stjorthotic Chapter 136 The French Concession: The Intimidating Power of the Steel Behemoth!
Chapter 136 The French Concession: The Intimidating Power of the Steel Behemoth!
Chapter 137 The French Concession: The Intimidating Power of the Steel Behemoth!
The night wind on the Haihe River carried a muddy, fishy smell, seeping straight into one's bones along the deck of the steamship.
"Waaaaah—!"
"
The steam whistle sounded, and a plume of black smoke billowed from the steamship's smokestack. The ship shuddered slightly, finally breaking free from the pier and piercing the night fog on the river.
on the deck.
Shunzi and Lu Feng stood on either side of Lu Cheng, like two iron towers protecting him.
The Qingyun Class disciples who had just been watching Lu Cheng slaughter everyone like he was a living devil on the dock were now slumped on the deck, panting heavily.
Some of the younger ones, like Lu Ling, only now felt the lingering fear, their legs shaking uncontrollably.
"Master————"
Shunzi swallowed hard.
"Your skill in throwing coins just now—it was truly amazing! Those dozens of Japanese soldiers were like harvesting wheat—"
Lu Cheng did not turn around.
He stood at the bow of the boat, facing the river breeze, and said.
"Killing is inferior; intimidating is superior."
Lu Cheng casually tossed the handkerchief into the churning river, watching it be swallowed by a wave.
"The waters of Tianjin are too murky. We are outsiders, and if we want to put on a good show here, we need to set some rules and teach them a lesson. Otherwise, countless bastards will come and overturn our theater tomorrow."
Inside the cabin, Liu Wenhua and the other three masters helped each other out.
Although the effects of the muscle-softening powder had worn off, the four elderly people had been tormented for so many days, and their energy and spirit were severely depleted.
"Brother Lu————"
Liu Wenhua's eyes were red. He walked behind Lu Cheng, his lips trembling for a long time. All his words were in vain, but in the end, they all turned into a long sigh.
"You've made too much of a commotion tonight; I'm afraid the Black Dragon Society and the Japanese garrison will go crazy. Will our ship be able to dock safely?"
Before he could finish speaking...
A sudden change has occurred!
"Buzz—!!!"
Lu Cheng's hands, which were originally behind his back, suddenly tightened.
The instinct to seek good fortune and avoid misfortune struck me like a thousand steel needles at once.
My scalp tingled, and my hair stood on end.
This feeling was completely different from when I faced Liu's cold shots before.
A sniper shot is a line; dodging that line is your chance of survival.
But now this sense of crisis is like a giant, all-encompassing net, or a towering mountain, pressing down on us, with no way to escape it.
Not only Lu Cheng, but even Liu Wenhua and the others, whose qi and blood were depleted, suddenly felt a chill run down their spines, as if something extremely terrifying was staring intently at the steamship in the darkness.
"Stop the ship and drop anchor."
Without any hesitation, Lu Cheng turned his head sharply and shouted into the cockpit.
The sound used the "Thunderous Sound of Tiger and Leopard" technique, penetrating the roar of the machine and exploding directly in the helmsman's eardrums.
"Master Lu, what's wrong?!" The Green Gang's underling exclaimed in shock.
The moment he asked that question.
"Whoosh—!"
A blindingly bright light, like a giant sword from the heavens, cleaved through the river mist without warning.
The beam of light was so thick that it could engulf the entire steamship.
Everyone was so blinded by the light that they instinctively used their hands to shield their eyes.
Followed by.
"Ugh—!!!"
A whistle, ten times more powerful and deafening than that of the steamship, boomed across the river directly ahead.
The fog was torn apart.
A colossal steel beast slowly emerged from the darkness, revealing its ferocious silhouette.
It was a warship with a very deep draft.
The towering bridge, the fluttering French tricolor flag, and—the dark, gaping cannon at the bow, slowly turning its muzzle, locked firmly on the steamship.
The cannon's muzzle was so large that an adult's head could fit inside.
