Zhang Hancheng had not even gone to inspect the site. He knew Sword Cultivators possessed an extraordinary intuition for potential danger, especially someone like Hou Niao.
He quieted his mind and gathered himself, waiting only for battle.
Three days later, Zhang Hancheng left the inn and wandered at leisure, strolling along the bustling streets like any other visitor. Though the sunlight caressed him warmly, the fragrance of flowers seeped into his heart and lungs, and brilliant colors filled his eyes, none of it could hold back the murderous intent within him.
He was a born killer. What he loved most was creating his own stories amid other people's joy and leisure. That was precisely why the Quanzhen Sect had expelled him back then. He had simply been less unfortunate than Hou Niao: though expelled, he had not been stripped of his abilities. Apart from being forbidden to pass them on, he suffered no other restrictions.
He had stayed in contact with Tang Yan, waiting for word of his success. The shorter the interval, the better, because he could not be sure whether that woman possessed some treasure that could instantly communicate with Hou Niao.
There was only one chance. That was hardly rare in his career as an assassin; he had long since grown accustomed to it.
...Bai Qingqian walked down the street with a light veil over her face. This was how she always dressed when she went out; only inside her own Flower Shop did she remove it.
Nearly ten years had passed since Hou Niao returned. In fact, she had stayed in Year-End City even longer. Her initial fear and trepidation had gradually become routine acceptance. Hou Niao never went out, so what danger could there be?
As long as she herself was careful, there would be