After the fierce battle at West Lake that night, Ren Yingying, Linghu Chong, Ren Woxing, and Xiang Wentian split up with their subordinates, disguised themselves, and fled south, making it to the vicinity of Guangxin Prefecture.
They had no choice but to run!
Ren Woxing had been arrogant, domineering, and murderous in his day, so he had many enemies. There were even plenty of them within the Sun Moon Order. Faced with an enemy force that claimed to number in the tens of thousands and was converging from every direction in a mighty tide—its numbers dozens of times greater than those who had once pursued the lecher Tian Boguang—they had no better option than to flee in disarray.
See?
At noon on the third day, the bitter aroma of rough tea drifted through a teahouse beneath the shade of a locust tree on the outskirts of Guangxin Prefecture.
At that moment, Ren Yingying sat in a corner with a veiled hat on her head, exposing only half of her travel-worn face. Her fingertips kept unconsciously rubbing the silver-threaded clasp on the hilt of the slender sword at her waist, as though she were ready to spring up at any moment and fight the passersby around her.
Linghu Chong, meanwhile, was much more relaxed. He was stabbing at the bowl of plain noodles with his bamboo chopsticks and wolfing them down, scarcely caring as broth splashed onto the lapels of his coarse cloth robe.
Ren Woxing sat squarely on a bench, with three or four empty tea bowls piled before him. His beard was a tangled mess, and there was even noodle broth on it, but he paid no attention. He merely stared, eyes wide as bells, at the caravans coming and going along the distant highway.
"!!"
"They're here!"
He