Surviving In A Martial Arts World To Become A Saint

Two days later, the night was as dark as ink, thick and impenetrable.

In the depths of Mute Bay, a shabby little boat gently swayed, with a few dim yellow lights leaking from the boat canopy.

Qian Biao sat cross-legged on the boat deck, with a greasy torn cloth spread before him, on which lay several scattered pieces of silver, a string of copper coins, and several rings and bracelets of varying quality.

Two henchmen, Ma Wu and Crippled Old Seven, crouched nearby, greed flickering in their eyes.

"Boss Biao, did you squeeze out all of the Wei family's coffin money?" Ma Wu rubbed his hands together, his voice kept very low.

Qian Biao picked up a piece of silver and weighed it, his mouth corners twisting into a fierce smile, "No matter how hard that old thing's bones are, they can't be harder than the chisel in our hands. There are still a few families, tomorrow we'll go 'light their lamps' again, let them wake up."

Crippled Old Seven took a gulp of inferior liquor and said in a low voice, "Boss Biao, the situation is tense. Those mad dogs from the Tiger Gang have been biting fiercely at the docks these past two days, even over at the canal entrance... I heard many brothers are packing their belongings."

Qian Biao's facial muscles twitched, his eyes sinister, "I've long expected this! So we need to make one final haul, then... run!"

Ma Wu's eyes lit up, "Boss Biao is wise! Then... the rotten meat?"