Chapter Twenty-Three: The Rival

As the crowd counted to nine, a sudden change occurred. Before he could take the tenth step, Sha Hai spun around with lightning speed, his gun aimed at Zhang Zuolin.

The men Zhang Zuolin had brought were startled, and before they could cry out, it was already too late. Sha Hai fired incredibly fast—so fast that even Yang Xiaolin had no time to react before the gunshot rang out.

For a moment, Yang Xiaolin was certain Zhang Zuolin was doomed. Yet, to his immense surprise, the ambush was outmatched by Zhang Zuolin’s astonishing evasion. The instant Sha Hai turned, Zhang Zuolin didn’t even look back; instead, he hurled himself sharply to the left.

Bang!

The bullet whizzed past Zhang Zuolin’s waist, missing him.

Turning around, Zhang Zuolin slowly raised his rifle. Sha Hai futilely worked the bolt, but their guns held only one bullet. Staring down the barrel of Zhang Zuolin’s rifle, Sha Hai cursed, his voice trembling.

“Ten!”

Bang!

The duel ended. Zhang Zuolin had won.

Yang Xiaolin couldn’t help but admire Zhang Zuolin. Sha Hai was cunning, choosing to strike at the ninth step—the moment of greatest tension—making his treachery particularly sinister. Yet Zhang Zuolin was even cleverer. He couldn’t have seen Sha Hai’s actions directly, nor could he have dodged in time had he waited for the attack to begin. His leap showed he had anticipated Sha Hai’s move, and even guessed he would attack at the count of nine. This shrewdness rightfully earned him the future title of King of the Northeast.

Sha Hai now lay dead. His men were shaken, some angry, some lost. Zhang Zuolin smiled, tossed aside his rifle, and strode up to Sha Hai’s followers.

“Brothers, if you wish to follow me, I promise to treat you better than Sha Hai ever did! You all know my character—among my men, there are only brothers, no ranks or seniority. If you don’t want to follow me, our friendship remains; you’re free to walk away, and I won’t force you.”

His words were bold. Those men still held their guns, and Zhang Zuolin walked among them empty-handed. If even one had sought vengeance for Sha Hai, he would have died.

Generosity, cunning, loyalty, and courage—all these qualities radiated from him. Yang Xiaolin understood: this man, the future King of the Northeast, would be his greatest rival.

Zhang Zuolin’s power grew again. Sha Hai’s men didn’t lower their weapons, but they followed Zhang Zuolin. The strong always attract followers. His “insurance” business expanded to more than twenty villages. Yang Xiaolin knew that, had he not come, Zhang Zuolin’s campaign against the bandits would have proceeded smoothly, his strength rising, laying a solid foundation for his future rule.

Would this confrontation slow his advance?

As Yang Xiaolin pondered, Zhang Zuolin, smiling, approached him. He greeted him warmly, “Master of the militia, you are truly remarkable—how did you know Sha Hai would ambush you ahead of time?”

Zhang Zuolin laughed, “Brother Yang, do you think my victory was dishonorable?”

Yang Xiaolin shook his head, “I despise Sha Hai for attacking first.”

Zhang Zuolin glanced at him, his eyes suddenly sharp, as if probing Yang Xiaolin’s soul. Yang Xiaolin met his gaze calmly, his police training giving him a strong psychological edge.

Zhang Zuolin found no flaw and his face relaxed into a smile. “Gentlemen, though I treat these men as brothers, they can’t remain as before. I plan to take some into the mountains. You two pick fifty men from their ranks. Yang Er, you’ll be their captain, Yang San the vice-captain. What do you say?”

Yang Xiaolin and Golden Sabre’s faces lit up, “Thank you, Master!”

Zhang Zuolin laughed and said, “Rest assured, I’m no petty man. Whatever you were before, so long as you see me as a brother, if I have meat, you’ll never gnaw on bones.”

His words carried a double meaning, and Yang Xiaolin understood: Zhang Zuolin was wary of them.

Even with his suspicions, he allowed them to stay, giving them a squad of fifty men. Such a man was either a fool or possessed extraordinary magnanimity, and Zhang Zuolin was no fool.

Fifty men meant a small leadership role—a squad leader in the militia. The militia’s structure was similar to that of bandits: one leader and a few trusted deputies. Liu Yikun’s group was no different. But Zhang Zuolin’s militia was unique. His deputies were all capable fighters, while his inner circle comprised his father-in-law Zhao Zhanyuan and his kin Zhang Zuoxiang.

That inner circle advised him, but did not lead troops in battle, making him stand out. Even as squad leaders, Yang Xiaolin and Golden Sabre couldn’t participate in the mountain campaign’s decision-making.

“This fellow is tough, Commander. I think we’d better leave soon,” Golden Sabre said, clearly shaken by Zhang Zuolin’s display.

If they waited for Tang Dahuo’s arrival, leaving would be impossible.

“Yes, you should go first. Say you’re checking on Xianhe in the city—he’ll agree.”

Golden Sabre asked, “What about you?”

Yang Xiaolin smiled, “Don’t worry, I’ll find a way. Tang Dahuo is coming, and I want to learn more about him. Once we’re in the mountains, we’ll be better prepared. Find Sui Bing and the others, and wait outside Fengtian for me.”

Golden Sabre nodded, “Alright. Be careful, don’t let them sense anything amiss.”

Yang Xiaolin snapped his fingers, assuring him.

At that moment, Zhang Zuolin was in his room, basking in the glow of victory. His smile bloomed like a flower. Only here, inside the room, did he shed his mask and feel relaxed.

Few were allowed inside—only Zhang Zuolin, Zhang Zuoxiang, his father-in-law Zhao Zhanyuan, and Wang Jinhan could freely enter.

“Father-in-law, your prediction was spot on. That fellow fired at the count of nine!”

Zhao Zhanyuan’s lips curled into a satisfied smile. “Sha Hai is cunning; he’d never wait until ten for a fair duel. Are you hurt?”

Zhang Zuolin shook his clothes, pulling out two iron plates and tossing them on the floor. “I overestimated Sha Hai; these weren’t even needed.”

Zhao Zhanyuan sipped his tea. “What about those two newcomers?”

Zhang Zuolin sat beside him and spoke in a low voice, “I deliberately had Yang Er inspect my gun. He knows our ways well—he’s definitely not a mountain trader.”

“What do you plan to do with them?”