Blind Bei had assigned tasks to everyone, which completely fit his image. Throughout history, in many literary works, fortune tellers and strategists often appeared as blind characters.
However, the strategist profession is highly competitive, and opportunities are scarce; therefore, most are blind fortune tellers.
In Ah Qiu’s comic, none of these character traits were shown. In Ah Qiu’s comic, Blind Bei is depicted as a demon who set up his own private court, flaunting himself as the embodiment of justice.
Nevertheless, people are not merely two-dimensional. Therefore, in this world, once they broke free from the comic’s constraints, the characters gradually livened up.
Subsequently, everyone started preparing.
Feng Siniang first ordered a few servants in the inn to spread the news that she herself would be receiving guests, rather like a minor celebrity from a certain island nation suddenly announcing she was entering the adult film industry.
Xue Three squatted at the edge of the well in the courtyard, a sharpening stone before him, and began to sharpen his tools.
However, he was sharpening small daggers and pliers, probably the standard equipment for a Gentleman on the Beam.
Zheng Fan curiously walked over, squatted next to him, and asked,
"Where’s your sword?"
Zheng Fan remembered that in the comic, Xue Three was portrayed with a giant steel sword strapped across his back—probably another comical contrast dreamt up by the author Qin Siyu.
Continuing to sharpen his tools, Xue Three looked up at Zheng Fan, smiled, and replied,
"My lord, it is not here."
"When we arrived in this world, besides the clothes on our bodies, everything else was left behind."
Zheng Fan nodded. That explained it.
However, he felt a pang of regret. The items these people originally possessed in the comic, if brought into reality, could probably be considered priceless artifacts.
"My lord can go to the front hall to sit and drink tea or wine. After tonight, we will be able to tell you what this world is truly like."
"I appreciate your hard work."
Zheng Fan didn’t go to the front hall. Frankly, he was quite apprehensive about facing the unknown. As the afternoon drew near and guests started to arrive, seeing them one after another, dressed so differently from modern times, felt suffocating.
But he was also eager to explore this unknown.
Perhaps it was just unfamiliar, a sensation similar to when a normal person watches a horror film—a blend of pain and pleasure.
Zheng Fan returned to his room and lay on his bed. Everyone outside was busy preparing, and Zheng Fan took a nap.
His nap turned out to be much longer than expected; when he woke up, it was already dark.
"I sure can sleep," Zheng Fan murmured self-mockingly.
Actually, Zheng Fan had been wondering if he could help in any way; otherwise, being constantly referred to as "my lord" was a bit embarrassing.
But Zheng Fan knew there wasn’t much he could do. If he insisted on helping, he might end up hindering their work instead.
Perhaps his best contribution was to quietly sleep in his room and let them treat him as a mascot; that might actually make them happier.
Leaving his room and walking into the courtyard, he saw A Ming again.
A Ming was standing in the shadow of the cellar door, seemingly trimming his nails with a small file.
When he sensed Zheng Fan approaching, A Ming looked up at him and said,
"My lord, Fanli already left for the desert with a barbarian trade caravan this afternoon. Xue Three has also gone to scout the location. Blind Bei went to see the wife of the Captain of the City Watch this afternoon and still hasn’t returned."
A Ming continued speaking while still tending to his nails.
Zheng Fan merely responded and, after some hesitation, asked,
"Can I help with anything?"
A Ming paused for a moment, a thoughtful look in his eyes, then said,
"Actually, my lord, you have already been a great help."
Zheng Fan was speechless. He thought A Ming meant that by not causing trouble, he was already helping.
But to his surprise, A Ming continued,
"The auction over there has ended, but there were some complications."
"What complications?"
"The highest bidder paid a rather large sum."
Zheng Fan never doubted Feng Siniang’s charms. Men’s tastes varied: some liked petite women, others preferred those more robust; some liked cooing types, others preferred those who wailed.
However, Feng Siniang, as the perfect mature woman Qin Siyao had imagined, possessed an irresistible allure in her every smile and frown.
There’s a foolproof method to judge if a man is lecherous: place a finger between his upper lip and nose. If he exhales, it proves he is.
"That man, he has an attendant. Though called an attendant, he seems more like a bodyguard.
This young master arrived in Hutou City a few days ago. He took two women from the brothel in the eastern part of the city to an inn. Both women were carried out; one is still alive, while the other succumbed to her injuries.
He compensated the brothel with silver, so they didn’t press the matter."
According to their prior arrangement, Feng Siniang was receiving a guest this time to bait a "big fish." The goal was to torture the "worldview" of this world out of this big fish.
