Though the conversation between the two sounded cordial, in truth, neither trusted the other.
In Fang Yue's eyes, Chen Chengan had once been a "hot-blooded" young man who had spoken up righteously for farmers driven to hardship—and even unable to survive—by increased taxes at the Martial Imperial Exam assessment grounds.
But now, he had become a fugitive who had killed an official and rebelled.
No one could say for certain, and no one could guarantee, that Chen Chengan's temperament remained as it had been before.
Perhaps the moment Fang Yue drew near and revealed an opening, the other man would attack without hesitation.
And if Chen Chengan were truly open and upright, why would he be hiding himself away like this, afraid to show his face?
Hiding inside a thatched hut without revealing himself—wasn't that proof that he was on guard?
"Cough, cough. Brother Fang is willing to let me leave? If I remember correctly, Chen's head is worth three thousand taels now!"
Chen Chengan's voice was still weak, his tone brimming with self-mockery.
Fang Yue's breathing caught slightly at those words. Three thousand taels of silver—if used for martial training, it could buy three portions of Skin Tempering Secret Medicine every month.
It would allow him to complete Skin Tempering in just over a month and begin Bone Forging.
The silver left over could even support his cultivation for a long time to come.
This was a fortune enough to make many people see red.
Even Fang Yue, who had already become a Martial Scholar, was no exception.
But he was cautious by nature—or rather, inclined to keep his head down. So long as he had enough time, his martial cultivation would surely go farther and grow stronger.
Then wealth and status would naturally come to him.
Why, then,