Seven days after meeting Fang Han, Meng Zhao and Fang Han gathered again. This time, however, Meng Zhao did not assume the identity of the mysterious man. Instead, he posed as the Masked Man's servant and, after using the Disguise Technique, made himself look like a middle-aged man of around thirty.
"Uncle Yang, this is the woman I told you about. She's only around twenty, has been married for four years, and has no children. Her husband is a compulsive gambler. Several times, he nearly gambled her away. Fortunately, she's clever enough to always wriggle free.
"But if this continues, sooner or later she'll come to no good.
"I think we can start with her. Perhaps we can take down Fang Zijun fairly easily!"
It was dusk, and the rhythm of the entire Kaiyan County town had begun to slow. Smoke curled from every household's cooking fires, lending the place an air of peaceful tranquility.
Fang Han pointed at a rather dilapidated courtyard on the outskirts of the town's western district. Most of those living here were ordinary commoners, even paupers. The environment was filthy and chaotic, and a pungent stench filled the air.
In the middle of the road lay glaringly visible patches of some unknown substance crushed into a soft mush, along with countless streams of foul, muddy water.
The place was truly worse than the countryside.
Sometimes, Meng Zhao wondered whether the people living here had all gone stupid. Survival itself was barely possible here; it was nothing but torture.
But if you were not a fish, how could you know the joy of fish?
As they spoke, a woman with her hair tied in a bun emerged from the courtyard.
She was about twenty years old. Her almond eyes were soft and lustrous, her brows delicately