Qing Chen gently patted Young Master Zhao's shoulder, a hint of amusement in his voice.
"Young Master Zhao, don't worry. I'll definitely get you out of here. But will you really give me anything? An official post, riches, beautiful women."
Young Master Zhao stiffened all over, clenching his back teeth until they ached.
Memories from half a year ago instantly flashed through his mind. Back then, Qing Chen hadn't even dared lift his head when speaking to him, every inch a street thug anyone could twist around their finger.
But now, this street thug held his life in his hands and was jacking up the price on the spot.
He thought to himself, Once I get out, just see how I deal with you, you lowborn scum.
But he only dared let that venom circle in his heart. On his face, he still had to plaster a smile uglier than tears:
"Yes, yes! As long as you get me out, I'll give you anything! I swear!"
Seeing the trace of resentment and helplessness in Young Master Zhao's eyes, Qing Chen couldn't help sneering inwardly.
He could more or less guess what this tyrannical, cruel Young Master Zhao was thinking.
He knew that this Young Master Zhao, who seemed to wield overwhelming power and appeared so sincere, must have been filled with resentment at this moment.
Looking at the venom Young Master Zhao couldn't hide in his eyes, Qing Chen suddenly smiled. "You're probably plotting in your heart how, once you get out, you'll deal with me, this brothel thug who dared jack up the price on the spot, aren't you?"
Young Master Zhao's face went white in a flash, as though someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over his head.
Qing Chen's voice stabbed straight into Young Master Zhao's heart. "I'm the one who decides whether you live."
Young Master Zhao hadn't expected Qing Chen to be so blunt, striking right at his thoughts.
His legs went weak, and he dropped to his knees, kowtowing and begging for mercy.
"All right, I've had my fun. I'm done playing with you."
There was a hint of mockery in Qing Chen's voice, as though he were savoring Young Master Zhao's terror and despair. "Heh, you useless piece of trash. The greatest value you have left now is your life.
"Remember in your next life: don't provoke people you shouldn't. Otherwise, your end will be even worse than this."
After extracting information under interrogation from Iron Ox, Master Eagle's trusted subordinate, Qing Chen had thought for a long time and understood the crux of the matter.
Since the city lord and Master Eagle wanted to stage a play, who exactly was the key to it?
Was it the city lord and Master Eagle?
No, they were merely the chess players behind the scenes.
The real key was the city lord's son, Young Master Zhao.
Then what if Young Master Zhao died?
What if he died at the foot of Northern Mang Mountain, before the vanguard army?
What if the bandits of Northern Mang Mountain cut off his head and used it as a sacrifice to their banner?
Then could this play still go on?
Qing Chen seemed to have already seen that bloody, shocking scene.
Such an upheaval would be enough to make the city lord and Master Eagle's plan collapse completely.
All their arrangements and schemes would dissolve into bubbles.
So, Young Master Zhao.
He had to die.
The moment that thought arose, a bloodthirsty gleam surfaced in Qing Chen's eyes.
He turned and walked back to Young Master Zhao, who was still on the ground, weeping and pleading, and hadn't noticed that Qing Chen's hand had already settled on the hilt of his short blade.
Whoosh-
Cold light flashed, too fast for anyone to make out the movement.
Young Master Zhao felt only a chill at his throat, as though an icicle had stabbed him. Then scalding blood surged out, blocking his windpipe.
He wanted to shout, but could only make breathy "hh, hh" sounds. Both hands clutched his throat, blood filling the gaps between his fingers.
Qing Chen withdrew the blade. The blood clinging to it dripped onto the ground, splashing up tiny flecks of mud.
He looked at Young Master Zhao's wide, rounded eyes, filled with terror like those of a dying fish. His heart felt not the slightest ripple; instead, he felt a strange exhilaration.
He raised a foot and pinned Young Master Zhao's wrist to stop him clawing wildly, then gripped the blade in his other hand and sliced downward along the wound in his neck!
With a crack, the head rolled to the ground, its eyes still staring fixedly at Qing Chen.
Qing Chen took a crumpled slip of paper from inside his robe and wrote a few words in fresh blood-"Zhao Erhe, you dog of an official, your son is a sacrifice to our banner."
He pinched the paper between bloodstained fingers and pressed it onto Young Master Zhao's head. The blood stuck it firmly in place.
Then he untied the coarse cloth at his waist and wrapped the head in it. The cloth was soon soaked through with blood, heavy in his hands.
"Everyone, come in," Qing Chen called toward the door.
The few Twin Eagles Association soldiers guarding outside hurried in. The instant they saw the corpse on the ground and the cloth bundle in Qing Chen's hand, their faces went white.
"Each of you, slash this corpse once." Qing Chen pointed at Young Master Zhao's torso on the ground and twirled the short blade in his hand, its flashing light making their eyes swim.
The soldiers exchanged looks, but didn't dare disobey Qing Chen's order.
One by one, they stepped forward, their weapons trembling in their hands, and each slashed Young Master Zhao's corpse once.
Young Master Zhao's corpse was hacked into a bloody mangled mess, too horrific to look at.
Qing Chen nodded in satisfaction. "Now we're all grasshoppers on the same string. You're all my dearest friends and family, my brothers as close as my own limbs.
"From now on, we'll share our good fortune, and we'll shoulder our troubles together too!"
After saying this, he pointed at Young Master Zhao's corpse and said coldly, "Throw this useless piece of trash off the sheer cliff too. Let him feed those wild wolves!"
Next, he had a soldier carry Young Master Zhao's head securely and clean away the bloodstains and traces at the scene.
After dealing with the thatched hut, Qing Chen led the men toward the tunnel entrance.
The tunnel entrance was hidden behind a patch of shrubs. He walked over and touched the soil on the tunnel wall with his fingers, confirming that no footprints had been left behind.
Then he had the soldiers use branches to sweep the shrubs back into their original state, making them look no different from the surrounding vegetation.
"Move." Qing Chen was the first to duck into the tunnel. It was pitch-black inside, with only the smell of earth and mold.
He took a fire striker from inside his robe and blew it alight. The faint firelight lit the tunnel walls, revealing scratch marks left by those who had come before.
After walking for roughly the time it took an incense stick to burn, light appeared ahead. They had reached the tunnel exit.
A few Twin Eagles Association soldiers stood guard outside the exit, along with a dozen or so wounded soldiers who had survived the fighting with the bandits that morning.
They were leaning against rocks and groaning. Some had arms slung from their necks, while others had bloodstained cloth wrapped around their legs.
As soon as Qing Chen emerged from the tunnel, he glanced at the wounded soldiers and coughed, his voice ringing out. "We wiped out the bandits' nest this time. Everyone will get a reward when we return! However-"
His tone shifted, and his gaze turned cold. "There are some things outsiders can't be allowed to know."
He gave the Twin Eagles Association soldiers a meaningful look, then pointed at the wounded soldiers and drew a finger across his throat.
This was a secret signal they had agreed on back when they were in the Twin Eagles Association. It meant "silence the witnesses."
Shock appeared on the Twin Eagles Association soldiers' faces when they received this order.
But Qing Chen's command left them no choice but to obey.
"What the fuck are you all standing around for? If you don't kill them, do you think you'll fucking live? If word leaks out, we all die!"
With no other choice, the Twin Eagles Association soldiers silently approached those soldiers.
"Kill!"
With a low roar, they drove the sharp blades in their hands viciously toward the utterly unprepared soldiers.
Many of those soldiers were still wounded.
They had never imagined that their brothers in the same unit would turn their weapons on them.