A Killing in the Night

Over the next two days.

Yang Jing went to the butcher's shop in the West Market every noon to buy two catties of horse meat.

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

His cutting technique grew much more practiced, though he often hacked the horse meat into ragged shreds. Fortunately, that did not stop him from eating it.

Every afternoon, Yang Jing also left half an hour early.

When Fourth Senior Brother Liu Maolin came to ask about it, Yang Jing merely said he had matters to attend to at home.

Hu Village, Wazi Township.

In a courtyard at the entrance to the village.

The December night wind swept flurries of snow against the window paper, yet not a trace of cold seeped inside.

This courtyard was an abandoned secondary residence belonging to the Ning Family. Though hardly grand, it was far more tightly sealed than an ordinary farmhouse. The windows were pasted with thick paper, and a small stove burned in the corner, steam rising from the wine pot warming atop it.

Inside the main room, five men sat around a square table, all wearing thick, short work clothes with tightly cinched cuffs.

Their leader, a man whose fleshy face squeezed his triangular eyes into narrow slits, was none other than Feng Lei, the notorious thug known throughout the surrounding villages.

He was holding a piece of braised beef and stuffing it into his mouth, his cheeks bulging. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, then he picked up his wine bowl and took a great gulp, liquor trailing down from the corners of his mouth.

Setting down his bowl, Feng Lei swept his gaze over the meat dishes on the table, looking rather pleased with himself. In times like these, only his younger female cousin's influence allowed him to live this comfortably off the Ning Family.

"Boss, looks like old Yang's family has given in. They're probably ready to sell their land as soon as Master Ning comes back. Are we still throwing filth on their door tomorrow?" a thin young man asked.

"Keep throwing it!" Feng Lei snorted coldly. "I hear they still want Master Ning to pay them more. Then we'll scare the guts out of them! Let's see if anyone in the Yang Family dares ask for more money after that!"

A man with short eyebrows sitting farther down the table sucked at his teeth, picked up a piece of rabbit meat, and stuffed it into his mouth. "Why don't we just take a few men over and smash their plow? Let them all starve when spring comes!"

"Idiot!" Feng Lei glared and snapped, "My cousin just sent word. Master Ning cares about keeping up appearances more than anything. We can't openly use force. But behind the scenes..."

He sneered, narrowing his triangular eyes. "We have to make them understand that if they don't listen to the Ning Family, if they don't listen to me, Feng Lei, there'll be bitter fruit waiting for them!"

A man beside him who looked like a scrawny monkey hastily chimed in. "You're right, Boss! The mistress is the apple of Master Ning's eye now. If we handle this beautifully, it won't just make her look good. You'll carry more weight with Master Ning too, won't you?"

Feng Lei gave a soft snort, his expression easing considerably. He raised his bowl and drained it. "At least you know how to talk. Tomorrow, go pour some water over their firewood pile. In the dead of winter, let's see what they'll burn to heat their bed."

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

Feng Lei put extra emphasis on "accidentally." He paused briefly, tapping his knuckles against the tabletop. "Wear them down little by little. Let's see how long they can hold out. By the time Master Ning comes back, we'll have ground every bit of spirit out of old Yang's family. Then they'll obediently hand over their land. We have to handle this without a single leak, so my cousin has something to boast about in front of Master Ning."

Feng Lei lifted his chin and glanced at his underlings. "If my cousin has standing with Master Ning, then I have standing with Master Ning. And only if I have standing with Master Ning can you live better, eat meat, and drink wine in times like these!"

"Yes, Boss!"

"Yes!"

The followers all hurried to voice their agreement.

The charcoal in the brazier crackled and spat sparks, lighting the five men's faces.

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

Though they had received food and other benefits from the Ning Family before, they had never had the chance to enjoy such a lavish meal.

Now that they finally had such a feast, all five ate and drank to their hearts' content!

"Brothers, drink! Nobody goes home sober!" Feng Lei raised his bowl and shouted, his swagger soaring to the clouds.

In the woods on that bitter night, beside the only dirt road outside Fenglou Village.

Yang Jing had been lying in wait for four days.

Wan moonlight filtered through the bare branches, making the frost at his temples gleam white. The chill clinging to his body had long since seeped into his skin.

Late that night, a burst of stumbling footsteps suddenly came from the distance.

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

During these days of watching from hiding, Yang Jing had discovered that Feng Lei drank almost every day, though he usually did not get very drunk.

Tonight, however, Feng Lei was clearly far drunker than on the previous days. His padded jacket hung open as he walked, humming an off-key tune.

His steps were unsteady, as though he were treading on cotton. Every few paces he swayed, even bumping into a tree trunk beside the road, but he merely chuckled twice and continued staggering toward home.

Something stirred in Yang Jing's heart, and a sharp glint flashed in his eyes. Here's my chance.

After Feng Lei swayed past, he followed soundlessly behind, like a shadow melting into the night.

He watched Feng Lei stagger up to the third courtyard at the village entrance, fumble for ages before finding the latch, and stumble inside. Then came a click-the sound of the gate being bolted from within.

Without hesitation, Yang Jing hurried around to the courtyard wall. The mud-brick wall was not particularly high. Taking a deep breath, he used the branches of an old pagoda tree beside it to vault nimbly over, landing with only a barely audible thud.

The courtyard was silent. Only the main room still showed a faint yellow glow; presumably Feng Lei had just gone inside.

Keeping close to the wall, Yang Jing moved beneath the window. He heard shoes being dragged off inside, followed by the sound of someone collapsing onto the bed. Then came heavy snoring that made even the window paper tremble faintly.

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

Yang Jing drew a deep breath, went to the door, and pushed it gently. It was not bolted, merely pulled to.

Holding his breath, he pushed the door open and entered. The room reeked of liquor.

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

Yang Jing moved toward the bedside one step at a time. The dagger slipped from his sleeve into his palm, its chill spreading along his fingertips.

His gaze was cold and sharp. As though he had practiced it a thousand times, he acted without the slightest hesitation. His left hand slammed down on Feng Lei's shoulder while his right gripped the dagger and slashed across the man's throat as swiftly as lightning.

"Hh..."

A muffled, breathy sound escaped Feng Lei's throat. His body convulsed once, then went still. Warm blood splashed onto the back of Yang Jing's hand, carrying a rusty tang.

Swish!

Without the slightest hesitation or wasted movement, Yang Jing drove the dagger into Feng Lei's windpipe. Though Feng Lei already appeared dead, Yang Jing still could not rest easy without striking again.

He pulled out the dagger and wiped it clean on the bedding beside him. Looking at Feng Lei, who now lay utterly lifeless on the bed, Yang Jing pressed his lips tightly together.

Then he quickly searched Feng Lei's body, pulling a bulging money pouch from inside the corpse's clothes. It weighed heavily in his hand.

With no time to examine it, he hefted it once and tucked it into his own clothes. Then he immediately turned and, as silently as he had come, slipped out through the door, climbed over the courtyard wall, and vanished into the thick darkness of the night.