The Bund Chronicles, Chapter 37: A Gathering of Elites, Chen Lin Joins the Society

Chen Lin pushed open the door, and the warehouse’s musty air, thick with the scent of sweat, rushed to meet him.

He paused, his pupils contracting slightly—the scene before him looked like a gathering of Beggar Sect elders.

The center of the warehouse was cleared, surrounded by three concentric rings of men. Most wore faded, short tunics with sleeves rolled up to the elbows, revealing sturdy forearms. Yet, their faces lacked the dullness typical of common laborers; their eyes and brows held a seasoned, quiet gravity.

The first person to catch his eye was Pan Qiliang. Chen Lin’s heart skipped a beat: *When was Little Mirror released?* He didn't dare stare, quickly scanning the front of the crowd.

Liu Lichuan was still wearing that same faded green tunic, his trouser legs tied with cloth strips, no different from usual. But today, he held his shoulders and back straighter, a sharp, irrepressible edge lurking in his eyes that was a stark contrast to his usual mild demeanor.

"Brother Chen, how are you feeling?" Liu Lichuan’s voice cut through the crowd.

Seeing Chen Lin following Zhou Lichun, he immediately stepped forward to meet him, his brow furrowed in genuine concern. Chen Lin stopped and cupped his hands in a salute: "Many thanks to the leader for the rescue."

As he spoke, his peripheral vision darted to the back of the crowd. Liu Lihua was huddled behind a few men; when she saw him look, she immediately lowered her eyes, but the concern she couldn't hide was not lost on Chen Lin.

"Brother Chen, come, crouch down beside me." Liu Lichuan took Chen Lin by the wrist and led him into the crowd.

The room fell silent instantly. Dozens of gazes locked onto Chen Lin—some curious, some appraising, others probing. A man with a background in engineering, Chen Lin was unused to such attention; his earlobes grew hot, and he didn't know where to put his hands.

"The day you accepted that small blade I gave you," Liu Lichuan’s voice suddenly rose, carrying an unquestionable weight, "you effectively became a Red Handle of our Small Dagger Society. Our society never leaves one of its own to die!"

The words seemed meant for Chen Lin, but also for everyone present. Each syllable was heavy and resonant, shaking the dust on the warehouse rafters.

Chen Lin had already calculated the situation. Foreigners and merchants cared only for profit. What he could offer, others could too; to them, he was merely an extra garnish. They would never consider him one of their own.

But the Small Dagger Society was different. These men were from the bottom rung of society, and they lacked exactly what he possessed: knowledge and ability. He was coming to them not to add flowers to a brocade, but to provide help during a snowstorm. Moreover, he was confident he could forge the Small Dagger Society into a blade he could wield himself. They lacked money and industry, but they had men—a group of people willing to work and unafraid of death. And what Chen Lin lacked most right now were people to get things done.

With this realization, Chen Lin took a deep breath, cupped his hands again, and bowed to the surrounding crowd. His voice was clear: "The loyalty of the Small Dagger Society is peerless, something I have long admired. To join today is truly my good fortune!"

The crowd remained silent for a few seconds. Some nodded coldly without lifting their eyes; others squinted, their lips curled in disdain; still others offered a smile—but it looked ghastly, especially the man with the pointed chin crouching next to Liu Lichuan. The man had high cheekbones, a sharp chin, and eyes narrowed into slits; the light leaking from those slits as he smiled was chilling and sinister.

"Kid, you want to join our Small Dagger Society?" someone suddenly spoke up. It was a tall youth, not much older than Chen Lin but a head taller than everyone else. He leaned forward, his tone distinctly provocative. "You have to show us some skill, don't you?"

Liu Lichuan stood by, silent and motionless. He merely watched Chen Lin with a probing gaze.

The others shifted forward, their eyes like spotlights, all waiting for him to make a fool of himself.

Chen Lin did not panic. He spoke slowly, his tone calm: "My strength is not equal to yours, nor am I a fighter. But a few days ago, I rescued Lihua from four burly men. Do you know how I did it?"

As he spoke, he stepped toward Liu Lihua. She looked up, her eyes widening. Chen Lin wore a confident smile, his eyes sparkling so brightly it was dazzling. Her heart skipped a beat, her ears flushed red, and she quickly lowered her head, her fingers clutching her hem.

Chen Lin stopped before her, his voice softening: "Lihua, lend me what I gave you."

Liu Lihua looked up, immediately understanding. She pulled a palm-sized bamboo tube from her waist and quickly pressed it into Chen Lin’s hand, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Ever since Chen Lin had given her the custom chili spray, she had carried it everywhere, even while sleeping, though she had never had the chance to use it.

Chen Lin gripped the tube and turned toward the tall youth. He stood his ground, lifted his chin, and beckoned with his fingers, his tone mocking: "Brother, find five men to come with you and attack me together."

He moved to the corner of the warehouse—it was empty, ensuring no one else would be hurt.

The tall youth sneered. Looking at Chen Lin’s slender frame, narrow shoulders, and thin waist—like a bamboo pole compared to his own—he didn't take him seriously at all. With a mocking grin, he didn't call for help, but clenched his fists and charged.

He was fast. Chen Lin felt a blur of motion, and the man was already upon him. Without a second thought, he raised his hand and slammed his thumb onto the tube’s trigger.

