Fat Catfish's tiny fins fanned up great currents.
Yang Martial Hall.
Dry, brittle yellow leaves skittered across the stone-paved ground, scraping out a rustling sound.
Crack.
With one step, Liang Qu crushed the fallen leaves. Fine dust drifted from the fragments as he carried a black cloth sack stuffed with Pufferfish spines, swung down from his horse, and found none of the apprentices who usually stood guard at the martial hall entrance.
"Strange. Where is everyone?"
He crossed the threshold into the courtyard and found it desolate.
The usual training equipment—wooden dummies, stone stools, and the like—was nowhere to be seen. Hu Qi and Xiang ChangSong were absent from the Martial Arts Field, and yellow dust hung thick in the air.
The entire martial hall felt hollow and empty.
A cold wind blew through.
How strange.
"Senior Brother Hu? Senior Brother Xiang?"
Liang Qu called out, but no one answered. Just as he was about to extend his senses—
"Ninth Master?"
An old man emerged from the backyard carrying a huge iron pot.
"Uncle Liu? Is it a holiday today? Why isn't there a single person in the martial hall?"
The villagers of Yi Xing Town called him Master Liang. Peers such as Li LiBo called him Water Bro, while neighbors like Uncle Chen called him A Shui.
But Ninth Master was a name only the old hands at the Yang Residence and martial hall used.
Liu Yan had cooked at the martial hall for over twenty years. He was especially skilled at braising meat; the meat came out tender and full of flavor, so delicious that one could eat two extra bowls of rice with it. Before Liang Qu went to Wolf Smoke, when he was still not well-off, he often came here to eat.
"Ninth Master, Yang Martial