Zhuo Yu Feng Yang Chapter 13

The next day around noon, Jiang Zhuo had just seen off a customer who had come for an appraisal when his phone vibrated. It was a message from Lu Chen, containing a compressed file and a brief sentence: The password is 19490815.

Jiang Zhuo’s heart leaped.

He immediately closed the door of Xianyun Studio, returned to the counter, and plugged the USB drive into his portable laptop. As he typed the string of numbers, his fingertips trembled slightly, a rare occurrence.

The moment the compressed file opened, a dense array of documents popped up—there were Brother Hu’s smuggling accounts for the past five years, lists of contacts for cultural relic transactions, and an encrypted document labeled “List of Lost Qing Palace Cultural Relics.” But the most glaring item was a scanned document bearing Old Hei’s signature and fingerprint, stating in black and white how he was instructed by Brother Hu three years ago to swap the remnant of the Dwelling in the Fuchun Mountains scroll and how he framed Zhou Jingshan.

Jiang Zhuo clicked on the list of cultural relics.

It recorded dozens of Qing Palace treasures scattered overseas, ranging from bronzes to calligraphy and paintings, from jade to porcelain. Each item was marked with its approximate location of loss and the person who handled it. On the last page of the list, prominently displayed, was a diagram illustrating the disassembly of the interlayer within the Dwelling in the Fuchun Mountains remnant. The small text beside the diagram read: The interlayer contains a secret archive from the Imperial Household Department, recording the hiding places of treasures. It was not Brother Hu’s target, but actually…

The text abruptly stopped, as if intentionally cut off.

The system’s alert tone exploded in his mind, more urgent than ever before:

Ding—Core secret detected: The last page of the list has been deliberately tampered with. Brother Hu’s true target is the gold-inlaid jade Buddha head from the Old Summer Palace recorded in the secret archive. This item is currently hidden in…

The alert was interrupted again, as if shielded by an invisible force.

Jiang Zhuo’s eyes darkened, capable of dripping water.

So that was it. Brother Hu went to great lengths to frame Zhou Jingshan, not for the remnant scroll at all, but for that gold-inlaid jade Buddha head. That list of cultural relics was merely a smokescreen he threw out.

Just then, the door of Xianyun Studio was violently kicked open.

Bang!

The door slammed against the wall, making a deafening noise. Over a dozen burly men holding steel pipes stormed in. Leading them was a man with a scar on his face, his eyes sinister and venomous like poison: “Jiang Zhuo, hand over the USB drive, and Brother Hu will spare your life!”

It was Brother Hu’s number one henchman, Scarface.

With Old Hei arrested and the warehouse raided, Brother Hu was clearly desperate.

Jiang Zhuo quickly pulled out the USB drive, tucked it into his inner pocket, and looked coldly at the intruders: “Brother Hu’s dogs run faster than their master.”

Scarface’s expression instantly turned savage. He waved his hand: “Smash it! Flip this junk shop over! If you can’t find the USB drive, break his hands!”

The strong men immediately rushed forward, brandishing steel pipes. Porcelain on the curio shelves was swept to the floor, emitting crisp shattering sounds.

Jiang Zhuo was prepared. He sidestepped a steel pipe swinging toward his face and grabbed a wooden self-defense stick from under the counter. The stick was custom-made from hardwood, heavy in his hand, and carried a sharp wind as he wielded it.

His fighting skills were not top-tier, but he was agile and knew the layout of the shop intimately. Using the curio shelves for cover, he dodged and weaved, swinging the stick to target the opponents’ joints.

“Aow!”

One strong man screamed and fell, clutching his arm, his steel pipe clattering onto the floor.

Scarface watched, his eyes splitting with rage, and roared: “A bunch of useless trash! All of you, attack!”

More people surged forward, and Jiang Zhuo gradually struggled. He took a hit on his arm, which stung fiercely. He gritted his teeth, his gaze sweeping toward the window.

Just then, Scarface seized the opportunity and swung his steel pipe toward Jiang Zhuo’s head.

Jiang Zhuo’s pupils contracted. He had no time to dodge and could only use his arm to block.

Bang!

A muffled sound, but it wasn’t the sound of steel pipe hitting bone.

Jiang Zhuo looked up and saw Lu Chen standing at the doorway, holding a collapsible baton. That strike had perfectly blocked Scarface’s steel pipe.

“Lu Chen!” Scarface’s face instantly turned pale.

Behind Lu Chen were over a dozen black-clad bodyguards. They moved with the speed of black lightning, instantly engaging the strong men in combat.

Xianyun Studio immediately descended into chaos. The sounds of steel pipes colliding and muffled groans rose and fell.

Lu Chen walked up to Jiang Zhuo and handed him a bottle of Yunnan Baiyao: “Are you badly hurt?”

Jiang Zhuo shook his head, took the medicine, rubbed some into his palm, and applied it to the bruise on his arm: “Why are you here?”

“I calculated that Brother Hu would retaliate, so I specifically had people watch Xianyun Studio.” Lu Chen’s tone was calm, his gaze sweeping over the wrecked shop. “We are partners. If your place is smashed, it reflects poorly on me.”

No sooner had he spoken than Scarface, taking advantage of the confusion, darted toward the door.

“Trying to run?” Jiang Zhuo sneered, picking up the wooden stick from the floor and slamming it hard against Scarface’s leg.

A cracking sound, the clear sound of bone breaking, was audible.

Scarface screamed and fell to the ground, rolling and clutching his leg, his face ashen.

The bodyguards quickly subdued all the strong men, who were tied up and thrown into a corner.

Lu Chen walked up to Scarface and looked down at him: “Tell Brother Hu that if he wants the USB drive, he needs to come get it himself.”

Scarface was in too much pain to speak, only nodding repeatedly.

Lu Chen waved his hand, and the bodyguards immediately dragged Scarface and the others away, quickly disappearing down the alley.

Xianyun Studio was a mess. Most of the curio shelves were overturned, porcelain was shattered everywhere, and there were scattered bloodstains on the floor.

Jiang Zhuo looked at the ravaged shop, his eyes heavy.

“I will have someone inventory the lost items and compensate you at market price,” Lu Chen said, his tone businesslike. “Brother Hu won’t give up. Before the South City Antique Exchange Fair, I will have people patrol the Antique Street area.”

“No need,” Jiang Zhuo shook his head, squatting down to pick up a shard of broken porcelain. “The rule of the antique trade is to accept defeat when you lose. There’s no need for compensation. Since we are partners, we should share the risks.”

He paused, then looked at Lu Chen: “Did you look at the contents of the USB drive?”

“I did.” Lu Chen’s expression was grave. “The trail for the gold-inlaid jade Buddha head is broken. Brother Hu will definitely make another move. He might send people to cause trouble at the South City Antique Exchange Fair. Keep a close watch.”

Jiang Zhuo’s gaze fell outside the door. The sun was bright, but its light couldn’t penetrate the wreckage-filled shop.

He tightly gripped the porcelain shard in his hand, his fingertips turning slightly white.

Brother Hu’s desperate counterattack was only the beginning.

And the South City Antique Exchange Fair was the next battlefield.

He looked up at Lu Chen, his tone calm but with an undeniable firmness: “Then let him come. I want to see how many cards Brother Hu has left.”

Lu Chen looked at him and nodded slightly, acknowledging his resolve.