The young man in the yellow robe turned his head to stare at the lifeless body of Mu Xiu Quan. It took him a while to fully grasp the situation.
For no apparent reason, he had managed to provoke two major sects—Tang Sect and Xing Yun Manor—in just one night.
He sighed.
At his young age, sighing wasn’t something he should have been doing.
His experience in the martial world was still too limited. The true nature of people in the martial world—he had yet to understand.
Looking around, his eyes filled with confusion. Who had thrown the short spear? Since they had intervened twice, why hadn’t they revealed themselves?
Wherever his gaze fell, all he saw were the distant, shrinking faces of a dozen or so bystanders. Under his piercing gaze, their expressions recoiled further.
When he turned back, he saw his beloved dog still lying on the ground. His childhood companion, who had accompanied him through thick and thin, was now separated from him by life and death. In that moment, he felt as though he was the only one left in this vast world, utterly alone.
Gently walking over to his dog's side, he softly instructed, "Shopkeeper, please take the trouble to bury it. Be careful, though—it’s poisoned. Avoid touching its body."
With a flick of his right hand, a large silver ingot landed on the counter with a crisp “thud.”
As he lowered his head, a single tear fell onto the cold ground.
The plump shopkeeper couldn’t help but sigh as well. “Young master, don’t worry. I’ll have the workers carry it to the back, and once the rain stops, we’ll bury it on the hill behind the courtyard.” He called for several attendants, who quickly found some wooden planks to move the dog’s body.
When the young man in the yellow robe turned back around, he noticed that the frail boy had disappeared amidst the chaos. He let out a soft “Huh?” and furrowed his delicate brows.
As he searched, he finally caught sight of a small figure sneaking towards the courtyard gate, moving cautiously under the flickering candlelight. The boy was clearly trying to escape amidst the commotion.
Just as he was about to give chase, the boy let out a sharp cry of pain. With a thud, he tumbled backward, as though he had run into something at the gate.
A steed with a mane of blue-green hair galloped into the courtyard like a whirlwind. Behind it came a group of over a dozen constables.
The rider on the blue-maned horse sat arrogantly, shouting before even dismounting:
“Old Cai, what are you doing sitting indoors on a rainy night like this? Have your legs stopped working? My men have been soaking in the rain for an hour now—why haven’t you prepared ginger tea and hot water yet? —Huh, you little wretch! Are you blind, running straight into my horse? Do you have a death wish?”
The plump shopkeeper, Cai, forced a laugh as he hurriedly came out to greet the rider, bowing repeatedly. But his smile froze on his face, looking even more miserable than a cry. Truly, he had faced far too much misfortune that night, and had already forced himself to smile far too many times.
“Ah, so it’s none other than Chief Officer Feng from the Xiang Yang Prince’s Mansion—Lord Feng himself! Lord Feng, you visited my humble inn just this morning, and I never imagined you’d return so soon. I was just about to report to the authorities, but here you are! Truly, you must be a living deity, knowing what’s to come before it happens!”
“What? Report to the authorities? Old Cai, I, Feng Shao, am a dignified Chief Officer of the Prince’s Mansion. These past few days, I’ve been running myself ragged chasing the prince’s wanted criminals. And you come to me with trifling matters? Chickens and garlic scraps (a colloquial expression for trivialities)? Do you know how much trouble you’re causing me?”
“Lord Feng, it’s no trifling matter—there’s been murder. Ten, maybe more, lives taken!”
With his chest puffed and belly sticking out, Officer Feng dismounted from his horse. A frightened waiter scurried out into the rain to lead the horse to the stable.
0 Comments