第17章 孙家三兄弟

"Creak--"

The dilapidated wooden door let out a piercing groan as Jiang Feng stepped into the small cabin.

Borrowing the moonlight filtering through the window, he fumbled in the dark to find an oil lamp and ignited the bean-sized flame. As the dim, yellow halo slowly bloomed across the room, he finally saw the layout:

A few crude wooden cots, two pitch-black wooden cabinets standing against the wall, and a long-dried water vat tucked into the corner.

He reached out to touch a surface, and his fingertips came away coated in a thick layer of dust.

"It seems this place hasn't been lived in for a long time. The people who came before likely moved to the new cabins, leaving this small, broken-down shack to go to ruin."

Jiang Feng wasn't particular about his living arrangements; as long as it kept the wind and rain out and ensured his safety, it was enough.

He had even managed to live in that dog kennel of a shack back at the Medicine Hall, so this place was actually quite decent by comparison. He held the oil lamp aloft, about to head toward the wooden cot, when his footsteps came to an abrupt halt.

Something was wrong.

He lowered his head to stare at the floor, his brows slowly knitting together. Every piece of furniture in the room was covered in a layer of dust, yet the floor was strangely clean.

He squatted down and wiped his hand across the ground; sure enough, there was no dust. There was only one explanation for this.

"It seems someone was here before I arrived. And they didn't leave long ago."

He clearly remembered that before they arrived, this outpost had no one from the Medicine Hall guarding it. Whoever entered this room must have been an outsider.

He would have preferred to believe it was just a thief looking to swipe something of value.

But the intruder's actions didn't fit the logic of a thief at all. What kind of thief cleans up after themselves before leaving?

Therefore, this was no theft; it was a premeditated scouting mission.

If Jiang Feng hadn't been able to figure out what Fan Qingyang was up to before, he now had a rough idea.

"Fan Qingyang must have contacted outsiders to make a move on me here."

If it were just Fan Qingyang leading those eight apprentices to attack him, Jiang Feng wouldn't be afraid at all.

But the fact that the other party had hired outside help forced him to weigh the situation carefully. Who knew what kind of strength those outsiders possessed?

If a true martial artist came, his own meager skills at the sixth level of the Blood-Moving Realm would truly be insufficient.

However, upon second thought, he felt that possibility was unlikely. To hire a real martial artist to assassinate him would surely come at a high price.

Besides, in Fan Qingyang's eyes, he was nothing more than a useless apprentice who hadn't even reached the second level of the Blood-Moving Realm; it wasn't worth spending that much money.

Jiang Feng glanced at his status panel, then looked through the window at the cold moon in the sky, whispering:

"Hurry, time. Once I break through to the seventh level of the Blood-Moving Realm, the situation might not be so passive."

Meanwhile, in a dense forest not far from the outpost.

Fan Qingyang was huddled with three large, burly men, whispering and discussing something in low voices.

The three men looked five or six parts similar, all possessing thick brows, wide mouths, and prominent cheekbones. Their skin was dark and rough, the look of men who had spent their lives scrambling through the wilderness.

These three were the helpers Fan Qingyang had hired to ensure nothing went wrong—the Sun brothers, hunters renowned far and wide in Black Water Town.

"Boss Sun, can you guarantee that this will go off without a hitch?"

The eldest, Sun Bowei, was the most hulking of the three.

His shoulders were incredibly broad, and a black-lacquered ox-horn bow nearly as tall as a man was slung across his back. Standing there, he looked like an iron tower, his presence intimidating. An old scar ran diagonally from his brow bone to his cheekbone, looking like a hideous centipede coiled across his face.

He stared straight at the small cabin in the distance, his mouth slowly curling into a savage grin:

"Killing a piece of trash at the second level of the Blood-Moving Realm is no harder than killing a pheasant. You mentioned needing some special staging at the scene—that's a bit of a hassle, but it's nothing major."

Hearing this, Fan Qingyang smiled: "With your word, Boss Sun, I can rest easy."

As he spoke, he pulled a heavy little cloth bag from his robes and handed it over: "Boss Sun, here is ten taels of silver as a deposit. Once it's done, I will hand over the remaining half in full."

Sun Bowei reached out and gently pushed the silver back, shaking his head:

"Keep the silver. Exchange it for Blood-Qi Pills instead. A bottle of Blood-Qi Pills is twenty taels, isn't it? You're with the Medicine Hall; that shouldn't be hard for you to arrange."

Fan Qingyang's expression wavered; he truly couldn't make up his mind about this.

"Boss Sun, we agreed on the terms beforehand. Isn't it a bit underhanded to change your mind now?"

A savage grin appeared on Sun Bowei's face, the scar looking as if it had come to life, hideous and terrifying.

"Didn't you also make a last-minute request? A small, temporary change on my part shouldn't be a big deal."

Fan Qingyang was speechless. Subconsciously, he wanted to call off the operation, a tactic of retreating to advance.

But Sun Bowei seemed to see right through him. A palm the size of a fan landed directly on his shoulder, the knuckles exerting slight pressure—the force was heavy enough to make his shoulder blade creak.

"Brother Fan, my three brothers and I aren't your subordinates. Since the cooperation has begun, it must be carried through to the end."

Sun Bowei's tone was unhurried, yet it carried an irresistible threat.

"Besides, the three of us—two at the fifth level of the Blood-Moving Realm and one at the eighth—only asking for a bottle of Blood-Qi Pills for this trip? That price is not high at all."

The second brother, Sun Zhongheng, and the third, Sun Shumeng, also crowded in with savage expressions.

Fan Qingyang had never experienced such a situation, and his face turned pale.

These three weren't mountain hunters; they were bandits!

The sharp pain in his shoulder persisted. He gritted his teeth and ultimately swallowed the demand:

"Fine! But I can't give you the Blood-Qi Pills in advance. We'll settle that once it's done and we're back at the Medicine Hall."

Sun Bowei laughed, releasing the pressure and patting Fan Qingyang on the shoulder, not too hard and not too soft, as if comforting a sensible junior.

"No problem. Now, just wait and watch a good show."

A moment later, the lamp in the distant cabin went out.

Sun Bowei felt the time was right and signaled his two brothers. Sun Zhongheng and Sun Shumeng nodded, picked up their weapons, and silently crept toward the cabin.

The three brothers made their living by hunting; though their frames were burly, their footwork was extremely seasoned.

Their steps were light and agile, like two mountain cats closing in through the night, reaching the cabin without making a single sound.

Sun Zhongheng took a long, thin blowpipe from his robes and peered through a crack in the window.

They had scouted the location during the day and knew the position of the bed by heart.

Borrowing the faint moonlight, he saw a dark, curled-up figure on the innermost wooden cot.

He silently poked the blowpipe through the window crack, aimed at the dark shadow, and puffed out his cheeks. With a faint "shoo" sound, the needle struck the target firmly.