Departure

The black cloak was worn from years of use, its edges frayed. Right now, it completely enveloped the figure, obscuring his face and leaving only a vague silhouette visible.

Ning Qingzhu had a blank, dazed expression on her face, as if her mind had gone completely blank, entirely unable to register how she had ended up there.

Only now did a solemn look flicker across the graceful woman's face on the stage. A person clad in black night-garb stood beside her at some unknown moment.

“Master, I couldn't see his movements,” the person whispered, their voice trembling slightly.

She did not speak, silently staring at the figure before her. He was still holding someone in one hand, meaning he had clearly delivered that lethal blow with effortless ease.

She had underestimated the bidders at this auction. It seemed keeping the sheepskin parchment was no longer possible.

Just as the thought crossed her mind, the figure in the black cloak moved. However, instead of walking toward the sheepskin parchment, he headed straight for the jar of Golden Cup Fine Wine that had just been auctioned off.

Under the watchful eyes of the entire crowd, he grabbed the liquor jar in one hand while carrying the young girl in the other. Pushing lightly off his toes, his sleeves stirred a gust of cold air. Before anyone could react, the dark shadow flickered, leaving only a rush of cool wind in their faces.

He actually didn't take the sheepskin parchment!

The thought exploded instantly in everyone's minds. Those who had been biding their time swarmed forward at once. The person in the night-garb let out a cold glint in his eyes, about to teach these reckless fools a lesson.

Bang!

Before he could move, however, the main doors were slammed open from the outside. The rapid succession of unexpected turns made everyone somewhat restless, but the moment their gazes landed on the doorway, they froze.

The intruder wore a black-patterned woven brocade battle robe over his armor, tied with a waist belt, with a gilt and jade-inlaid sabre hanging at his side. He stepped inside with a stern expression and steady, deliberate strides. Five tall, erect men followed behind him, each clad in the dark uniform of head constables.

“T-That's the Commander! And those five are all Fengcheng head constables!”

One of the dignitaries in the audience recognized him and couldn't help exclaiming in shock. The Commander had actually led a team to the auction in person!

The men who had been preparing to strike turned ashen-faced. Never in their wildest dreams had they expected the second-in-command of the Patrol Bureau to show up in person, let alone bring five head constables with him!

At this point, even escaping was a wild dream...

The Left Wing Commander looked at the men kneeling on the ground and let out a cold snort. The head constables behind him stepped forward immediately to arrest them, awaiting further orders.

His gaze swept across the hall, resting for a brief moment on the figure dressed in white.

The swordsman Fengqingzi had indeed come.

He wondered if it was just his imagination, but Fengqingzi seemed slightly off. Still, he didn't dwell on it and continued scanning the area, his brows furrowing slightly. There was no sign of anyone who looked like the murderer, nor was Ghostly Hand Zhu Shu among the crowd.

Just as he turned his head, his pupils suddenly contracted. Slumped limply against the wall was a body—it was none other than Ghostly Hand Zhu Shu.

Blood leaked from his seven orifices, and his death was gruesome beyond belief. A pool of blood had already gathered on the ground beneath him, a shocking sight to behold.

“Ghostly Hand Zhu Shu?! He's actually dead?” The Left Wing Commander was taken aback. A figure who had risen to fame in the jianghu over the past two years had died just like that.

Moreover, it looked like he had been killed in a single strike. Bleeding from all seven orifices meant he had most likely suffered devastating internal injuries.

“Commander,” the attractive woman stepped forward and bowed, the attendant following half a step behind her.

The Left Wing Commander turned to look at her, giving a slight nod in acknowledgement before asking, “Who killed him?”

“Sir, Zhu Shu was killed by a man in a black cloak. That man possessed formidable martial prowess; no one present could react in time.”

A man in a black cloak? The Left Wing Commander's brows furrowed slightly. This information was virtually useless. It seemed this trip had been in vain...

Just as the thought occurred to him, the woman offered a crucial clue, making his eyes light up.

“You're saying he was accompanied by a pretty young girl?”

“Yes. Then they vanished.”

The Left Wing Commander's expression relaxed slightly. At least the trip wasn't a total waste, giving him something to report back. Furthermore, timing was everything—he had arrived right at the critical moment when people were attempting to seize the auction items, effectively doing the Heavenly Pavilion a favor by stepping in.

“Escort them back. We are returning to report.”

The head constables escorted the prisoners out alongside the Left Wing Commander. The sheepskin parchment ultimately fell into the hands of a wealthy merchant, bringing the auction to a successful conclusion.

Inside a VIP room, the wealthy merchant waited restlessly. Before long, the door opened, and Fengqingzi stepped inside.

“Young Master Feng, you're here! Hahaha, please, have a seat!” The merchant hurriedly rose to greet him, his face plastered with a wide smile.

“No need. I'll take the sheepskin parchment and be on my way.”

Hearing this, the merchant nodded repeatedly. He pulled the yellowed, worn roll of sheepskin parchment from his robes and handed it over. Fengqingzi took it and examined it closely; it felt rough to the touch.

The merchant hesitated, opening his mouth as if to speak, but ultimately held his tongue.

Stowing the parchment away, Fengqingzi said calmly, “As agreed, I will deal with the enemies your merchant guild has offended. Rest assured.”

Having secured the promise, the merchant finally breathed a slight sigh of relief and rose to offer his repeated thanks. Fengqingzi merely waved a hand and turned to leave without lingering.

With the Heavenly Pavilion Auction coming to an end, the eyes watching from the shadows dispersed as well, though no one was aware of it...

Out on the street, a beggar knocked on the door of a house. “Have mercy! Spare some food, please... I'm starving to death...”

Getting no answer from one house, he moved on to the next, until he knocked on the last house near an alleyway. The door creaked open, revealed to be a servant boy.

“Have mercy, kind sir. I haven't eaten in days. I have some apricots I can trade you for a little rice,” the beggar pleaded. After a moment's hesitation, the servant nodded and turned to let the beggar inside.

The door closed once more. Once inside, the beggar sat down comfortably, showing no trace of his former humble demeanor.

“How did it go? Did you gather any news?”

The beggar didn't answer immediately. Instead, he poured himself a cup of water, tilted his head back, and drained it in one gulp. Only then did he speak slowly: “Ghostly Hand Zhu Shu is dead, killed by a man in a black cloak. The Left Wing Commander arrived on the scene and arrested several men who tried to seize the sheepskin parchment.”

The overwhelming amount of information left the servant somewhat dazed. It took him a while to recover before he pressed further, “Zhu Shu was killed by a man in a black cloak?”

The beggar nodded.

The servant felt dazed for a moment. He actually killed him...

Seeing him daydreaming, the beggar grew slightly impatient and coughed softly.

The servant snapped back to reality, his expression returning to normal. He drew two ingots of silver from his robes and handed them to the beggar, who then took his leave, satisfied.

Long after the beggar had left, the servant remained silent for a long time. Who on earth was this unknown figure wandering the jianghu?

“Achoo!”

Jiang Moran rubbed his nose, attributing the sneeze to the chilly night wind. The morning sun illuminated the small path ahead of them as the two sat atop the straw stack of an ox cart, swaying gently with its movements.

Ning Qingzhu leaned against his chest, fast asleep. A faint smile touched the corners of her lips, as if she were having a sweet dream.

An old farmer slowly drove the ox ahead, humming an unknown tune. The melody lingered long and melodious, echoing through the quiet mountains.

“Travelling three continents and four paths wide~ How carefree life in the jianghu rolls by~”

...