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The same thought flashed through the minds of the two straw-cloaked figures.

The next instant, another thunderous tremor rolled in from the horizon, and for a moment, both men lost their hearing.

A fine, dense sound of cloth being sliced apart rang out, only to vanish beneath the torrential rain. Two heads, still connected to their bamboo hats, rolled across the ground. Blood dyed the puddles red, then, in the briefest span of time, was diluted and dissolved by the splashing rain until it turned clear again. Only two headless corpses crashed to the ground.

The shadow standing before the Chen residence gate gave a disdainful sneer. He stepped forward with his right foot, and his entire body strangely vanished from where he stood, as though he had never appeared at all...

Within the Chen residence, in the courtyard housing the Spirit Hall, the lame old man stood beneath the eaves before the door like a statue, both hands braced on the severed half of a pointed spear. He remained silent, his single eye level, as though waiting for something.

A rapid patter of footsteps approached. The lame old man's remaining eye suddenly widened into a perfect circle, astonishing killing intent erupting from within. As both hands clenched the broken spear shaft, his knuckles bulged and blue veins throbbed. He cursed under his breath, "Those beasts! When the old master was still alive, he merely gave them a small punishment as a warning. Who would have thought his painstaking goodwill would all come to nothing? Now they even want to kick a man when he's down and wipe us out to the last! Damn them!"

Amid his fury, the lame old man could not help but feel a measure of relief. Fortunately, fortunately Meng Zhao had come tonight, bringing with