*Hiss—* A fine mist sprayed out instantly.

The youth's fist was mere inches from Chen Lin’s face, but as the mist touched his eyes and nose, he froze. A second later, as if scalded, he clutched his face with both hands, a muffled cry of pain escaping his throat. Then, the six-foot-tall man collapsed, curled into a ball like a crushed shrimp, rolling on the floor.

"W-what is this?" someone stood up in shock, their voice trembling.

"Quick! Help him!" several men rushed over to assist.

Others stood with arms crossed, lips curled in disdain, snorting: "Thought he had real skills; turns out it’s just underhanded tricks."

Chen Lin ignored the snide remarks. He looked at the men helping the youth and said calmly: "Just wash his face; he’ll be fine."

Despite his words, the youth on the floor continued to struggle, his forehead veins bulging, looking as if he were suffocating. Liu Lihua stood to the side, covering her mouth. She knew the power of this chili spray—normal pepper water would just sting the eyes, but Chen Lin had added "ingredients." It contained a highly volatile solvent that dispersed upon contact with air, and the capsaicin would instantly penetrate the respiratory tract, searing the throat and making breathing difficult. Once a person began to choke, their instinctual panic would become uncontrollable.

Only after the youth was carried out did the warehouse quiet down.

Chen Lin turned, scanning the crowd, his voice louder than before: "This is my skill. You’ve heard that I made something that sold for fifty thousand silver dollars at a foreign firm."

When he mentioned the fifty thousand silver dollars, his confidence deepened, his eyes shining: "But I tell you all, that was just something I made in passing; it’s nothing. I have something far more powerful—a power I call knowledge."

He stepped forward, his tone impassioned: "Knowledge can change a person's fate, it can change this country, and it can change this world!"

The words were too grand. Most of the men in the warehouse were laborers who had little schooling and could not grasp what "changing the world" meant. But as they looked at Chen Lin and heard his fervent tone, a strange, burning heat flared in their hearts.

"Well said, Brother Chen!" Liu Lichuan suddenly began to clap. He stood up, scanning the crowd, his voice booming: "Why is it that we who do the most work and take the least pay are always the ones being bullied?"

He paused, waiting for silence, before continuing: "Because we have no knowledge in our heads! The kind of knowledge Brother Chen speaks of is not the Four Books and Five Classics for the civil service exams, but knowledge that can truly reshape the world!"

Liu Lichuan had previously overheard Chen Lin’s conversations with Wang Libin and understood his views on "knowledge." Thus, his words were particularly convincing. Finally, he walked to the center of the warehouse and gestured for silence. He turned, announcing with great solemnity: "I welcome Brother Chen Lin to the Small Dagger Society!"

...

Though Chen Lin’s initiation had a few bumps, it went smoothly overall. When the crowd dispersed, only about a dozen men remained—the senior leadership of the Society. Chen Lin knew it was time for business.

"Chen Lin, come, let me introduce you." Liu Lichuan walked over, draping an arm around Chen Lin’s shoulder, his tone lighter.

Chen Lin nodded, scanning the room. He only knew Pan Qiliang and Zhou Lichun, and the man with the pointed chin and melon-skin cap—the man looked like a profiteer, and though Chen Lin had a strong impression of him, he didn't know his name.

Liu Lichuan introduced them one by one. The first was the man with the pointed chin: "This is Zhai the Miser; he manages our society's assets and accounts. This is Xu Yao, formerly the leader of the Nanxiang Arhat Party; he has many men under him. This is..." Chen Lin listened and memorized.

Beyond Zhai the Miser, the others were leaders of various trades or territories—Zhou Lichun had brought the Qingpu Boatmen, Pan Qiliang the Temple Gang, and Xu Yao the Arhat Party. They held real power and had their own loyalists. The Small Dagger Society was more of a loose alliance than a unified front. They hadn't gathered for a shared goal so much as for mutual survival under Liu Lichuan’s personal charisma.

Such an organization, if it remained this loose, would never amount to much. History confirmed this: after the uprising, the Small Dagger Society was like a flash in the pan, quickly crushed by the combined forces of the Shanghai compradores and the foreigners.

Chen Lin pondered this silently. Once the introductions were finished, the atmosphere in the warehouse turned grave. Liu Lichuan’s smile vanished, and he looked at Chen Lin with a serious expression: "Let’s talk about your situation."

"My situation?" Chen Lin pointed to himself, stunned.

"Yes," Liu Lichuan nodded, his brow furrowed in worry. "Your arrest this time—it has to be resolved. Otherwise, what happens next? Do you plan to hide in the foreign concessions forever?"

Chen Lin’s expression darkened. He took a deep breath, lifted his head, and looked at everyone with honest eyes, saying every word clearly: "It is true that I killed him. The vengeance for a father is a debt that cannot be ignored. Although they say a gentleman should wait ten years to take revenge, ten years is too long. I don't have time to wait."

The warehouse fell so silent one could hear the dust settling. Everyone was stunned. Though they had heard rumors that Chen Lin killed Liu Wei, they hadn't believed it—he looked too refined and frail to be a killer.

Pan Qiliang was the most shocked. His mouth was wide enough to fit a fist, his eyes rounded, and the look he gave Chen Lin was now filled with a mixture of disbelief and genuine respect.