Eleven dead men lay on the ground: ten mercenaries and Liu Wenyuan. Every one of them had been killed in a single move.
"Sir, are you all right?"
Lin Taichu shook his head.
Zhao Feng directed the guards to dispose of the bodies. The ground of the Desolate Valley was covered in blood, the sand soaked through with it, sticking to their feet when they stepped on it.
Lin Taichu rode back to Luofeng City. Zhou Jin glided alongside him on his sword, while Feng Tie walked at the very back, clutching that Storage Bag in his hands and opening it now and then to take a look, terrified that even a single thing might be missing.
When they returned to the Zhao Family estate, Zhao Huai was already waiting in the front hall. Seeing that the cloth wrapped around Lin Taichu's left arm had turned red again, his expression shifted.
"The wound opened again?"
"It did. It's nothing serious."
Zhao Feng took fresh bandages and Gold Trauma Medicine from the Storage Bag and rewrapped Lin Taichu's wound.
Zhao Huai looked at Zhou Jin, cupped his fists, and gave a deep bow.
"Senior Zhou, before, my horizons were too shallow. I thought your yearly pay of fifty thousand Spirit Stones was too expensive. For what happened today, I apologize to you."
Zhou Jin sat in a chair with one leg crossed over the other and waved a hand.
"What apology? You spend money to hire me, and I do work for you. That's as right and proper as heaven and earth. There's nothing to apologize for."
Zhao Huai straightened, the expression on his face very complicated. Lin Taichu finished being bandaged, walked over to the table, sat down, poured a cup of water, and drank it.
"The matter with the