Finally Cleared It All Out

After washing up, Feng Chen went to the kitchen.

The oil lamp on the stove cast a dim yellow glow. When he lifted the pot lid, half a wild chicken and two bowls of coarse-grain rice sat covered by plates, the rims of the bowls still warm!

Lin Qing'er had saved them for him, keeping them warm over the remaining embers.

He smiled and brought the food out.

The chicken had been kept warm by the stove's lingering heat for half the night; with one pinch of his chopsticks, the meat fell from the bone. Every grain of the coarse rice was soft and sticky.

He finished quickly. Nothing remained of the half chicken but its frame of bones, and he scraped the two bowls of rice clean.

After eating, he returned to his room and changed into a gray linen short shirt, its cuffs and hem neatly fitted.

He then pulled out his woodcutting knife. Its blade had been polished bright, the edge glinting with a thin chill.

He tucked the knife at his waist and reached the bedroom door. Pushing it open a crack, he saw moonlight leaking through holes in the window paper. Lin Qing'er lay curled on her side beneath the bedding, breathing evenly and sleeping deeply.

She had probably waited too long for him to finish cultivating and could no longer hold on.

Feng Chen did not wake her.

Dealing with Liu Dagang would not take much time. He would go quickly and return quickly.

He gently pulled the courtyard gate shut, followed the moonlight onto the mountain path, and headed toward Green Mountain Village.

Activating the Perfect Basic Movement Technique, he stepped over fallen leaves and scattered stones as lightly as a cat, raising only the faintest whisper of wind.

Liu Dagang's home was the only brick-and-tile house in Green Mountain Village. Its courtyard walls stood high, and its black-lacquered gate was especially conspicuous beneath the moonlight.

The village was as silent as an ancient well.

Feng Chen first pressed against the wall and circled the place, confirming the layout: the main hall sat in the center, with the kitchen and storage room on the left, the bedrooms on the right, and side rooms and a livestock shed in the rear courtyard.

The only trouble was that dog—a large-framed yellow dog usually tied beneath the courtyard wall, baring its teeth at any stranger.

It had chased him before, tearing a hole in his trouser leg that had yet to be mended.

He went around to a corner of the side wall and climbed onto the wall using the shadow of a crooked locust tree.

The bluestone slabs in the courtyard gleamed pale. The big yellow dog was dozing in a corner.

The moment he shifted his position, the dog abruptly opened its eyes. Its ears pricked up, and its copper-bell eyes stared straight at the top of the wall.

Feng Chen let go and dropped down, his feet nearly soundless.

With a bark, the dog lunged at him. A yellow blur flashed by, its fangs gleaming white beneath the moonlight.

But he was faster!

The Perfect Basic Movement Technique had already been unleashed the instant he landed. With a twist and shift of his feet, he was at the dog's side, drawing his knife with his right hand and slashing out.

Ding dong, Basic Blade Technique proficiency increased by one.

The blade flashed through a short arc, cleaving precisely into the dog's neck.

Crack!

The dog's head rolled two feet away. Its body collapsed to the ground, limbs twitching as blood gushed from its neck cavity across the bluestone slabs.

Feng Chen gripped his knife and looked at the dog, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.

This dog had not only chased him. It had bitten quite a few villagers who came here on business, yet Liu Dagang had treasured it like a jewel. Now it had been dealt with alongside its master.

Movement came from inside the house.

"What's going on?" A middle-aged man's voice sounded, hoarse from having just been awakened.

"Old man, get up and take a look. The dog barked." Wang Household's voice was rough and impatient.

The oil lamp lit up, and the door was pulled open.

Feng Chen swiftly pressed himself against the wall beside the main hall entrance. He slowed his breathing until it was long and silent, his entire body blending into the shadows beneath the eaves.

More than ten breaths later, the door creaked open.

Wang Household stepped out first. Bloated in figure and with her hair hanging loose, she held up the oil lamp and squinted into the courtyard, muttering under her breath.

Liu Dagang followed close behind, bare-chested beneath a draped outer garment. His face was full of flesh, his brows furrowed, and his eyes had yet to adjust to the darkness.

A chill flashed through Feng Chen's eyes. With a kick of his feet, he shot forward.

The short knife plunged directly into the lower side of Wang Household's neck, so fast that she had no time to react.

The oil lamp fell. Lamp oil splashed across the ground, and the flame leaped up before going out.

Her mouth opened and closed without making a sound. Her eyes went wide as her body crumpled onto the threshold.

"Who are you?!"

Liu Dagang staggered back, slamming into the doorframe.

Under the moonlight, a figure in a gray short shirt with his face covered by a mask stared coldly at him, as though looking at a dead man.

Before he could finish speaking, Feng Chen had already pulled the knife from Wang Household's body and stabbed it into Liu Dagang. The blade forced its way through the gap between his ribs and sank to the hilt.

A gurgling sound came from Liu Dagang's throat as he slid down the doorframe. His fat body crashed onto the threshold with a creak.

Both hands clutched his wound as blood gushed through his fingers. Lying on his back, he watched the masked man squat before him.

"Who exactly are you? We have no grievances or grudges. I can give you money!"

His voice trembled, the flesh on his face quivering. He tried to brace himself and crawl backward, but he had no strength left.

"No grievances or grudges?"

Feng Chen lowered his voice, cold as if the words had been squeezed through clenched teeth. "I'm merely a good man enforcing justice on Heaven's behalf."

"A good man? How can a good man kill people?!" Liu Dagang struggled desperately, his nails scraping against the bluestone with a piercing screech. "Spare me... I was wrong, I was wrong!"

