Chapter Twenty-Five: The Letter

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The mood among the nineteen shop owners was understandably anxious. Late last night, Yang Ze’s men had come to their doors, using the prestige of the Yang family to coerce them into an alliance.

At the time, they thought the best course was to agree to Yang Ze’s alliance for now, then secretly band together with other threatened shops and approach the two great families of North City to drive Yang Ze out of Xiangyun Street. That way, they could protect themselves.

What they hadn’t expected was that Yang Ze would send people with a written contract, demanding their signatures.

The contract had been simple—just a single demand for an alliance. They hadn’t thought much of it and signed without protest.

But then, the next day, chaos erupted. The Furious Stone Gang and the Broken Mountain Gang were wiped out by Yang Ze, with over a hundred dead. The contract they’d signed was brandished as Yang Ze’s shield, protecting him from reprisal.

Now, they realized they had been used as pawns by Yang Ze. They had fallen for his trap, thinking the lack of details meant room for negotiation, only to find themselves ensnared instead.

How they wished they could declare they hadn’t joined the alliance willingly, but none dared to speak up. The corpses of the two gangs were still a grim warning—this was the price of offending Yang Ze.

They were terrified that, if pushed to the brink, Yang Ze might go mad and drag them all down with him. They were merchants, not men of the underworld; they lacked Yang Ze’s ruthless resolve, and so were forced onto his pirate ship.

Back then, they all secretly wished for Yang Ze’s death, so they wouldn’t be shackled to him. Yet contrary to their hopes, Yang Ze survived, gained the support of the authorities, and now summoned them to discuss the details of the alliance.

In their hearts, these merchants cursed Yang Ze thoroughly. They had never wanted to ally with him. With the Yang family backing him, an alliance with Yang Ze was like bargaining with a tiger—nothing good would come of it.

They had always enjoyed the freedom of being their own bosses. An alliance with Yang Ze would only put them under his thumb and spell the end of their good days.

“Gentlemen, since we’re all here, there’s no point delaying. Let’s go in,” said a bearded elder in his fifties, shaking his head as he led the way inside.

Seeing him speak, the remaining eighteen felt a chill. He was the owner of the largest pawnshop on Xiangyun Street; if even he had to go in, what choice did the rest have? So, they all followed.

Inside, someone from Tongyang Bank escorted them to the rear hall, where Yang Ze awaited.

As the nineteen shop owners appeared, Yang Ze greeted them with a warm smile, his manner amiable.

The shop owners forced smiles in return, clasped their hands in greeting, and each found a seat in the hall.

Once everyone was seated, Yang Ze couldn’t wait to speak. “Thank you all for giving me this honor and coming to my Tongyang Bank today.”

The merchants kept up the pretense of politeness, but none of them had come willingly. Were it not for the still-warm corpses of the two gangs, they would have ignored Yang Ze entirely.

“Since you have all honored me by coming, I won’t waste your time,” Yang Ze said. “Let me be frank: today’s meeting is to discuss the question of profit sharing.”

At these words, Lao Xie and Yan Min, standing beside him, exchanged awkward glances. Men of the underworld had little sense of propriety—talking of profit sharing at the outset hardly looked like an alliance.

But before they could signal Yang Ze, someone spoke up.

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“Manager Yang, what do you mean by this? I thought we were here to discuss how to form an alliance, foster cooperation, and resist outsiders. Why are we suddenly talking about profit sharing?” The speaker was the bearded elder, Xue Lun, one of the largest business owners present.

“Rest assured, Boss Xue. My people will discuss those matters with you in detail later. I’m here only to talk about the portion of your profits you’ll be handing over to me,” Yang Ze replied calmly.

“What? Hand over profits? Manager Yang, if that’s your demand, then I’m out. We came to form an alliance, not to become your slaves. I, Zhong, will leave right now!” A ruddy-faced man slammed the table and started to rise.

“Boss Zhong, I wouldn’t be so hasty. If you walk out now, I can’t guarantee what might happen,” Yang Ze said quietly.

