Meanwhile, Thomas Reed leaned against the cargo, sitting in the hold pretending to nap.

His waist knife was placed right beside him, within easy reach.

Suddenly, he heard a “tap” sound, as if something had fallen onto the boat.

Thomas Reed sprang to his feet.

The next moment, a hand reached out from behind him, clamped over his mouth, and a dagger swiftly slashed across his neck.

With a “szz” sound, blood spurted from Thomas Reed’s neck, making a sound like a gentle breeze—strangely pleasant to the ear.

A thin man was lying atop the pile of cargo behind Thomas Reed.

This man wore only short shorts; he was one of the laborers who had been moving cargo earlier.

He pressed hard on Thomas Reed’s mouth until the blood had finished spurting, then slowly laid Thomas Reed’s corpse down.

He bit the dagger between his teeth, raised his hand, and made a gesture.

In the hold, two more men emerged from hiding and responded with a gesture of their own.

Only then did they lower their voices and begin to speak.

“Ten people: one businessman, one scholar in shackles, one small servant, and only seven guards. We’ve taken out three, four are left outside, and Old Snake will be up soon to finish them all off…”

Chapter Six: Yangtze River Bandits

Peter King swam up from beneath the boat…

He was as agile as a snake in the water, hence his nickname “Old Snake” (“Old Snake”).

He claimed to be a descendant of She Laotai Jun of the Yang family generals, and because of this lineage, he was quite respected among the outlaws.

Although the so-called “She Laotai Jun” was actually a result of storytellers’ mispronunciations over the years—her real surname was “Zhe,” and she was the daughter of the famous Song general Zhe Deyi.

But that didn’t matter. What mattered was that Peter King, this “descendant of a general’s family,” had fallen into banditry and was forced to make a living by plundering. Over time, he made a name for himself on the Yangtze, becoming a notorious river bandit in Taiping Prefecture and the leader of the “Eighteen Oddities of Jiangpu.”

Their gang of river bandits also had dealings with the government troops along both banks of the Yangtze. There were rules about which boats could be robbed and which could not.

Today, the bearded tax squad leader Richard Baker had tipped them off: a flock of fat sheep had arrived, carrying plenty of money and goods, but with no backing—just a few too many guards.

Smuggling between Song and Jin had gone on for a hundred years; even though the Jin dynasty was gone, the rules remained the same, and the waters ran deep.

A merchant caravan that knew nothing had shown up, and Richard Baker could tell at a glance that they had no connections in the underworld.

Trying to smuggle like that? Of course they’d be robbed.

After the taxmen notified the bandits, Peter King immediately brought his men over.

But Peter King only had eighteen men, while the merchant caravan had about thirty guards, so they had to pick just one boat to attack.

In the end, they chose the one George White was on—it had the caravan leader, the most copper coins, and the most valuable goods.

They left three men to guard the water stronghold, and fifteen went on the job: three disguised as laborers, six as boatmen to blend in on the boat, and the remaining six hid early under the hull—three at the bow, three at the stern, breathing through reed tubes poked through the planks.

When the boat reached mid-river, it was time to strike.

Peter King and his three men climbed up at the stern, each carrying two knives, tossing them to the three boatmen at the stern.

Two guards stood there with their hands on their weapons. Hearing a commotion in the hold, they turned to look, and when they turned back, six river bandits were already upon them with blades.

“Do it!” shouted Peter King.

But these two guards were clearly more formidable than he’d expected—much stronger than typical caravan guards, and their weapons were excellent. The bandits exchanged several blows, and their blades were already nicked.

“Damn, these guys are tough!”

Even so, six desperate men against two still managed to kill them.

Peter King spat in disgust, cursing the two for their ferocity, which had injured three of his own men.

They rushed into the hold, where three laborers had just finished off the guards inside.

“Old Snake, look! I killed the head guard—slit his throat with one stroke.”

The speaker was “Water Earthworm” Old Six. His name was just Old Six, with no surname, and he was the one who killed Thomas Reed, now excitedly seeking praise from Old Snake.

“Ambushing—what’s so great about that?” Old Snake scolded. “Hurry to the bow and finish off the rest.”

Old Six giggled, “The job’s already done! So much money.”

“Damn, still have to split the loot with Richard Baker…”

Just then, the sounds of fighting came from the bow, but the bandits didn’t care. They’d already killed five people, including the head guard—just two guards and three doomed men left.

There were six bandits at the bow to take care of them—more than enough.

They chatted as they moved quickly through the hold.

But… they saw a bandit scream and fall into the river.

At the bow, one guard wielded a crossbow, the other a sword. The two worked together, holding their own against the six bandits for the moment, and had even shot one dead.

“Damn monkey! Kill my brother—go to hell!”

Peter King was furious and immediately charged in with his blade.

……

At this moment, only a short while had passed since William Thompson forced Henry Clark to unlock his shackles.

Henry Clark had just fished a wire from his hair and unlocked the shackles on William Thompson’s hands. As the shackles clattered to the floor, river bandits leapt onto the bow, attacking the two guards.