Zhang Biao Arrives

Liu Wanwan was a clever woman. How could Fang Yuan have suddenly become capable of bringing back a wild boar all by himself?

As she strung all the clues together, she had already guessed seven or eight parts out of ten.

That wild boar had probably not been hunted entirely by Fang Yuan himself. More likely, he had picked up prey someone else had wounded while pursuing it—or perhaps... cut in and stolen the prize.

She did not blame Fang Yuan in the slightest.

She had absorbed the rules of the mountains from childhood, and they had always carried a measure of cruelty. Before prey fell, who it belonged to was never certain.

She was only worried...

What worried her was not who had reason on their side, but what if the matter blew up and the other party refused to let it go?

Anyone who could wound such a huge wild boar had to be an experienced, numerous team of hunters—not people to be trifled with.

Though her husband had changed lately, grown stronger and more decisive, he was still only one man.

Two fists could not beat four hands; even a hero could not withstand a crowd.

If they traced it back and came looking for them... Liu Wanwan simply did not dare imagine the consequences.

By then, it would probably not be as simple as placating Old Madam Chen with a piece of meat.

At best, they would lose all their money and possessions. At worst... she remembered the armed brawls that had broken out in the village over hunting grounds and prey, and could not help shivering.

She remembered hearing about the armed brawls that had broken out in the village over hunting grounds and prey, and could not help shivering.

During last autumn's hunt, the Old Wang Family on the western slope and the Li Family from the rear gully had nearly come to blows over a half-grown wild boar.

At first, they had only cursed and shoved each other. But before two sentences had passed, Old Wang had snatched up the chopping knife from his back.

The flat of the blade landed on a Li Family boy's arm with a clang, and a huge swelling rose up at once.

Seeing this, the Li Family's eyes reddened too. The men charged forward with wooden forks and shoulder poles, while the women grabbed stones from the ground and hurled them into the other side's crowd.

It was only when the Clan Elder arrived with others that they forcibly pulled the two tangled families apart.

But by then, Old Wang's second son had already had his thigh pierced by a wooden fork, blood soaking clear through his trouser leg.

Even earlier, two groups from neighboring villages had fought over a prime hunting ground at the foot of the mountain and actually brought out hoes and sickles.

In the end, one person had his ribs broken, another lost an eye, and the two families became mortal enemies. Even now, when they met on the road, they would not exchange a single word.

If a conflict truly broke out over this bit of meat, who knew whether something like that would happen again?

She opened her mouth, wanting to voice her fears, wanting to ask Fang Yuan what had really happened and whether he had left behind any loose ends.

But when she saw his calm, steady manner, as though everything was firmly in his grasp, the words on her lips went back down.

Since he did not say anything, he naturally had his reasons. If she rashly pressed him, she might instead disrupt his thoughts.

He was now the pillar of this household. She should trust him.

The little sweetness and warmth they had only just tasted seemed to stand on the edge of a crumbling cliff.

Where people prospered, trouble followed; where families grew rich, envy gathered. She had understood that since childhood.

Fang Yuan seemed to sense her silence and unease. He turned around and walked to the kitchen door, looking at his wife's faintly furrowed brow and her back filled with worry.

He did not explain the wild boar's exact origins. He merely said in a calm yet resolute voice, "Don't be afraid. I'm here."

Night fell, and the cold wind howled.

Inside the earthen house, the oil lamp glowed dimmer than usual.

Fang Yuan lay down fully clothed, the sharpened chopping knife within reach by the bed. Cold metal gleamed faintly in the darkness.

His breathing was steady, yet his senses remained alert, listening for the slightest unusual movement outside.

Little Bean Sprout curled up beside her sister-in-law, seemingly sensing the heavy atmosphere in the house, so unlike before.

Instead of quickly falling asleep as usual, her large eyes blinked in the darkness as she asked softly, "Brother, are there bad people?"

Fang Yuan turned onto his side and chuckled softly through the curtain. "What bad people? Go to sleep. Once Brother gets even stronger, I'll bring you meat every day."

His tone was easy, carrying a reassuring strength.

Little Bean Sprout gave an "Mm," burrowed deeper into her sister-in-law's arms, and finally slowly closed her eyes.

Once Little Bean Sprout had fallen soundly asleep, Fang Yuan still had no trace of drowsiness. He quietly rose, took up the chopping knife, and went into the courtyard.

The snow had long since stopped. Cold moonlight spilled across the snow-covered ground, turning everything around him a bleak white.

He did not light a lamp. Beneath the moonlight, he raised the chopping knife once more.

This time, his movements were no longer mere practice. They carried a sense of release and vigilance, and the wind of his blade grew sharper still.

After chopping for a while, he casually hauled over the firewood he had only half-split during the day. His hand rose and the blade fell; with several sharp cracks,

the logs as thick as bowls were cleanly split into neat pieces of firewood.

