Master might have heard Xu Feng's words, or he might not have.
His voice only grew softer and softer. "Yes. Farewell is good. Farewell is good."
His hand clamped around Xu Feng's forearm. His chest heaved like a bellows, his mind was already wandering, and he began to ramble.
"Good lad, good lad—
"The calamity I stitched... it's a Sensing God. It can make people sense the ties of cause and effect upon them. The Yellow River, the Yellow River—"
What about the Yellow River? Xu Feng did not know. He could no longer make out the words; a phlegmy rattle was rising from deep in Master's throat.
Soon, even that sound faded.
Xu Feng gently patted Master's back. Not once had any of the things Master had provoked over the years dared come near. Only after he was certain Master was gone did Xu Feng lay him flat and open the door.
He did not call Da Wa and the others inside.
Xu Feng simply sat on the steps and waited quietly for dawn.
When a Corpse Sewer died, the absence of anything strange was the strangest thing of all.
Peace and quiet were the best omen.
Xu Feng sat before the door, keeping watch for Master through the night.
Until daybreak.
The others woke and gathered around.
Seven days later.
The vigil ended, and the funeral procession began.
Many people came to pay their respects. Uncle Liu was among them.
But the Executioner who could once pick Xu Feng up with one arm had grown old.
His vitality had waned, and his hair had turned gray.
Second Baby and Third Baby came with him and accompanied their father through the entire ceremony.
Old Zhao had died at an auspicious hour. After seven days of lying in state, he