The ruddy-faced man stopped in his tracks and turned to glare at Yang Ze. “Are you threatening me, Manager Yang?”

“I have no intention of threatening anyone. But for those who insist on opposing me, there’s only one outcome. I trust you’ve all seen the example set before you. If anyone missed it, you’re welcome to look again.”

At his words, the hall fell silent again. The red-faced man’s expression froze, and he sat back down.

“Enough. There’s no need for such gloomy faces. You all know what I want. So, I’ll make it simple: from now on, you’ll hand over half your profits to me. In return, the Yang family will unconditionally protect your interests. This way, you won’t be losing out.”

At this, the faces of the assembled merchants darkened. Yang Ze was ruthless—demanding half their profits without hesitation. How could they possibly accept such terms?

“If you refuse, consider what the consequences might be,” Yang Ze added, watching their reactions.

“Don’t think you’re getting a bad deal. An alliance needs a leader, after all. The leader shelters you from the storm; it’s only fair he takes his share.

"And you’re not losing out. With the alliance, your profits will surely rise. Four Corners Market is chaotic, and on your own, it’s uncertain how long you can last. With the Yang family behind you, your prospects are far brighter.”

Yang Ze pressed his advantage, knowing he couldn’t just squeeze these merchants—they needed to see some benefit, even if it took time.

Sure enough, under his repeated pressure, someone finally gave in. After the first, a second and a third followed, until more and more agreed.

Yang Ze smiled, had the prepared document brought out, and was the first to sign.

The shop owners understood all too well: lining up to sign and stamp the paper meant they were truly on Yang Ze’s ship now, and could only hand over their money obediently.

Looking over the document, crowded with signatures, Yang Ze nodded with satisfaction.

“I appreciate your cooperation. I’ll leave you now—someone from Tongyang Bank will discuss the alliance details with you. I have other matters to attend to.”

With that, Yang Ze left, knowing his presence would only add pressure and hinder their negotiations.

But he didn’t leave idle. Just as he exited the hall, he noticed a servant urgently calling for him.

“What’s the matter? Didn’t I say not to disturb me unless it’s important?”

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The servant apologized repeatedly before finally explaining, “Someone from the magistrate’s office is here to see you. I told him several times that you weren’t in, but he refused to leave. I had no choice but to fetch you.”

“Someone from the magistrate’s office? Take me to him,” Yang Ze said, frowning as he thought of Yuan Heng. Still, he decided to see for himself.

The servant, relieved, led Yang Ze outside.

At the bank, Yang Ze saw a stranger in official robes sitting inside, perfectly still.

When the man saw Yang Ze, he immediately stood and approached. “I’ve waited and waited, but at last, Manager Yang, you’ve appeared.”

“I had business today and wasn’t taking visitors, but hearing an honored guest had waited so long, I made time. May I know your name and what business brings you?” As the son of the Yang family’s head, Yang Ze felt no awe toward a minor official.

“I’m of no consequence—a mere pawn. Were it not for important business, I wouldn’t trouble you. My master instructed me to come today, so I must obey.”

“And who is your master?” Yang Ze asked again.

“You’ve met my master before, and even crossed swords.”

Yang Ze’s pupils contracted, but he quickly recovered. “So, you’re from Lord Yuan. What does Lord Yuan want with me?”

“I don’t know my master’s purpose—I am simply to deliver a letter to you personally.”

“Now that you’re here, I can hand it to you myself and be on my way.” The man produced a letter and handed it over.

Yang Ze was puzzled—he had no idea what Yuan Heng was up to, but he could only accept the letter.

The man said nothing more, turned, and left, leaving Yang Ze alone with a grave expression.

If it weren’t strictly necessary, Yang Ze would have avoided any dealings with the authorities. Yang Yuanzhen had already warned him once about this. Another meeting today would surely reach Yang Yuanzhen’s ears, and who knew what rumors would follow.

But now that he had the letter, curiosity got the better of him.

Hurrying back to his courtyard, Yang Ze opened the letter. Inside was a single line, but that one sentence changed his expression at once.

It read: “The Wu Institute’s examination in Yuyang City has been postponed!”