"Squelch!"
The old man let out a wail. A chopstick had pierced his palm.
Blood gushed out.
The next second, the little stutterer, who had come back to his senses, pinned him to the ground.
Li Ping'an took out another copper coin and pressed it onto the table.
That would serve as compensation for the owner's chopstick.
The commotion finally drew the constables patrolling the streets.
The head constable was startled at the sight of the brocade-clad young master.
The young master sneered at the little stutterer. "I told you, you're finished!"
"Quick! Arrest the man who attacked Young Master Liu!"
Several constables drew their blades and surrounded the little stutterer.
The head constable hurried forward to help the brocade-clad young master up.
The young master shoved him aside and wanted to rush over to teach the little stutterer a lesson, but then he remembered the skill his opponent had just displayed.
He stopped short and stood a little distance away, grinning viciously.
"Today, I'll teach you something. Sometimes, even the bigger fist can't make its case."
Just then, someone said gravely, "Then allow me to teach you something as well, young master. Where you can spare someone, spare them."
They turned toward the voice and saw a man sitting at the noodle stall, holding several packed bowls of lamb paomo.
"And who are you?" the brocade-clad young master demanded coldly.
Li Ping'an's expression did not change. "Jing Yu of the Academy."
"Achoo!"
At the inn, Jing Yu sneezed while playing cards with the children.
The Academy?
The brocade-clad young master's thoughts shifted, and he was about to say something.
But the old man beside him held him back.
The old man studied Li Ping'an closely.
He wore blue robes and a bamboo hat.
His bearing was imposing and unworldly,