Yang Jing circulated a thread of internal qi and strode briskly toward the Inner City, his movements light and nimble, his aura restrained.
Infiltrating the Ironblood Gang tonight could hold hidden dangers.
Hai Guangfu might be deeply entangled with the Demon Cult, and the gang was bound to have numerous defenses in place. If Yang Jing slipped in rashly, he could easily overlook something.
On this trip back from the Profound Truth Sect, he had brought quite a few unusual items, all exchanged for at the Stewards' General Hall.
The Thin-Skin Mask tucked inside his robe was one of them. It could alter his appearance and conceal his identity.
But there were other things he had not brought along. He had left them in his room at the Yang Residence.
He was returning home to retrieve those items and give himself a few more safeguards for tonight's infiltration of the Ironblood Gang.
A cold wind was rising through the winter streets, making passersby pull their clothes tighter around themselves.
Yang Jing felt none of the chill as he hurried along.
In less than an hour, he reached the Yang Residence in the Inner City.
The residence's courtyard was elegant and swept spotless. Though its plants looked somewhat bleak in winter, it still held an air of warmth and peace.
As soon as he stepped through the courtyard gate, he saw his mother, Liu Cuiling, sweeping fallen leaves and lingering snow with a bamboo broom.
Yang Jing slowed his steps and approached her. "Mother, I'm back. I'm going to my room first."
Liu Cuiling stopped working and looked at her son. "Jing, you've only just come home. Take a rest. I'll make you something hot to eat."
Yang Jing smiled and shook his head. "Don't trouble yourself, Mother. I still have