His voice changed from a hoarse shout into a plea, and there was even a glimmer of tears in his eyes.

"Now you know you were wrong? Too late."

He stood and swung his blade down.

The last glimmer of pleading in Liu Dagang's eyes vanished, replaced by despairing hatred.

Panting heavily, he raised his head and glared viciously at Feng Chen. "You will die! My son, Tiger Liu, will definitely avenge me!"

"Tiger Liu?"

Feng Chen's knife paused for an instant. "I killed him long ago."

Liu Dagang's eyes suddenly widened. Extreme shock appeared on his fleshy face, and his lips trembled violently.

"What... you killed Tiger?"

The expression on his face shifted from shock into an indescribable misery. His mouth twitched, and his voice became hoarse and broken. "Good... good, so that's how it is... But just wait. I still have another son, Liu Teng. He is already a Martial Artist."

"He will definitely avenge me. Just wait, he definitely will..."

Crack.

The woodcutting knife swept across his neck, cleanly slicing his head from his shoulders.

His head rolled beneath the threshold and stopped beside Wang Household's corpse.

Liu Dagang's fat body lay across the threshold. His limbs twitched twice more before falling still, blood pouring from his neck cavity and running through the cracks in the bluestone into the courtyard.

Feng Chen straightened up and let out a long breath.

The pent-up suffocation that had been lodged in his chest ever since merging memories had finally been completely released.

This was the second time he had killed someone, yet his heart felt more exhilarated than the first time.

Tiger Liu had only been a petty evil. Liu Dagang was the root of the calamity that had caused his father and mother to die full of hatred.

With blade after blade, old debts and new accounts had all been settled.

He put away the woodcutting knife.

Then he recalled Liu Dagang's final words!

Liu Teng.

Tiger Liu's younger brother, who had followed his brother to block the village entrance and throw stones at him when he was only twelve or thirteen.

Later, Liu Dagang had spent a great sum to send him to town to study martial arts. He rarely returned to the village, and Feng Chen had nearly forgotten such a person existed.

So Liu Teng was already a Martial Artist.

But so what?

By the time he returned, the corpses would have long become fertilizer. Who would know who had killed them?

Feng Chen coldly swept his gaze over the corpses, then turned and entered the house.

As the village chief of Green Mountain Village, and someone who had amassed wealth through every sort of method, Feng Chen knew Liu Dagang possessed quite a bit of money.

Supporting Liu Teng's martial arts training at the town martial arts hall for several years cost ten taels of silver a month. That was not something a meager salary or a few poor fields could provide.

There was not much furnishing in the bedroom. A large bed occupied half the room, its silk curtains embroidered with dark red patterns. Along the wall stood a row of rough wooden cabinets, their copper locks gleaming yellow.

After searching around, he found nothing.

Squatting down to feel around beneath the bed, he found several dusty old shoes and a dust-covered chamber pot, but nothing else.

He tapped along the floorboards one by one beside the wall. When he reached the bluestone brick beneath the cabinet, the sound was wrong—it was hollow.

He pried up the brick. Beneath it sat a small wooden box with no lock. The wood was heavy, made from fine sandalwood.

Opening it, he found banknotes of one hundred taels each arranged neatly inside, stamped with the seal of Datong Bank in Green Mountain Town and bearing the image of a bronze bull.

He counted them once. Ten notes—one thousand taels.

There was also a cloth bag beneath the box, filled with more than a hundred taels in broken silver, white and gleaming with a soft luster.

For a village chief to have saved this much money showed just how much grease he had scraped off over the years!

He stuffed all the banknotes and broken silver into the pouch against his body, tied its opening tight with a cloth strip, and tucked it securely at his waist.

He searched the house again, but there was nothing else of value!

He stopped looking.

Returning to the courtyard, he saw the two corpses sprawled before the main hall entrance. The moonlight illuminated them clearly, and blood had soaked half the courtyard.

He had no intention of cleaning up or concealing anything. In this remote mountain village, there were no coroners and no constables. By the time they were discovered tomorrow, no clues would be found.

As he reached the wall corner to climb over, the corner of his eye caught the dead dog.

The dog's body had already gone cold, its fur covered in congealed clots of blood.

His steps paused.

This dog had chased him down many roads. That time, he had just come down from the mountain with a wild chicken he had caught with great difficulty in hand. The dog had burst from the courtyard gate, bared its yellow teeth, and chased him halfway down the alley. It tore his trouser leg, and the wild chicken fell to the ground and was snatched away.

Tiger Liu and his brother had stood at the courtyard gate laughing loudly, while Liu Dagang sat in the courtyard holding a teacup without even lifting his eyelids.

Fortune's wheel turned.

He bent down, pulled over a hemp rope, and tied it around the dog's corpse. He hefted it in his hand. It weighed thirty or forty pounds, heavy and solid.

"You bit me? Then I can eat you too."

Holding the dog's corpse in one hand, he climbed over the wall with the other, landing lightly outside the courtyard before swiftly heading home beneath the moonlight.

Back at home, he slipped quietly through the courtyard gate and shut it tightly.

Less than half an hour had passed from the time he left to the time he returned.

Everything had been dealt with cleanly.

He went straight into the kitchen, took off the gray short shirt spattered with blood, and tossed it into the stove.

The lingering embers were smothered by the clothing at first, sending up a burst of smoke. Then flames whooshed up and swallowed the entire garment.

He added two more pieces of split firewood and set an iron pot over the fire to boil water.

When the water boiled and steam billowed up, he carried the big yellow dog's corpse beside the stove and prepared to dress it.