"Hiss—"
The entire crew gasped the moment they saw the naval cannon.
Liu Wenhua's face turned ashen, and he slumped onto the deck: "It's—it's a gunboat from the French Concession's naval patrol battalion."
No matter how high one's personal martial arts skills are, or how divine a master of internal energy is.
Even that cannon, powerful enough to obliterate the wooden steamship and reduce it to a shower of splinters, seemed utterly powerless.
This is the era.
These are powerful ships and cannons.
Lu Cheng squinted, facing the blinding searchlight.
He didn't panic, and didn't even use his "bone-shrinking technique".
He knew very well that at this distance, once the shell left the barrel, the shrapnel and shockwave from the explosion would indiscriminately cover the area. Even if he could jump into the river, his apprentices and the old master on the boat would definitely be dead.
"Master."
Shunzi gripped his machete tightly. "Let's fight them."
"What are you going to do, use your body to block the gun emplacement?"
Lu Cheng reached out and pressed down Shunzi's knife.
"The martial world isn't just about fighting and killing; it's about human relationships and social interactions. If someone sets up their cannons on someone else's turf, it means they're going to follow the rules."
"Turn off the fire, and let the brothers put away their equipment."
Lu Cheng straightened his long gown, which had been ruffled by the river wind. "Let's meet the foreigners."
The sound of the steamship's engine gradually subsided.
The gunboats opposite slowly approached, and the two ships sailed side by side.
"Bang!"
A springboard was set up.
Immediately afterwards, a group of French sailors in neat uniforms, carrying French rifles, clattered their boots onto the deck of the steamship.
Unlike the Japanese soldiers who roared and howled like wolves, they skillfully controlled the ship's vital points.
Finally, a French officer, dressed in a crisp French army lieutenant's uniform, sporting a neat mustache and holding a long, thin cigar, strolled over, surrounded by a group of constables.
He looked at the Chinese people on the ship who were full of surprise and doubt, and finally his gaze fell on Lu Cheng, who was standing at the front with his hands behind his back.
"Bonsoir (Good evening)."
The French officer took off his cigar, exhaled a puff of smoke, and surprisingly spoke in broken but fairly fluent Chinese.
"I am Pierre, the chief detective of the French Concession Police Department."
He bowed slightly and performed a somewhat informal hat-tipping gesture, his demeanor as elegant as if he were attending a dinner party, if one ignored the dark gun barrels around him.
"Inspector Pierre, what does this mean?"
Lu Cheng looked at him calmly, "This ship should have a legal permit for passage through the French Concession."
"Oh, of course, the pass is not a problem."
Pierre smiled, but his eyes were as sharp as an eagle's.
"However, just now, an extremely serious terrorist attack occurred in the Japanese concession. We received a note from the Japanese consulate that a group of extremely dangerous 'rioters' fled towards the Haihe River."
He stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over Lu Cheng's excessively clean long robe.
"For the sake of maintaining peace and security in the French Concession, and for your own safety," I think you all need to come with me to the police station to cooperate with the investigation.
"Please, esteemed Mr. Lu. There is an old Chinese saying: 'A wise man submits to circumstances.'"
Pierre made a "please" gesture.
This is a "soft knife" method of cutting flesh.
Instead of immediately threatening violence, he used the pretext of "maintaining public order" and politely concealed the threat of the cannons to forcibly detain them.
"What a wise person is one who knows when to yield."
Lu Cheng suddenly laughed.
His nonchalant demeanor surprised Pierre slightly.
Based on past experience, if these Chinese martial arts masters were pointed at with foreign guns, they would either fly into a rage and be shot dead on the spot, or be so frightened that they would kneel down and beg for mercy.
But the young man in front of me had such a calm and composed demeanor that he seemed like some kind of prince or nobleman.
"Since Inspector Pierre has extended such a warm invitation..."
Lu Cheng turned around and spoke to Zhou Daikui, Liu Wenhua, and the others.
