Volume One, Chapter 14: The Big Head Gang

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“Changsun, I’m so useless; I did terribly. I’m nowhere near your level,” Song Chenfei sighed with a clear sense of self-awareness.

“Hey, have you ever trained before?” Changsun couldn’t help but ask.

“No, never.”

“Really never?”

“Really never. If I had, why would I be asking you to practice with me?”

Song Chenfei’s physical condition had improved somewhat, but compared to his past life, it was still far from adequate. Performing the movements was a real struggle. After just one session, he was gasping for breath and drenched in sweat. Meanwhile, Changsun remained calm and composed, her heart steady.

Their metabolisms were worlds apart, so he truly felt like a failure.

Could this be what they call a prodigy in martial arts training?

Changsun thought to herself: from her perspective, Song Chenfei’s first time practicing martial arts should have ended with him falling off the horse—he shouldn’t have been able to control it at all.

But to her surprise, Song Chenfei mounted the horse calmly on his first try. Although his movements on horseback were awkward, they were still fairly well executed.

As for his archery skills, they were poor, but that was expected for a first attempt.

“Your performance just now was actually quite good,” Changsun said enthusiastically. Teaching a martial arts prodigy was a rare opportunity.

Still, she wanted to test him further.

By the end of the day, Changsun’s gaze toward Song Chenfei had changed noticeably.

This guy really was a martial arts prodigy.

He learned so quickly.

In just half a day, he had completed the basics and grasped certain techniques—remarkable!

Normally, it took three months just to get started.

I must nurture him carefully.

In truth, Changsun did not know that although Song Chenfei was young, his body housed the top-tier skills of a secret agent from another world.

His current physical condition was limiting him, but once it improved, the various espionage skills from the 21st century would surely manifest brilliantly.

Some of these techniques and abilities were unique to the 21st century.

“These are all fundamentals, especially important. Only by solidifying the basics can you steadily advance on the path of martial arts. Remember this well!” Changsun instructed.

“I’ve got it, Changsun. I will study diligently from now on and won’t slack off even a bit,” Song Chenfei nodded.

Changsun looked up at the sky. “It’s getting late; I should head back. Here’s a token. If you want to train in the future, take this token to the Imperial Guard and inform them. If I’m free, I’ll come to teach you.”

“Don’t slack off or be lazy. If I catch you shirking, I won’t let you off,” she warned.

“Yes, Changsun,” Song Chenfei said.

He stared at the token in his hand—made of iron and somewhat heavy, clearly hollow inside.

The front bore the two bold characters “Changsun,” engraved with strength, as if imbued with authority.

Looking up, Changsun was already galloping away with her entourage, her figure growing distant.

“It’s said that the current Empress is highly skilled in martial arts, both she and the Emperor are absolute warriors. When they first came together, they had all the disadvantages but relied on sheer martial prowess to claim the throne. It’s no surprise,” Song Chenfei whispered softly.

As evening deepened, Song Chenfei returned.

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At the San Tai Inn, Song Chenfei pushed open the door.

“Li Hao, did you take good baths and exercise while I was away?” he asked.

But the next moment, he froze.

Li Hao was tied tightly to a chair with rough rope, a rag stuffed in his mouth, only able to emit muffled “mmm” sounds.

Song Chenfei was shocked.

At the same time, whizzing sounds came from the corner of the room—three crossbow bolts shot toward him.

In a split second, Song Chenfei’s reflexes were swift as the wind. He dodged sideways; the bolts pierced his clothes, leaving several holes but no injury.

Cold sweat broke out on him as he looked toward the corner. A masked man was holding a crossbow aimed at him.

“Only your clothes got hit? That’s unexpected,” the masked man’s voice was harsh and hoarse, like a venomous snake emerging from a broken gong.

“Who are you?” Song Chenfei’s eyes turned cold.

“If you don’t want to die, go back to the Prince of Pingyang’s mansion immediately. Otherwise, next time you won’t be so lucky. I’m just here to warn you,” the masked man hissed with a sinister laugh, then leapt out the window.

Wait!

He couldn’t get out!

Song Chenfei grabbed one of the man’s feet, causing him to crash heavily to the ground. His upper body slammed against the window frame with a loud bang, leaving dents on the wood.

“You dare grab me, Song Chenfei?” the man snarled, lifting his head as the black cloth fell from his face, revealing a bright red scar shaped like a triangle on his left cheek.

