Trouble

The next day, at noon.

The vicious sun hung overhead, scorching the great earth.

The tavern's back courtyard was like a steamer. The dry air was thick with the mingled smells of dust, sweat, and wood shavings.

The laborers had just set down their work and were about to head for the kitchen to rest for a moment and find something to eat.

Then they saw the proprietor, Zhang Deqing, approaching with his brows tightly furrowed and a grim expression.

"Stop! Put down whatever's in your hands and come with me to the front hall!"

The crowd looked at one another, utterly baffled, but no one dared ask another question.

They silently formed a line and, with some unease, followed behind the proprietor as they shuffled through the corridor toward the front hall.

Jiang Qinghe vaguely sensed that something was amiss. He casually leaned his iron axe in the shadows at the base of the wall, then stepped forward and took his place at the end of the line.

The moment they entered the front hall, an invisible pressure rushed at them.

Everyone's eyes were drawn involuntarily toward a figure standing beside the counter with his hands clasped behind his back.

He was a man in his early thirties, dressed in tight-fitting black martial attire that outlined a body brimming with explosive strength.

Unfortunately, his face was somewhat long and narrow—he looked exactly like a donkey.

A curved saber hung at his waist. Branded onto the iron ring at the end of its hilt was an emblem of crossed blade and axe.

It was the mark of the Iron Saber Gang, which occupied the northwest of Lin'an County.

Beside the donkey-faced man stood a plump woman.

She wore gaudy silk clothes and was half-covering her face with a handkerchief as she tearfully complained to the man in a shrill voice.

"Cousin! My useless husband has been missing for days! I've searched for everyone I could possibly ask, but there hasn't been a scrap of news."

The fat woman clutched the donkey-faced man's sleeve tightly.

"I know... you and my useless husband, Qiu San, had some unpleasantness between you before, and there's a knot in your heart."

She paused and secretly glanced at her cousin's expression. Seeing that he remained impassive, she grew anxious and began to wield morality as a weapon.

"For the sake of our family ties, help me just this once! I'm begging you!"

As she spoke, the fat woman made as if to kneel.

The donkey-faced man—Hall Master Liao Hu of the Iron Saber Gang—was clearly extremely unwilling to meddle in this mess.

Even if he and Qiu San had never clashed before he rose to prominence, the life or death of such a scoundrel would still have been beneath his notice.

But with the fat woman crying and begging before everyone while waving the banner of kinship, he found it difficult to refuse outright.

A complicated expression of annoyance and forced patience surfaced on his face.

"Hall Master Liao!"

Zhang Deqing immediately put on a fawning smile and hurried in small steps to Liao Hu, bowing slightly.

He pointed at the laborers lined up behind him.

"The people you wish to question are all here. These are the hands who have spoken with Steward Qiu or dealt with him in recent days."

As Liao Hu's cold gaze swept over them, every laborer fell silent as a cicada in winter. They instinctively drew in their necks and scarcely dared breathe.

Jiang Qinghe's heart tightened as well!

From what this fat woman had said, Qiu San's wife was actually the cousin of an Iron Saber Gang hall master?

"However... judging by Liao Hu's demeanor, he seems disgusted and impatient with both Qiu San and this so-called cousin. Perhaps things aren't as serious as they seem."

Jiang Qinghe calmed down, his mind racing as he recalled the scene of killing Qiu San that night.

That run-down little courtyard in the northwest corner had abandoned, vacant houses on three sides. Weeds grew rampant, and there hadn't been so much as a ghostly shadow around.

Besides, it had already been late at night. West Street was sparsely traveled even during the day because the gangs fought there so fiercely, and no one came out at night. Who would wander around for no reason?

Though the fighting in the courtyard had been intense, it had not lasted long. With the courtyard walls in between, the sounds surely had not carried far.

"Fortunately, I didn't act in those crowded mansions and narrow alleys in the city center. Otherwise, no matter how small the disturbance, it would probably have alerted the neighbors long ago."

After running through it all, Jiang Qinghe felt somewhat reassured.

He stood meekly at the edge of the crowd, blending into the group of frightened and uneasy laborers.

At that moment, Liao Hu gave a cold snort.

"After the tavern closed two days ago, did any of you see Qiu San?"

Hearing this, everyone grew even more nervous. They exchanged glances, shook their heads one after another, and murmured their replies over each other.

"No... didn't see him."

"This one went home after finishing up that night..."

"This one didn't see Steward Qiu either..."

Just then, one of the laborers edged forward a few steps and tremblingly pointed at Jiang Qinghe.

"M-Milord, some days ago, when Steward Qiu was handing out wages, he had an argument with him. They even came to blows."

Hearing this, Jiang Qinghe cursed his bad luck inwardly.

That dog! Of all the pots not to open, he had to pry open this one.

At that moment, he could clearly feel Liao Hu's cold gaze settling on him.

It carried scrutiny, suspicion, and a trace of ruthless killing intent.

In an instant, several thoughts passed through Jiang Qinghe's mind.

He raised his head. His face remained calm, without a trace of panic, while a hint of incomprehension and confusion showed in his eyes.

"In reply to you, milord, Steward Qiu was busy that day and made a few mistakes in the accounts. This one was anxious and argued with him for a few words. My words were indeed somewhat offensive, but..."

Jiang Qinghe changed tack, his tone becoming firm.

"That night, this one was responsible for cleaning up the back courtyard and did not leave until the end of the Hour of the Pig. By then, the tavern had long been locked and boarded up. As for where Steward Qiu went, this one truly does not know. After leaving, this one has never seen him again."

Before Liao Hu could react, the fat woman beside him let out a wail.

"It was him!"

As she spoke, she bared her teeth and brandished her claws, lunging forward to grab Jiang Qinghe by the collar.

"Cousin! It must have been him! He's the one who harmed my husband! Hurry and seize him! Seize him and torture him fiercely—beat him half to death, beat him until he tells the truth!"

Jiang Qinghe's pupils contracted slightly. A woman's sixth sense truly is terrifying... I absolutely can't let this shrew get close enough to claw at me, or the situation could easily spiral out of control.

He turned sideways and slipped half a step away, causing the fat woman to pounce on empty air.

"Ah—!"

The fat woman let out a brief cry as her grasping claws found nothing. Her huge body lurched forward from momentum, and she immediately lost her balance.

Before everyone's astonished eyes, she fell with a thud like an enormous ball of flesh, sprawling face-down on the ground like a dog eating filth.

"Pfft..."

Someone in the crowd seemed unable to hold it in and let out an extremely faint laugh, only to stifle it at once.

Liao Hu looked at his cousin, who lay on the ground groaning and making a complete spectacle of herself. The disgust in his eyes nearly overflowed.

Even his donkey face had reddened somewhat. No matter how much he detested Qiu San's family, this fat woman was still his cousin.

Seeing her fall so disgracefully before everyone made him lose face at once.

"You brat, who told you to dodge?!"

His gaze swept toward Jiang Qinghe, ruthlessness flashing in his eyes.

The next moment, Liao Hu suddenly shot out his right hand and viciously grabbed at Jiang Qinghe's shoulder blade.

Considerable force was concealed within that grab. If an ordinary person took such a blow, their tendons and bones would likely be broken, and they would need more than a hundred days of bed rest before recovering.

Every hair on Jiang Qinghe's body stood on end. Driven by instinct, he was about to raise his hand to block, exposing his own strength.