Night Kill

For the next two days.

Every noon, Yang Jing went to the butcher shop in West Market to buy two jin of horse meat.

Before cooking it, he deliberately practiced cutting on the horse meat with his dagger.

His meat-cutting technique had grown much more practiced, though he often sliced the horse meat into a mush. Fortunately, it did not matter once it went into his stomach.

By afternoon, Yang Jing would also leave half an hour early.

When Fourth Senior Brother Liu Maolin came to ask, Yang Jing only said there was something to attend to at home.

Wazi Township, Hu Village.

Inside a courtyard at the village entrance.

December's night wind swept snow pellets against the window paper, yet not a trace of cold seeped inside.

This courtyard was one of the Ning Family's abandoned side residences. Though not particularly grand, it was far more tightly built than an ordinary farmer's home. The window paper was thickly pasted, a small stove burned in the corner, and the wine pot warming atop it gave off steaming heat.

Inside the main room, five men sat around a square table, all dressed in thick short jackets with their cuffs tightly bound.

At their head sat Feng Lei, the notorious local thug known throughout the villages within ten li—a man with a fleshy face squeezed around a pair of triangular eyes.

He was stuffing a piece of braised beef into his mouth, his cheeks bulging. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, then he lifted his wine bowl and took a fierce gulp, liquor running down from the corner of his mouth.

Setting down the bowl, Feng Lei swept his gaze over the meat and dishes on the table, his expression carrying a measure of smug satisfaction. In times like these, only through his cousin's favor could he live so well off the Ning Family.

"Big Brother, I think that old Yang Family has softened. Once Master Ning returns, they should be ready to sell their land. Are we still splashing filth on their doorstep tomorrow?" a gaunt young man asked.

"Keep splashing it!" Feng Lei snorted. "I heard they still want Master Ning to pay them more. Then scare the guts out of them. Let's see if anyone from the Yang Family dares bring up raising the price again!"

A man with short brows seated below him sucked at his teeth, picked up a piece of rabbit meat, and stuffed it into his mouth. "How about we just bring some men over and chop up their plow? Let them all starve to death when spring comes!"

"Idiot!" Feng Lei glared and barked, "My cousin just sent me word. Master Ning cares most about keeping up appearances, so we can't do anything openly violent. But in the dark..."

He sneered, his triangular eyes narrowing. "They need to learn that defying the Ning Family—defying me, Feng Lei—will bear no good fruit!"

A skinny, monkey-like man beside him hurriedly chimed in, "Big Brother is right! Madam is now the apple of Master Ning's eye. If we handle this beautifully, not only will Madam have glory on her face, but Big Brother, your weight before Master Ning will grow heavier too, won't it?"

Feng Lei gave a light snort, his expression easing considerably. He raised his wine bowl and drained it in one gulp. "At least you know how to talk. Tomorrow, go pour some water over their firewood stack. In the dead of winter, let's see what they use to heat their kang."

Setting down his wine bowl, Feng Lei continued, "Then keep watch by the well at the entrance of Yang Family Village. When Old Yang's people come to fetch water, 'accidentally' knock over their buckets."

Feng Lei placed extra emphasis on the words "accidentally." His voice paused slightly as his knuckles tapped the tabletop. "Grind them down bit by bit. Let's see how long they can hold out. By the time Master Ning comes back, the old Yang Family will have been worn down until they have no spirit left. Then they'll surely hand over their land obediently. Only if this is done without a drop leaking through will my cousin have something to boast of before Master Ning."

Feng Lei raised his chin high and glanced at his underlings. "If my cousin has face before Master Ning, then I have face before Master Ning. And if I have face before Master Ning, you'll live better too—you'll get to eat meat and drink wine in times like these!"

"Yes, Big Brother!"

"Yes!"

The lackeys all hurried to echo him.

The charcoal in the brazier crackled, bursting with sparks that lit the faces of the five men.

They ate and drank, utterly heedless of the famine and cold outside.

Though they had received some food and benefits from the Ning Family in the past, they had never had the chance to eat such a lavish meal.

Having finally gotten such a feast today, all five of them ate and drank to their hearts' content!

"Brothers, drink! We don't leave until we're drunk!" Feng Lei raised his wine bowl and shouted, his bold spirit soaring to the clouds.

Fenglou Village, in the woods beside the village's only dirt road, on a freezing night.

Yang Jing had been lying in wait for four days.

Bleak moonlight filtered through the bare branches, turning the frost at his temples white. The cold that clung to him had long since seeped into his skin.

Deep in the night, a set of stumbling footsteps suddenly came from afar.

Yang Jing quickly looked toward the sound, his pupils contracting slightly. "It's Feng Lei!"

These past few days, while hiding in the shadows, Yang Jing had discovered that Feng Lei drank almost every day, though he usually did not get very drunk.

But today, Feng Lei was clearly far drunker than he had been in previous days. His padded jacket hung open as he walked along, humming an off-key tune.

His steps floated as if he were walking on cotton. Every few paces, he swayed, even bumping into a tree trunk by the roadside. Yet he merely chuckled twice before staggering on toward home.

Yang Jing's heart stirred, and a sharp gleam flashed through his eyes—his chance had come.

After Feng Lei staggered past, he followed soundlessly behind him, like a shadow melted into the night.

He watched Feng Lei weave his way to the third courtyard at the village entrance, grope for the door bolt for quite some time, then stumble inside. A moment later came a click—the sound of the door being bolted from within.

Yang Jing did not hesitate. He quickly circled around to the courtyard wall. The rammed-earth wall was not very high. Taking a deep breath, he used the branches of the old locust tree beside it to lightly vault over. When he landed, he made only the faintest dull sound.

The courtyard was silent. Only the main house still glowed with a dim yellow light; Feng Lei had presumably just entered.

Yang Jing pressed himself against the base of the wall and moved beneath the window. From inside came the sounds of slippers dragging, then someone collapsing onto a bed, followed by heavy snores that made even the window paper tremble.

Yang Jing waited patiently for about the time it took an incense stick to burn. The snores grew heavier and murkier. Feng Lei was clearly fast asleep.

Yang Jing took a deep breath and walked to the door. He gently pushed it. It was not bolted, only left ajar.

Holding his breath, he pushed the door open and entered. The room was thick with the stench of alcohol.

By the moonlight filtering in through the window, he could see Feng Lei sprawled on the bed, drool still hanging from the corner of his mouth.

Yang Jing edged toward the bed step by step. The dagger slid from his sleeve into his palm, coldness spreading from his fingertips.

His gaze was cold and sharp. As though he had practiced it a thousand times, he did not hesitate in the slightest. His left hand slammed down on Feng Lei's shoulder while his right gripped the dagger and slashed across the man's throat like lightning.

"Ghk—"

A muffled gasp escaped Feng Lei's throat. His body convulsed violently once, then went still. Warm blood spattered across Yang Jing's hand, carrying a rusty, fishy stench.

Swish!

Without the slightest hesitation, Yang Jing drove the dagger into Feng Lei's windpipe. Though Feng Lei appeared to be dead already, Yang Jing still did not feel assured and struck again.

He pulled out the dagger and wiped it clean on the bedding beside him. Looking at Feng Lei on the bed, now utterly without breath, Yang Jing pressed his lips together.

Then he swiftly searched Feng Lei's body and pulled a bulging money pouch from the corpse's chest. It felt heavy in his hand.

He had no time to inspect it closely. After weighing it in his hand, he tucked it into his clothes, then immediately turned and left the room as silently as he had come. He climbed over the courtyard wall and vanished into the thick night.