The Parchment Scroll

A few days after Uncle Chen and Little Qing left, the quiet courtyard felt cold and desolate. The man who used to lounge like a corpse beneath the locust tree now found himself all alone.

“So boring...” Jiang Moran muttered to himself.

Ever since he became the sole occupant again... how should he put it?

He felt a bit unaccustomed to it.

The small, cozy wooden house and courtyard somehow felt much larger now.

Heh. Jiang Moran let out a helpless chuckle. In truth, he knew it wasn't that the place had grown bigger, but that there were fewer people.

“I wonder how they're doing...”

A dull thud echoed through the courtyard, interrupting Jiang Moran's thoughts. Frowning in displeasure, he turned his gaze toward the sound.

Unbeknownst to him, a man covered in blood had appeared over by the entrance.

His white robes were soaked red with blood, looking like blooming roses.

His chest still heaved faintly; he was clearly holding on by a thread. Without treatment, he was as good as dead.

Jiang Moran strolled over and casually flipped the man over with the tip of his toe. To his surprise, a familiar face met his gaze.

“Isn't this that sucker? How did he end up in such a state?” Jiang Moran murmured in mild surprise.

He still had some impression of this man. After all, the Dragon Blood Grass had been very useful; combined with other medicinal ingredients, it had significantly improved Ning Qingzhu's constitution.

Otherwise, with her frail, malnourished frame, she would probably still be huffing and puffing after taking a few steps.

Right at that moment...

As Jiang Moran contemplated whether it was better to bury him here or bury him there, his brows twitched slightly.

Without any warning, he raised his right hand and casually extended two fingers. A moment later, a sharp blade gleaming with cold light was caught firmly between his fingertips.

Two figures appeared abruptly, lunging from both sides, each wielding a long knife as they slashed at him from left and right.

Facing this pre-planned ambush, the corners of his mouth curled slightly.

Contrary to their expectation of blood splattering, the two long knives slammed into each other with a crisp metal clash, sending a numbing shock through the webbing of their thumbs and fingers.

Yet they had no time to dwell on that, for the aura of death was rapidly closing in!

A sharp pain shot from one assassin's arm. Looking down in horror, he saw that his right hand—which had just been holding his knife—was gone.

White bone protruded from his wrist...

“Ah! Ah... Urgh!”

His agonizing scream cut off abruptly. A hideous tear appeared on his neck, ripping through half his throat.

Jiang Moran held the captured long knife, resting the spine of the blade against the second assassin's neck. Though not sharp like the edge, it felt bone-chillingly cold.

The surviving assassin felt liquid trickling down his neck, the warm sensation feeling like the gentle touch of an executioner.

Trembling, he raised his head.

The man before him had killed his companion in the most cruel and bloody manner imaginable.

Compared to a sharp blade slicing smoothly through a neck, the dull spine tore brutally through flesh. The agony it inflicted was beyond imagination; just because the dead couldn't scream didn't mean they hadn't felt blinding pain at the moment of death.

“Who are you?” Jiang Moran asked casually, his tone sounding as if he were asking what was for dinner tonight.

The assassin said nothing, even closing his eyes.

It was as though he had accepted his inevitable death.

Jiang Moran raised an eyebrow slightly. Such a calm acceptance of death was hardly the attitude of a hired assassin.

They were two organized, disciplined assassins. Although their strength was trash, they had still managed to severely injure that gullible fellow.

Searching through clues in his mind, Jiang Moran's thoughts finally settled on one specific place.

He locked eyes with the assassin and enunciated every word clearly: “Liang Kingdom. Assassin Hall. Earth-Rank Assassins.”

The instant those words were spoken, the assassin's pupils contracted sharply. Taking in this subtle change, Jiang Moran knew he had hit the mark.

Once the shock wore off, the assassin realized he could no longer hide it. He looked at Jiang Moran in utter disbelief. “Who on earth are you?! How do you know we're from the Assassin Hall?”

