Chapter 93: The Thief Catcher

The little girl hunched her neck, clearly terrified of the people on the bank, but still worried about her parents there. She blinked, and suddenly noticed the long sword at the side of the black-clad swordsman. Her face lit up: "Big brother, are you a hero? Can you save us?"The black-clad swordsman didn't answer. He only grinned and reached out to ruffle the little girl's hair: "Kid, I'm not a hero. I'm just a Thief Catcher."

The little girl was too young to understand what a Thief Catcher was. She fumbled at her clothing pocket, pulled out a copper coin, and placed it in front of the black-clad swordsman. Stammering, she said, "This... this is coins I secretly saved up doing chores. I'll give it to you. Can you save us? Daddy didn't mean to owe him money. He first snatched the fishing boat from my father, and when the boat capsized he demanded compensation from my father. We really aren't refusing to pay..."

The black-clad swordsman glanced at the copper coin in the girl's hand. The smile on his face dimmed slightly. Whether it was the girl's gesture that displeased him or the noise behind that irritated him, he picked up his sword and stood.

"Kid over there, I'll count to five. Come over here this instant or you'll be sorry today!"

The people on the bank were still shouting, even waving to threaten a small boat down by the shore to come over and lend them use of it.

The black-clad swordsman cast a sidelong look at the burly man, picked up the little girl, and in one nimble leap the two of them stepped atop the black-canopied boat and lightly bounded to the shore.

The little girl hurriedly ran to her mother's side.

The burly man stared at the black-clad swordsman, suddenly squinted, his expression shifting: "You are—Thief Catcher Jiang Rushu?"

Jiang Rushu sized up the burly man with interest: "Oh? You actually know me? People who know me are usually either officials or bandits. Which one are you?"

The guilty burly man dared not hesitate. He struck first—unsheathing the large blade at his waist and chopping straight at the black-clad swordsman.

Jiang Rushu did not draw his sword. He angled his scabbard to block the other's blade, then pulled a small notebook from his chest: "Since you know me, I should get to know you properly—"

The burly man's face contorted with ferocity. He forcefully wrenched his blade against Jiang Rushu's scabbard, twisted his waist, and slashed horizontally as if to cut Jiang Rushu in two.

Jiang Rushu merely leapt backward, using the scabbard in his right hand to parry the attack while flipping through the booklet with his left, moving with lithe grace. His steps were unhurried, and his gaze never left the pages.

In the next moment his eyes narrowed slightly: "Water bandit Zhang Lin, around thirty years old, burly build, under seven chi in height, thinning hair, face like a dried date, scar on his left cheek shaped like a bent bow... Oh, only one hundred guan? Whatever, it's still a bounty—"

As the words left his mouth, the expression on the black-clad swordsman's face grew serious. With a twist of his wrist, his long sword flashed out of its sheath and slashed toward Zhang Lin.

The burly man froze at the touch and felt panic surge—he regretted provoking this guy; he stood no chance against Jiang Rushu!

But it was already too late. Jiang Rushu's blade had arrived. Forced to take the hit, the burly man was driven back blow after blow, ultimately defeated.

In this drama segment, even though there was a clear gap in strength between the two sides, it wasn't handled like many modern wuxia shows where the protagonist stands still and casually waves a sword to send out an invisible sword aura that defeats opponents, or floats around on wire work for show. Instead, it was a real, intense fight: from the burly man's increasingly strained expression and retreating steps to the protagonist's nimble, rigorous footwork, the audience could tangibly feel the difference between them.

That gap wasn't manufactured by a single knockout move. Rather, it was constructed gradually through the protagonist's poised, razor-sharp swordplay, making the expert image far more convincing.

Hemiao was completely absorbed in the plot. The back-and-forth sword exchanges were fluent fight choreography rarely seen in domestic entertainment these days. She didn't even notice when Mother He silently moved to sit on the couch and watch with her.

Father He, who had been reading in the study, rose and came over at the sound. He planted himself in the adjacent chair, hands behind his back, eyes fixed unblinkingly on the TV screen.

After dealing with Zhang Lin, Jiang Rushu didn't linger. He took Zhang Lin's head intending to submit it at the local magistrate's office for the reward. But just before leaving, the little girl, somehow finding courage, wrenched free from her mother's arms, hurried to Jiang Rushu, and put the copper coin on the ground before him.

Jiang Rushu paused, then chuckled softly. He picked up the coin, waved his hand casually, and shouldered the head as he jumped back to his black-canopied boat.

The boat continued along the river, but the scenery along the way was nothing like the idyllic water towns people usually imagined. Pedestrians were sparse on both banks. Shops along the bustling streets still had their doors wide open, but passersby hurried by or walked with shuffling, listless steps. What should have been a thriving market scene had dwindled into destitution.

As the camera slowly rose, the dilapidated landscape stretched downstream. The little boat receded into the distance until it became a speck, landing on the last character of the title—"Catcher"—as the three big characters "Thief Catcher" officially appeared on screen.

Only then did Hemiao relax a little and try to get more comfortable to watch the film. She turned her head and found both Mother He and Father He already sitting beside her.

Hemiao jumped: "You—"

"Shh—" Mother He put a finger to her lips, not taking her eyes off the screen. "Go pull the curtains over there, hurry—"

Hemiao: "…Okay."

She quickly drew the curtains and then zipped back to the couch.

The plot had advanced to several days later. Following the suspects listed in his little booklet, Jiang Rushu tracked down and captured the people on the wanted list, ultimately choosing a nearby magistrate's office to submit his heads for bounty.

But what Jiang Rushu hadn't expected was that Zhang Lin had been carrying an important token. The magistrate's office had been searching for Zhang Lin for days and were shocked to discover Zhang Lin had been killed by Jiang Rushu—and the token on him had vanished.

The clerk sitting in a chair signaled the nearby constables. The main gate of the magistrate's office, which had been wide open, slowly closed, and the constables even "thoughtfully" dropped the bar into place.

Jiang Rushu grew wary and tightened his grip on his long sword: "Clerk Ma, what do you mean by this?"

Clerk Ma smiled at Jiang Rushu. His cheeks were stuffed with flesh and his eyes nearly slit: "Ah, Jiang Hero, what are you afraid of? Come to the backyard, I'll give you the bounty."

Jiang Rushu narrowed his eyes and refused decisively: "People of the jianghu have too much blood on their hands and are coarse by nature. It's better not to enter your lordships' backyard and accidentally offend anyone. I hope you understand."

Clerk Ma's face immediately fell. Cold light flashed in his small beady eyes: "Then you leave it to us—"

At once, the surrounding constables with blades surged forward. They intended to execute Jiang Rushu on the spot!

Thus began a relentless pursuit and capture.