“Trying to escape? It’s not that easy. What do you think this place is?” Song Chenfei said, now recognizing him.

The scarred man had a huge triangular mark on his left cheek, strikingly obvious.

“I came to warn you, but since you want to die, I’ll help you,” the scarred man growled fiercely and swung his other foot hard toward Song Chenfei’s face.

The kick was lightning fast.

The scarred man assumed a useless person like Song Chenfei couldn’t dodge.

But Song Chenfei easily sidestepped.

Then, grabbing the kicking foot, he forcefully threw the scarred man, who crashed into the wall with a muffled thud.

“Ahhh!” the scarred man cried out in pain, his voice sharp and agonized.

“Perfect, time to try out the martial arts Changsun taught me—‘Leaning Mountain Spike’!” Song Chenfei said, raising his elbow like a sharp spike and striking fiercely at an acute angle.

The scarred man had just gotten up when the elbow hit his chest.

“Hiss—”

He gasped, face contorted in pain as if his stomach bile was about to come up.

“Tell me, are you sent by the Prince of Pingyang or by Song Qianshan?” Song Chenfei demanded coldly.

“I—I’m telling you, your grandfather sent me!” the scarred man blurted.

“Looking for death!” Song Chenfei prepared to strike hard, but suddenly heard the whoosh of something coming from behind.

Li Hao’s eyes were wide with fear, muffled sounds seemed to say “Watch out.”

In the nick of time, Song Chenfei swept sideways half a meter, narrowly evading.

Turning around, a cloud of lime powder filled the air.

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Song Chenfei quickly closed his eyes and rolled on the floor, narrowly dodging another volley of crossbow bolts.

Opening his eyes, the scarred man had been rescued by others. The window was wide open, clearly where he had escaped.

“They have plenty of people—some attack, some provide backup,” Song Chenfei observed, deciding not to pursue to avoid traps.

“How are you?” he asked, untying Li Hao.

Li Hao pulled out the rag and cursed, “Those bastards! They must be from the Prince of Pingyang’s mansion. Why does the Prince want you back so badly?”

Song Chenfei said, “Not necessarily. Though it looks like the Prince of Pingyang sent them, it’s possible someone is using that as an excuse to kill me. But on the surface, the Prince is the most likely.”

“They’re ruthless. What do we do? Are you going back?” Li Hao worried.

“Go back? What a joke. Why would I, Song Chenfei, go back?” Song Chenfei scoffed.

“Let’s go out,” he said, heading for the door.

“Where to?”

“Of course to the police station to report this—a murder attempt,” Song Chenfei replied casually.

Police station? Report? What were those? Li Hao looked puzzled.

Right, this world had no police station or reporting system.

It would be the government office to report the case.

Song Chenfei went to the government office and beat the drum to report the official.

Boom! Boom!

“What do you want?” A constable immediately came over, scolding Song Chenfei.

“Report to the official—someone tried to kill me,” Song Chenfei said.

“If someone tried to kill you, why aren’t you dead? Go cool off somewhere,” the constable said indifferently.

Li Hao was furious: “How can you say that? This is a murder case, not a small matter!”

Song Chenfei stopped Li Hao and briskly walked away.

The constable spat and sneered, “I’m going drinking at the Red Lotus tonight, no time for your nonsense.”

Soon after, Song Chenfei returned and beat the drum again.

“Why are you back again?” the constable was annoyed.

But his expression quickly changed to one of flattery and servility: “Sir, you should have said you were an official earlier. Otherwise, how could I... Sir, please come in.”

The constable flipped his attitude faster than turning a page. No choice—Song Chenfei was wearing the official uniform of a fifth-rank officer of the Ministry of Works, far above a mere constable.

It was clear that the rule of law in this era was quite poor.

Both the fairness of law enforcement and the seriousness given to cases were worrying.

Song Chenfei didn’t want to waste time and got straight to the point: “Someone just tried to kill me. Here is his portrait; find him immediately.”

He produced a vividly drawn portrait of the scarred man, whose triangular facial scar was unmistakable. Finding him should not be difficult.

In fact, even faster than expected, the constables quickly located the scarred man’s whereabouts.

“Reporting, sir, this man’s name is Mang Wu,” the constable said hesitantly.

“Speak plainly,” Song Chenfei said, seeing through the hesitation.

“We wanted to arrest him directly, but Mang Wu is a core member of the Big Head Gang,” the constable explained with difficulty.