The Kingdom of Liang was situated west of Tianwu Kingdom. A century ago, the two nations had signed a ceasefire treaty. People there did not practice martial arts; instead, they specialized in secret arts and various assassination techniques. Liang's assassins were notoriously difficult to deal with, and people from all countries hired them for dirty work.

The Assassin Hall was Liang's largest assassin organization, divided into Heaven, Earth, and Human ranks. Strict hierarchy governed the hall, where a single rank represented an insurmountable chasm in skill.

Facing an attack from two Earth-Rank Assassins, it was no surprise that gullible fellow had nearly lost his life.

Jiang Moran didn't answer. He drove the blade straight through the assassin's throat, watching the light fade from his indignant eyes.

Once he knew they were from the Assassin Hall, he realized there was nothing more to extract from him anyway.

Now, it was time to handle the person who had brought this trouble to his doorstep.

“Dead yet?”

“No...”

Jiang Moran raised an eyebrow. Just as he was contemplating whether to finish him off with a follow-up strike, Fengqingzi seemed to sense his thought and tremblingly reached out to tug at the hem of his trousers.

Such a powerful will to live moved Jiang Moran slightly.

Since he was already in this state, delivering a mercy blow would be a bit too mean.

He grabbed Fengqingzi, dragged him back into the wooden house, and crudely bandaged his wounds. Luckily, the young man had immense good fortune—despite such grave injuries, he actually woke up after lying there for just two days.

Fengqingzi opened his eyes slowly. His immediate sensation was that every single inch of his body throbbed with pain.

Turning his head slowly, he looked at the man sitting beside the bed eating fruit. His expression froze for a second before he immediately struggled to sit up.

“Hey, hey, hey, what are you doing?” Jiang Moran's eye twitched. What was this guy spazzing out for the moment he woke up?

“Senior!”

“Thank you for saving my life, Senior!!”

Seeing that he couldn't get up, Fengqingzi gave up on rising to cup his fists in salute, remaining lying down with a look of profound gratitude.

“Heh, if you're truly grateful, don't lead trouble to my doorstep next time.”

Sensing Jiang Moran's disdain, Fengqingzi let out an embarrassed chuckle and hurriedly explained in desperation: “It wasn't that I intentionally ran toward your place, Senior, but I really had no other choice.”

“Those assassins kept forcing me to hand over the parchment scroll. If I actually had it, fine, but the problem is it's no longer on me! How was I supposed to hand it over...?”

“Left with no other option, I searched everywhere for Senior's whereabouts. I eventually heard you were in Linchuan City. I asked around the city and finally learned about you from a shop in an alleyway. Who would have guessed that as soon as I left the city, I was ambushed by three assassins? I managed to kill one of them before fleeing for my life, eventually passing out here in this riverside courtyard.”

Hearing his explanation, Jiang Moran couldn't help but nod. It seemed he wasn't completely useless after all—at least he had taken one down with him.

Sitting on the bed, Fengqingzi's head grew clearer, and he suddenly remembered the two remaining assassins who had been pursuing him.

“Senior, those two assassins...”

“Dead.”

“Oh.”

Fengqingzi fell silent. The assassins who had nearly ended his life had been nonchalantly dismissed with a simple “Dead.”

Meanwhile, Jiang Moran was trying to remember where he had tossed that parchment scroll and whether he could still find it.

Pondering, he began rummaging through the cabinets and drawers inside the wooden house. Fengqingzi's eyes followed him, watching curiously as he turned the room upside down.

After a brief search, Jiang Moran walked over slowly under Fengqingzi's puzzled gaze.

He squatted down.

One corner of the bed was suddenly lifted and then slammed back down heavy.

And in Jiang Moran's hand was now a folded leather scroll—the very same parchment scroll.

Fengqingzi's gaze shifted from confusion to shock. Unbothered, Jiang Moran looked at the slightly dusty parchment scroll and let out a soft chuckle. “Found it.”