The oldest man, who looked to be just over forty, downed a glass of Erguotou with a slurp, smacked his lips, and said, “Luke, what did you go looking for those Sun brothers for yesterday?”

“Big brother, didn’t we used to do business with Sun Laoda and his people? Now that we’re here, we have to pay them a visit, otherwise people will find fault with us, right?”

Sitting across from the middle-aged man was a young man of about twenty-seven or twenty-eight, around 1.7 meters tall, extremely thin, with a sharp face and monkey-like features. His eyes darted around constantly, giving off a very shifty impression.

“You little rascal, always scheming—would you go see those two for nothing?”

The middle-aged man knew his subordinate’s nature all too well. Seeing his unconcerned look, he said, “Old Brooks holds an extraordinary position in the underworld. If you really stir up trouble, we won’t be able to show our faces north of the Yangtze anymore. Don’t go making any crooked plans.”

“What Old Brooks? Wasn’t he the one who lost a fight and ran off to Taiwan back in the day?”

The young man called Luke curled his lip and said irritably, “That old bastard’s been gone for decades, and even dead he’s still so intimidating. Our gang has hundreds of people now, right? So why do those other sects treat us so coldly?”

Society has always been divided into different classes, and the underworld is no exception. From the imperial court down to street peddlers, everyone can be categorized.

Among the upper nine classes, there’s a saying: first class is Buddha, second is Immortal, third is Emperor, fourth is Official, fifth is Distiller (liquor maker), sixth is Pawnbroker, seventh is Merchant, eighth is Landlord, ninth is Farmer.

With upper nine classes, naturally there are also middle and lower nine classes.

The middle nine classes are: first, Scholar; second, Doctor; third, Feng Shui master; fourth, Fortune teller; fifth, Painter/Calligrapher; sixth, Physiognomist; seventh, Monk; eighth, Taoist; ninth, Literati (musicians, chess players, etc.).

The lower nine classes are: first, Shaman; second, Prostitute; third, Sorcerer; fourth, Night Watchman; fifth, Barber; sixth, Musician (drummers, horn players); seventh, Actor; eighth, Beggar; ninth, Sugar figure vendor.

For hundreds of years, status in the underworld has been passed down through these twenty-seven trades of the upper, middle, and lower nine classes. Of course, while there are only twenty-seven in name, in reality the branches are far more numerous.

For example, the fifth of the lower nine, “barber,” also includes pedicurists, waiters, rickshaw pullers, as well as masseurs, shop assistants, dancers, hangers-on, and other service professions.

The men drinking here looked well-dressed, but in fact they were members of the Beggars’ Sect in a southern city. On the inconspicuous parts of their clothes, each had a patch; to an expert’s eye, their identity was obvious at a glance.

The middle-aged man’s surname was Baker, and he was fat-faced and big-eared, with a kindly appearance. In reality, he was the boss of the Beggars’ Sect in that southern city. Even when stabbing someone, he would wear a smile, earning him the nickname “the smiling tiger.”

The man called Luke was a key member responsible for collecting children from various places, arrogant and ruthless by nature.

“Big brother, we’re living the good life at home—why come here to kiss up to that old man’s stinking feet?”

Luke downed a glass of strong liquor, his face showing indignation. They had traveled a long way to pay respects at Old Brooks’s funeral, but the The Brooks Family had been cold and indifferent, leaving the hot-blooded Luke feeling resentful.

“What do you know? Old Brooks may have been in Taiwan for decades, but he has many disciples and old friends. In the martial world, north and south of the Yangtze, who dares not show him some respect?”

Although Elder Baker was scolding him, his face still wore a smile. “Our sect can’t hold its head up in the underworld, and we’ve done plenty of shady things. We’re not here for anything else this time—just hoping to make some connections. Maybe we’ll need them someday.”

The Beggars’ Sect is somewhat like the brothel guilds: though they have the longest history, they’ve never been respectable, and they lack martial strength. In conflicts, they’re usually the ones who suffer in the end.

That’s why Elder Baker took the opportunity of Old Brooks’s death to come and pay his respects, bringing a generous offering of spirit money, hoping to build some goodwill with the martial artists.

But what Elder Baker hadn’t expected was that the The Brooks Family took the money but didn’t show them any respect at all. On the last day, they weren’t even told about the funeral procession, and naturally missed the final banquet.

Being treated with such contempt, even with all his cunning, Elder Baker was furious inside. That’s why he had his men buy food and drink to drown their sorrows at the guesthouse.

“Damn it, boss, I can’t accept this! Why do those women from the Orchid Sect get to sit in the main hall, while we men have to drink in here?”

Suddenly, Luke slammed the table, his eyes bloodshot. “And those riffraff can be included in the Outer Eight Sects, but we’re excluded—what the hell is that about?”

“Hm? Luke, keep your voice down, don’t talk nonsense.” Elder Baker was startled and said, “Did you see clearly? There really were people from the Orchid Sect here?”