"Boss, Brother Liu, everyone can rest assured. The French Concession is a law-abiding place. Inspector Pierre will treat us well."
"Let's go to the police station and have some coffee with the foreigners."
The French Concession, Central Police Station.
Outside, it was cold rain and a biting wind, but inside, the heating was on.
The air was filled with the rich aroma of Gauls cigarettes and the bitter scent of freshly ground coffee.
The dozens of members of the Qingyun Troupe and the four senior masters were politely "invited" into a spacious detention room.
Although it's called a detention cell, it's more like a large lounge, with benches and hot tea and blankets provided.
The French are indeed meticulous; they won't go to extremes before they understand the full story.
In the detective's office on the second floor.
Lu Cheng sat on the leather sofa, holding a steaming cup of black coffee in his hand, and took a small sip.
-
"It's a bit bitter, not as sweet as the high-quality crushed vegetables."
He put down his cup and looked at Pierre, who was sitting behind his desk.
At that moment, the office door was violently pushed open.
"Bang!"
A major in Japanese military uniform stormed in, accompanied by several military police officers, in a fit of rage.
The major's face was swollen on one side, clearly indicating that he had suffered a great loss at the dock or at the Dengyinglou restaurant.
"Detective Pierre, why don't you hand these people over to our Great Japanese Empire?!"
The Japanese major pointed at Lu Cheng on the sofa, his eyes red, "He's a murderer! He killed samurai of my Great Japanese Empire and destroyed Dengying Tower!"
Pierre sat in the boss's chair without even moving his buttocks.
He took a leisurely puff of his cigar and flicked off the ash.
"Major Yamada, watch your words. This is the French concession, not your Japanese military camp."
"As for this Mr. Lu—"
Pierre glanced at Lu Cheng.
Lu Cheng was leaning back on the sofa, resting with his eyes closed, as if the argument in the room had nothing to do with him.
That air of superiority, that composure that remained unchanged even in the face of a collapsing mountain, made Pierre increasingly convinced that this Chinese man was no ordinary person.
"Mr. Lu and his troupe were artists who were officially invited by the China Grand Theatre to perform in Tianjin."
"Our French Concession police force has an obligation to protect their personal safety until there is conclusive evidence that they have committed a crime."
"Evidence? The ground is littered with dead bodies, that's the evidence!" the Japanese major roared.
"Oh? Then may I ask if anyone witnessed Mr. Lu committing murder?"
Pierre shrugged, looking utterly shameless. "As far as I know, Dengyinglou is in complete chaos, and there are no survivors at Hongkou Dojo. You say he committed murder, but the court needs witnesses."
The Japanese major was nearly choked to death.
Who saw it? Everyone who saw it is dead!
Those who were still alive were terrified and couldn't even see Lu Cheng's face clearly.
"You—you French people are protecting criminals. I will protest to the consulate."
"Whatever you like."
Pierre shrugged. "Now, please leave. I need to speak with my guest."
The Japanese major glared at Lu Cheng through gritted teeth before leaving angrily with his men.
The office returned to silence.
Pierre stood up, walked to sit opposite Lu Cheng, and his smile faded.
"Mr. Lu, were you satisfied with the scene just now?"
Lu Cheng opened his eyes and smiled slightly: "Detective, your acting skills are no worse than those of us in the Peking Opera world."
"You flatter me."
Pierre leaned forward, his hands crossed on his knees.
"I helped you fend off the Japanese, but as you know, there's no such thing as a free lunch."
"The pressure from the Japanese is immense. Although I can use the laws of the concession to maneuver, I cannot detain you indefinitely."
"If you want to regain your freedom and leave the police station, that's fine."
"but----"
Pierre's gaze became as shrewd as a businessman's.
"In Tianjin, in these nine foreign concessions, if you want to live peacefully, you have to abide by the rules here."
"What rules?" Lu Cheng asked calmly.
"guarantee."
Pierre uttered two words.
"I need someone of sufficient standing to vouch for you. To prove that you will not cause trouble in the French Concession, and to prove that you are law-abiding citizens."
