They couldn't let fear win now.
***
That evening, Li Wei met with Song Wen, Ren, and the other two merchants in a dimly lot room.
"We have to end this," Song Wen said firmly.
Li Wei nodded. "If we wait too long, he'll find a way to regroup."
Ren frowned. "What's your plan?"
Li Wei placed an old trade logbook on the table, detailing routes once controlled by Zhao Kun's men.
"I know where he'll be," he said. "I have tracked the merchants still paying him. He's losing his grip, but not completely. There's one last collection he needs to keep his gang afloat."
Song Wen leaned forward. "You want to ambush him?"
Li Wei shook his head. "Not in the market, too many innocent people. We lure him out."
***
The next night, the merchants put their plan into motion. A trader still tied to Zhao Kun was persuaded with promises of protection and spread false information about a large shipment arriving at a warehouse on the city's outskirts, awaiting Zhao Kun's "supervision".
It was a bait, and Zhao Kun, desperate for funds, took it.
***
Li Wei waited in silence near the old warehouse, his hand resting on a dagger at his waist.
He wasn't alone. The merchants had pooled their resources to hire six guards, hardened former soldiers who'd seen the havoc Zhao Kun's gang had wrought.
Each carried traditional weapons: jian (double-edged swords), dao (single-edged sabers), and a qiang (spear), their steel glinting faintly in the moonlight.
As Zhao Kun and his eight remaining men approached, the air grew heavy, like a storm about to break.
Zhao Kun, clad in dark robes, carried a heavy dao, its curved blade notched from past battles. His men wielded a mix of weapons: jian, chain whips, and one with a pair of hudiedao (butterfly swords).
Their eyes darted nervously, sensing danger but too loyal—or too afraid—to flee.
Zhao Kun paused, scanning the warehouse's shadowed entrance.
"Something's off," he growled.
Then the trap sprang.
***
The guards burst from the shadows, their movements swift and lethal.
A qiang-wielding guard lunged first, his spear thrusting towards Zhao Kun's chest. Zhao Kun parried with his dao, the clash of steel ringing through the night.
"You dogs dare cross me?" he roared, spitting everywhere. "I'll gut you all!"
Li Wei stepped into the open, his presence drawing Zhao Kun's gaze instantly.
"You," Zhao Kun snarled, his eyes blazing. "You filthy rat! You think you can topple me?"
Li Wei's voice was calm and steady. "You destroyed our market. Now you pay."
However, Zhao Kun's laugh was venomous. "Pay? I'll carve your heart out, you spineless worm!"
He charged, and raised his dao, aiming to cleave Li Wei in two.
A guard intercepted, his jian flashing upward to block the strike. Sparks flew as metal screamed against metal.
Chaos erupted.
Zhao Kun's men fought like cornered animals, their weapons slashing and stabbing. A chain whip lashed out, wrapping around a guard's arm, yanking him forward.
The guard grunted, slicing the chain with his dao before driving its blade into his attacker's shoulder. Blood sprayed, staining the dirt.
One of Zhao Kun's men, wielding hudiedao, danced through the fray, his twin blades a blur. He slashed a guard's thigh, drawing a howl of pain, but another guard countered with a qiang, thrusting the spear through the man's side.
The thug collapsed, gurgling, his butterfly swords clattering to the ground.
Zhao Kun fought like a demon, his dao a whirlwind of death. He hacked at a guard, the blade biting into the man's arm, nearly severing it.
The guard staggered back, blood pouring, but didn't fall.
"Die, you traitor!"
Zhao Kun spat, swinging his dao again. Another guard parried, his jian locking with Zhao Kun's dao, their faces inches apart, sweat and rage mingling.
Li Wei stayed on the fringes, his dagger drawn but unused. He wasn't a warrior—his role was to ensure the trap held.
He shouted to the guards, "Pin them down! Don't let them break through!"
His voice cut through the chaos, steadying the fighters.
A thug with a jian lunged at him, sensing an easier target. Li Wei dodged, the blade grazing his sleeve, tearing fabric but luckily, not his flesh.
A guard intervened, his dao slashing the thug's back, sending him sprawling. Blood pooled beneath him, his curses fading to gasps.
Zhao Kun's men were faltering, their numbers dwindling. One tried to flee, but a guard's qiang pierced his leg, pinning him to the ground. He screamed, clutching the spear as blood soaked his robes.
Another thug swung a chain whip wildly, but a guard's jian severed the chain, then his wrist. The man's scream was cut short as he crumpled, clutching the stump.
Zhao Kun, drenched in sweat, fought on. He beheaded a guard with a savage dao strike, the man's body slumping as blood fountainhead.
"You'll all burn for this!"
Zhao Kun bellowed, his voice hoarse. "I'll see your families bleed, Li Wei!"
He charged again, aiming for Li Wei, but two guards flanked him. One thrust a qiang, grazing Zhao Kun's ribs, while the other's jian slashed his arm, drawing a deep gash.
Zhao Kun staggered, blood dripping from multiple wounds. His dao wavered, but his eyes burned with hatred.
"Curse you, Li Wei!" he rasped. "You'll rot in hell for this, you cowardly dog!"
He swung wildly, his strength fading, each strike slower, clumsier.
The guards pressed their advantage. A qiang pierced Zhao Kun's thigh, forcing him to his knees.
His dao fell, clanging against the ground. A guard kicked it away, while another bound his wrists with rope.
Zhao Kun's men, those still alive, were similarly restrained, their weapons scattered, their will to fight extinguished.
Zhao Kun, panting, glared up at Li Wei. "You... won..." he spat, his voice a bitter croak.
Li Wei met his gaze, unflinching. "I did what I had to."
Zhao Kun's laugh was weak, broken. He slumped, defeated, as the guards dragged him and his men away to face Chen's justice.