That's it?

“This matter is actually quite easy to resolve, but it’s not up to me to fix it. It depends on you—only you can truly settle it.”

As soon as Du Ruo heard this, she no longer hesitated. While she hadn’t been to Lishui herself, she knew enough about the famed Longquan swords of Lishui. Even though the swords produced there were now largely the result of industrial processes, who could say for certain that the old-fashioned smithies had all disappeared? It wasn’t impossible to use modern equipment to craft her Panlong silk, but the cost would be prohibitive for her. The blacksmiths, though, could do it. Combining traditional craftsmanship with modern tools might be the most cost-effective approach.

“Boss Du, whatever you say, I’ll do it.”

The moment Li Qiyao heard that it could be easily resolved, she wiped her tears away, looking at Du Ruo with hope shining in her eyes.

“The crime of molesting a woman can carry a sentence of over five years. I heard of a woman who’d been harassed for a long time by a man. One day, when they were alone in a room, she cried out for help. A crowd rushed in to find her clothes in disarray. The woman reported the incident, and with witnesses and a record of the man’s persistent harassment and repeated police warnings, the woman refused to settle. The man was convicted.”

Du Ruo spoke gently, but the implication was clear. The authorities hadn’t acted not because they were negligent, but because no one had filed a report for molestation. Normally, such a crime wouldn’t lead to a long sentence, but if there’s a record of ongoing harassment, even less-than-conclusive evidence can suffice for conviction.

Li Qiyao understood, though her gentle nature made her hesitate. If she had been a little more assertive, perhaps the man wouldn’t have gone so far.

“I practice martial arts—not to strengthen my body, but to fortify my spirit.”

With that, Du Ruo offered no more advice. Only if Li Qiyao could become strong inside would she be able to resolve this herself. In a society governed by law, force couldn’t solve everything, and Du Ruo wouldn’t ruin her own life for another woman.

After speaking, Du Ruo resumed dragging the man outside. Regardless of Li Qiyao’s decision, she had already obtained what she wanted. Once Li Qiyao gave her the blueprints, she’d be satisfied. If not, she could always make a trip to Longquan herself.

“I’ve already told everyone at the square to close up early and disperse. God knows which brat let go of their balloon today—it got tangled on the surveillance pole, blocking the cameras. It’s too high up. We’ll have to wait until daylight tomorrow to get it down.”

As soon as Du Ruo emerged, Yang Chenguang’s voice rang out. He spoke as he gazed up at the surveillance pole, shaking his head, then, without further comment, lit a cigarette and wandered off.

Looking up, Du Ruo realized it wasn’t just the cameras at the tavern entrance; even the ones at the intersection had been blocked at some point by a bunch of Happy Goat balloons—the kind she saw sold daily in the square by local villagers.

Du Ruo smiled, immediately understanding Yang Chenguang’s intent. Of course, that didn’t mean she could act with impunity. If she simply beat the man, inflicting nothing more than superficial wounds, even if the man reported her, nothing much would come of it. But if the man were to die or disappear, she knew Yang Chenguang would never cover for her—that was a matter of principle.

Reaching the entrance to the guesthouse courtyard, Du Ruo tossed the man onto the grass by the roadside and walked inside. She didn’t bother washing up or going to bed but stood in the courtyard, picking up her throwing darts from the table and resuming her practice. Soon, the lights in the tavern went out, though the second floor window remained lit, shadows moving restlessly behind the glass.

It wasn’t long before Du Ruo heard sounds from outside the courtyard—clearly, the man had come to. She set down her throwing dart and stood silently under the light.

The man rubbed his neck, looked around in confusion, then instinctively fixed his gaze on Du Ruo.

“You bastard! How dare you ambush me!”

His dazed eyes instantly burned with rage as he recognized her. He’d been knocked out, but he refused to admit it was because of Du Ruo’s skill, blaming instead a sneak attack and his own carelessness. After all, he’d trained in sanda for years and was quite confident in himself.

Shouting, he kicked open the gate and strode toward Du Ruo, cracking his knuckles as he advanced. Seeing Du Ruo remain motionless, the man’s anger only grew. He quickened his pace, launching a front whip kick at her leg while swinging a straight right at her face.

It was a textbook sanda combination: attack high and low, with the left hand ready to adjust for defense or a hook.

Du Ruo, curious to test herself, raised her knee so the whip kick struck her kneecap, then tilted her head so the punch brushed past her ear.

Just then, the man’s left hand came in with a sudden uppercut aimed at Du Ruo’s chin.

Ignoring the incoming hook, Du Ruo slammed her raised left leg into his stomach.

Bang! The man’s fist hadn’t even reached her before he was sent flying by her kick, rolling across the ground. He clutched his stomach, gazing at Du Ruo in disbelief—his eyes suddenly much clearer.

“That’s it? And to think I waited all this time in anticipation! How did you ever become a sanda champion?”

Du Ruo frowned. To be fair, the man’s form and speed were impressive enough and would pose a real threat to an average person. Yet the force behind his blows was unexpectedly weak. He was a city-level sanda champion, and even if a few years out of practice, his fundamentals should still be intact. Judging by his moves, he’d trained professionally—but she’d never expected his strikes to lack so much power.

“Get lost. Don’t let me see you in this village again, or else—”

Before he could stand, Du Ruo warned him coldly, then snatched up a steel needle from nearby and flicked it with a snap.

Thunk!

The needle embedded itself deep in a fence post beside the man.

Gulping, the man swallowed his retort, not daring to look at Du Ruo again. He turned and scurried out of the village, still clutching his belly.

Once he was gone, Du Ruo retrieved the needle from the fence, frowning. Her aim still needed work, but for intimidation, it sufficed. After all her practice, she could now hit within a five-centimeter radius—far from precise enough to strike acupuncture points, but good enough to avoid accidentally hitting someone.

Yet her frown wasn’t because of her marksmanship, but because she couldn’t understand how a city-level sanda champion could be so weak. By all rights, he shouldn’t be.

“Maybe I should watch some sanda match videos and see if I can figure it out.”

Puzzled, Du Ruo pulled out her phone and began searching for competition footage.