The Dying Old Man

In fact, Wang Xian hadn't seen how the old man had arrived at all.

Whether he'd climbed over the wall or dropped from the sky didn't seem to matter to him.

The important question was, who was this old man? Was he an elder of Dragon City? Was he the second assassin sent by the city lord?

But the old man ignored him. He walked straight into the reception hall, circled Wang Xian twice, then sniffed hard.

He let out a chuckle.

He sat down opposite Wang Xian and poured himself a cup of wine.

He savored a mouthful of wine and a bite of meat.

Wang Xian rubbed his eyes and smiled. "All right, who are you? You sneak into my courtyard in the middle of the night. What are you here for?"

He wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him, or if he'd simply seen wrong.

An old man had crept in during the middle of the night, said nothing, and sat right in front of him to eat and drink.

The last time something like this had happened was outside Lu City. A man had pretended to be drunk and tried to scheme against him, only to drink three cups of poisoned wine and end up somewhere between life and death.

What did the old man who'd come tonight want?

The night was long, and he had nothing better to do. In an instant, his drowsiness vanished.

Just like when he'd run into Little Xiangxiang and that old man in the wilderness, Wang Xian suddenly found himself intrigued.

Whether you're an elder of Dragon City or an assassin sent to kill me, I don't care.

You dared to drink my wine? I'll make sure you don't even know how you died.

The old man smiled.