"It's not just a guarantee of creditworthiness; a deposit is also required."
"How many?"
"Fifty thousand dollars, in cash." Pierre demanded an exorbitant sum.
Fifty thousand silver dollars!
At the time, this was enough to buy an entire Western-style building in the most prosperous area of the French Concession. The French were clearly taking advantage of the situation.
If they cannot come up with the money or find the guarantor, they will go along with it and continue to detain Lu Cheng and the others as "suspects," or even secretly hand them over in order to appease the anger of the Japanese.
Lu Cheng was not angry.
He knew that this was the treatment citizens of a weak country received in a foreign concession.
Foreigners may seem polite, but deep down they are greedy and ruthless.
"Fifty thousand silver dollars, that's not much."
Lu Cheng stood up and straightened his long gown.
"But where am I supposed to find a reliable guarantor for the detective in the middle of the night?"
Pierre smiled. "That's not my concern. If there's no guarantor before dawn, I'll have to proceed strictly by official business."
Downstairs, in the detention cell.
The atmosphere was extremely oppressive.
Zhou Daikui was so anxious that he paced back and forth like an ant on a hot pan.
"Fifty thousand silver dollars, plus a guarantor of considerable standing—isn't this going to kill us?"
"Our Qingyun Troupe only brought a few thousand dollars' worth of travel expenses with us to Tianjin this time. Where are we going to get fifty thousand silver dollars?"
Shunzi slapped his thigh: "At worst, we'll fight our way out."
"Foolish."
Old Master Liu Wenhua rebuked, "There are foreign guns and cannons outside. This is a concession. If we really start a fight, we'll just be giving the foreigners an excuse to massacre us."
Lu Cheng stood in front of the iron fence, looking at the sky outside the window, which was beginning to lighten.
He's not in a hurry.
He still held the Black Tiger token given to him by Master Yuan. If things got really desperate, he could always send a message through the Green Gang's informants.
-
But doing so would mean owing the Green Gang an enormous favor. Favors in the underworld are the hardest to repay.
It was just an hour before dawn.
Suddenly, a piercing car horn blared outside the police station.
"Didi—"
'
A Rolls-Royce limousine, an extremely rare sight in Tianjin, was parked in front of the police station.
The car door opened.
First, two bodyguards dressed in black suits and sunglasses got out and deftly opened the back door of the car.
An elderly man dressed in an exquisite silk robe with dark patterns and leaning on a gold-inlaid cane slowly walked down.
The old man had a lean face and wore a pair of gold-rimmed glasses, exuding an air of refined elegance and dignity born of experience.
Beside him was a young woman dressed in a modern Western-style dress, with permed hair and a beautiful and refined appearance.
"Halt! This is a restricted area of the police station!"
The Indian police officers at the entrance were about to stop them.
A man who looked like a butler walked up to the old man and casually handed him a business card.
The Indian policeman glanced at the business card, his expression instantly changed, and he immediately stood at attention, saluted, and even stammered in broken Chinese, "Mr. Lin—Mr. Lin, please come in!"
Lin.
In the French Concession of Tianjin, and even in the entire North China business community, this is a name that doesn't need many prefixes.
Lin Shih-yuan.
One of the biggest compradors in Tianjin, he owned textile factories, flour mills, and even shares in French-owned banks.
These are the truly elite individuals who can sit with foreign tycoons, drink coffee, and discuss business.
Inspector Pierre was dozing on his cot in his office when he heard his subordinate's report and was so startled he almost rolled off the bed.
"Mr. Lin, why is he here at this time?"
Pierre quickly put on his coat and went out to greet them.
In the corridor, Lin Shiyuan leaned on his cane, walking at a leisurely pace.
"Mr. Lin, what brings you here? If you need anything, you could have just given a call. Why bother coming all this way in person?"
Pierre was all smiles, his fawning demeanor a stark contrast to his earlier arrogance towards the Japanese.
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