Soon, the two men emerged from the rice shop's back door, leading a single mount.
A Fine-Scaled Steed was worth ten thousand gold, and even the Bai Family Rice Shop owned only three.
Galloping through the city was forbidden. Only after passing through the gates did the two men mount together and race away. The sky was already growing dim.
Wu Jinliang had caught up with Lao Changhai. They sped side by side through the grove of heart-wrapping grass, splitting apart and coming together whenever upright stalks blocked their path.
"How many are there?"
"I've only spotted ten so far."
"Keep following them." Wu Jinliang abruptly stopped in the grove after leaving those words.
Puzzled, Lao Changhai looked back as he ran, but the other man's figure had already blurred behind the stalks of heart-wrapping grass.
Based on the direction the killers had fled, Wu Jinliang silently estimated their speed and distance. Then he turned his palm and released the Wind Scales, rising into the air once more. He still kept low, skimming the grass, but this time he followed a curving route.
He had not flown far before the fluttering scales fell into his palm, gathering into one like grains of sand building a tower, and he put them away.
As he landed among the grass, he pulled a large gourd out of thin air and slung it onto his back. Its stopper popped open. He closed his eyes and concentrated on listening, first hearing the rustling chirps of insects and the evening breeze swaying the grass.
The sky outside had grown dim, and his tall figure looked faintly indistinct beneath the towering grass.
Soon, faint swishing sounds drew closer.
A masked man with an iron chain wrapped around his arm was charging ahead to clear the way when