It seemed that only this solid, tangible feeling of holding power in his hands could suppress the restlessness stirred by the hidden threat in his heart.

Just then, the courtyard gate was gently pushed open. Liu Wanwan entered carrying a water bucket, having just returned from the well at the village entrance.

During the day, there were too many idle villagers around. She worried they would surround her with questions, so drawing water at night was quieter.

Besides, with Fang Yuan by her side, she did not need to fear even the darkest night.

Her face was somewhat pale now, and a hint of panic filled her eyes. She set down the water bucket and hurried to Fang Yuan's side, lowering her voice.

"Husband, at the village entrance... Hou San's cousin, Zhang Biao, has returned!"

Fang Yuan paused, his gaze sharpening. "Oh?"

"He's at Hou San's courtyard, and a whole crowd has gathered!" Liu Wanwan said urgently.

"They say he wants to recruit a few clever, obedient hands from the village to work with him in the city. Food and lodging are included, and there's wages too! Lots of people are tempted and crowding around to ask about it!"

She paused, lowering her voice further, worry threaded through it.

"I also saw... those hooligans who used to run around with Hou San were there too, fawning over Zhang Biao. But Zhang Biao's expression didn't look very good..."

Fang Yuan's eyes flickered. Zhang Biao had returned? And he was recruiting workers at a moment like this? Thoughts raced through his mind.

Hou San's death might well have drawn him here. He had to go see what was happening.

"I'll go take a look," Fang Yuan said in a low voice.

He tucked the chopping knife back into his waistband, straightened his clothes, and headed toward Hou San's house.

The closer he got to Hou San's house, the louder the voices became.

Sure enough, quite a few villagers had gathered outside that dilapidated courtyard, most of them young and strong, their faces filled with anticipation and ingratiating smiles.

When many of them saw Fang Yuan approaching, they took the initiative to greet him.

"Brother Yuan's here?"

"Fang Yuan, did you hear that Master Zhang is hiring too?"

Their tones carried a strange warmth, even a hint of fawning, unlike before.

Fang Yuan understood at once. News that his family had come into money and could afford meat had spread, bringing the most immediate change.

The villagers had begun to instinctively think more highly of him—or at least, they no longer dared look down on him so easily.

He gave a faint nod in reply, his gaze passing through the crowd toward the center of the courtyard.

There stood a lean, capable-looking man in Green Fitted Clothes, around thirty years old.

His temples bulged slightly, his eyes were sharp, and every glance he cast carried an oppressive air, utterly unlike the timid villagers around him.

It was Zhang Biao.

Before him, the hooligans who had once followed Hou San were gathered around him with bowed heads and bent backs, chattering all at once, their faces full of flattery and fear.

Zhang Biao seemed to grow impatient with their words. He suddenly gave a cold snort. Without any visible preparation, he merely flicked and shoved his hand!

The movement was so fast it was almost impossible to see!

"Ah!"

"Thud!"

The two hooligans nearest him were like men struck by a charging wild ox, crying out as they staggered backward.

At last, they landed heavily on their backsides in the snow, baring their teeth in pain and unable to get up for a long while.

The surroundings fell silent at once. All the villagers had been cowed by the terrifying strength Zhang Biao displayed so casually, and none dared even breathe loudly.

Zhang Biao coldly swept his gaze over the two groaning hooligans on the ground. His voice was not loud, but it carried a chill.

"Stop playing tricks with me. How exactly did Hou San die? If I hear one more lie, next time it won't be as simple as taking a fall!"

The hooligans were frightened out of their wits. Scrambling and crawling, they dropped to their knees in the snow and knocked their heads like pounding garlic.

"Master Zhang, spare us! Master Zhang, spare us!"

"Third Brother... Third Brother really drank too much and fell—fell to his death!"

"Yes, yes, yes! We saw it with our own eyes! The snow was heavy and the road was slippery that day. He came out to piss, lost his footing, and smashed his head against a rock!"

"It's absolutely true! We wouldn't dare lie to you, Master Zhang!"

They insisted Hou San had died by accident. Their voices were filled with terror, and they did not seem to be pretending.

Zhang Biao narrowed his eyes and scrutinized them, as though trying to find a flaw in their faces. But in the end, he merely snorted coldly and did not question them further.

Perhaps he did not believe them, but for now, he apparently did not intend to investigate any deeper.

Outside the crowd, Fang Yuan took it all in, gaining a more direct understanding of Zhang Biao's strength.

His attacks were decisive, his strength overwhelming—he was far beyond the likes of Hou San.

At the same time, Fang Yuan secretly let out a breath. For the moment, Hou San's death appeared to have been perfectly disguised.

But when his gaze happened to meet Zhang Biao's sharp eyes in midair, Fang Yuan could sense that the other man had noticed him, this unfamiliar face.

There was a hint of scrutiny in Zhang Biao's gaze.

Fang Yuan remained calm and casually looked away.