Then, as a precaution, the fish would definitely be disposed of. After the "worldview" was shared, either Liang Cheng or A Ming would wear the big fish’s clothes and swagger out of the inn as if they had "finished their business," thereby clearing the inn of suspicion.
Originally, they only needed to target the big fish, and men being men...
But the unexpected appearance of a bodyguard introduced many variables. Furthermore, A Ming had said this person’s bid was the highest, crushing all others. The wealthier and more prominent a person was, the stronger their attendants and guards were likely to be.
This badger game... they’d better not screw it up.
"Should we... poison him?" Zheng Fan suggested.
"I’ve observed him. After entering the inn, the attendant has remained by his master’s side but hasn’t drunk any wine or eaten anything."
This kind of attendant would demand of himself to remain clear-headed at all times, making him even harder to deal with.
This was especially true when the demon lords under Zheng Fan were still, in essence, ordinary humans.
"If the target is too tough, just give up," Zheng Fan said, not wanting them to suffer any losses.
A Ming smiled, his teeth brilliantly white. He shook his head, saying,
"The more formidable the attendant, the more valuable our target is, as he likely knows more. Besides, Siniang has already taken their money. We can’t really let Siniang sleep with him, can we?"
"My lord, if you wish to help, you could carry this jar of wine to the front hall for me. It’s about time."
Zheng Fan’s gaze swept the ground. Spotting a small wine jar, he promptly bent down to pick it up.
"It’s filled with incense ash."
"Is this for a sneak attack?"
"Yes. My lord, when the time is right, just throw it at the guard. Leave the rest to Liang Cheng and me."
Zheng Fan nodded vigorously.
"My lord, you go first. Liang Cheng is waiting at the foot of the stairs in the front hall."
A Ming pointed to the south side of the courtyard. A ladder there led directly to the second floor of the front hall.
"I’ll use the ladder to enter Siniang’s room first and help Siniang control that big fish. The guard is stationed in the outer room. When you make your move, I’ll attack him from behind, from the inner room."
While in the comic’s story, Zheng Fan had "killed countless people," was "covered in blood," and "steeped in sin," in reality, he was nothing more than a keyboard warrior—perhaps one with a bit more imagination than the average. He’d never even killed a chicken, let alone a person... well, scratch that. He had killed one person: himself.
Zheng Fan carried the small wine jar into the front hall. Liang Cheng was indeed standing at the foot of the stairs, waiting. When he saw Zheng Fan approaching with the jar, Liang Cheng seemed somewhat surprised, and beneath the surprise, a hint of anger.
"Who asked you to come, my lord? Was it A Ming?"
"I insisted on coming," Zheng Fan replied.
Liang Cheng frowned; it was clear he was quite displeased.
Zheng Fan felt a little uneasy and could only add, "I’ll do as you say. I’ll throw the incense ash and then run."
He thought Liang Cheng was displeased because he considered Zheng Fan useless and likely to get in the way.
However, Liang Cheng’s next cold words surprised Zheng Fan:
"My lord’s safety must not be compromised."
Is he... worried about me?
"I’ll throw it and run. I’ll be fine. Besides, aren’t you guys here?"
Seeing Zheng Fan’s persistence, Liang Cheng reluctantly nodded, signaling his agreement.
Then, he turned and headed upstairs.
Zheng Fan naturally followed, carrying the wine jar. Actually, deep down, Zheng Fan still felt this operation was a bit too aggressive.
Fanli had gone with a caravan to the desert, opening up a view into the barbarian lands. Xue Three had gone to the government office to steal documents, and Blind Bei had gone to entice the wife of that Captain of the City Watch. Surely, these actions were enough, right?
But here at the inn, they planned to directly obtain intelligence by eliminating the target. Success would be one thing, but what if they failed?
However, Zheng Fan could also understand their perspective. These individuals were originally monsters from comics who killed without batting an eye, even reveling in sadistic slaughter. When they acted, they often focused solely on the outcome, disregarding the process and methods.
Normal people ensure they have sufficient strength before undertaking a task; lunatics, on the other hand, charge ahead regardless of their capabilities!
And now, the operation had begun. The arrow was nocked; there was no time for further deliberation. Feng Siniang had already welcomed the guest into her boudoir...
In the courtyard, after Zheng Fan had entered the front hall, A Ming lingered at the entrance of the wine cellar for a while longer.
Yes, he still held that small file in his hand. But he wasn’t trimming his fingernails, as Zheng Fan had initially thought.
Instead, he repeatedly plunged the tip of the file into his own palm.
Wound after wound was created.
Then, one by one, the wounds healed rapidly, the process visible to the naked eye.
Finally, A Ming stopped this continuous self-mutilation. He looked up at the moon, which wasn’t very bright that night.