As soon as Yang Qing and the others entered Shaoyu City, they heard news that shocked them to the core.
Their friend, Si Yifan, the head of the Si Household whom they called Master Si, had actually died of a grave illness half a month earlier.
"Master Si might have been rather thin and frail-looking, but he was in excellent health. How could he..."
Yang Qing and the others could scarcely believe the news.
Without a moment's hesitation, they abandoned their search for an inn and strode into the restaurant together.
The dining hall on the ground floor was packed with customers eating and drinking.
On a small platform amid the diners, a storyteller was in full flow, his face alight with animation.
It was from his lips that the news of Master Si's death from a grave illness half a month earlier had come.
Quite a few of the diners had clearly heard of Master Si, and they expressed profound disbelief at the storyteller's account.
"As head of the Si Household, Master Si was always busy out in public, yet nobody ever heard that he was gravely ill. Your information clearly isn't reliable."
"Exactly. Be careful, cursing Master Si like that. The Si Household might come knocking to settle the score."
The audience clamored over one another. Not a single person believed the storyteller's words.
The storyteller grew so anxious that a fine sheen of cold sweat seeped through the white hair at his temples.
"I, Mou, have made my living with this mouth for decades. Would I make up something like this? Wouldn't that be smashing my own rice bowl?"
Seeing that none of his listeners believed him, the storyteller surnamed Mou could only sigh deeply and shake his head. "I only meant to warn you to be