The thick stench of blood had yet to disperse.
The old man's cloudy eyes turned toward the corner, and his face once again took on a kindly expression. As though the clean, efficient killings just now had been no more than swatting a few buzzing flies.
His withered fingers tapped the tabletop, producing two soft "tap, tap" sounds.
His eyes half-lidded.
He studied the young man seated at the table in the corner.
"Ninggu City..." he said with some emotion. "It really has become a prized morsel these days."
"Not only are the northern aristocratic families unwilling to let it go."
"They want to take it back."
"But these past few days, even the 'heroes' from the south have been rushing over here. They've sent quite a few people, hoping to take advantage of the chaos and do something."
"I never knew."
"That those people from the south had established themselves so deeply in the north."
"Heh heh."
Lowering his head, he looked at the remains by his feet and smiled. "Today, we even drew in the people from the North-South Chamber of Commerce. Even these merchants want to grab a share of the benefits."
The old man's voice was not loud.
Had he not been staring at Jiang Qiao the entire time, one might have thought he was talking to himself.
He slowly picked up the wine jug and poured himself a cup.
Then he took a light sip.
"Young man."
"All sorts of gods and demons are taking the stage. Which road did you come from?"
His tone was unhurried.
Yet that icy, rotting-corpse stench spread soundlessly like cold tentacles, winding around the edge of Jiang Qiao's table.
Jiang Qiao had just picked up a bite of food.
Smelling that foul odor, he had no choice but to