Beneath the Wind Character Tower.
Inside the wooden hut, a young boy was cooking rice porridge, his expression slightly vacant as he comforted himself.
This matter has nothing to do with you.
You should also trust the masters at the Academy and the arrest officers at the Ministry of Punishment.
Their abilities will surely let them easily apprehend those people, bring them to justice, and when the time comes, they'll be executed publicly, beheaded, and perhaps those involved in the case after this one will also be captured furiously by the secret police of the Great Qin.
Having you there won't make any difference, your Eighth Rank cultivation is just at the level of the secret police.
Besides, you lack that kind of experience.
Wang Anfeng's inner turmoil gradually calmed down.
The fire in the stove today was burning a bit too strong, and he should have added some water to prevent the rice from scorching, but Wang Anfeng seemed lost in thought and didn't tend to it until he smelled a slight burning scent and finally took the iron pot off the stove.
He stirred with the chopsticks, and upon seeing that the bottom had burnt, the young man tapped his forehead with his hand, turned his head to look at the gradually darkening sky, and softly muttered, perhaps to persuade himself or others,
"Ah, the rice has burnt..."
"I need to go out and buy some."
Wang Anfeng selectively forgot that he had just bought rice a few days ago.
He adjusted the wooden sword on his back, placed the silver needles on the left side of his belt, and on the right, he placed golden sore medicine and Qi-absorbing Pills, then stepped out the door. The main gates of the Academy were all guarded by martial artists, but the security here was lax due to its distance from the disciples' residence.
He found a wall, leaped up, lightly tapped his toes on the wall twice, and placed his palms on the stone carvings on the wall. With a slight effort, he flipped over and landed softly on the ground, making a muted thud due to his mediocre qinggong skills.
Wang Anfeng was startled and lay still on the spot until he realized he had not attracted the attention of any patrolling masters, and only then did he stand up.
Dusting off the leaves sticking to his clothes, the young man glanced at the sky, suddenly feeling a bit uncertain, and muttered,
"Well, I'm really just going to buy some food."
"Suddenly feeling hungry again today."
Yang Jingming walked through the streets of Fufeng County City with a stern face.
He was a fairly well-known hero in Fufeng County. Recently, after learning about the brutal killing in Fufeng County City, he sought out the Ministry of Punishment and wished to join the night patrol duty.
Although in this world, Jianghu and the Imperial Court clearly demarcated their territories, and typically neither looked favorably upon the other. If someone killed two officials, the folks of Jianghu would definitely applaud, praising, "Well killed!" and then get drunk for a few days.
And if Jianghu lost two highly skilled martial artists, the local officials would surely be pleased, perhaps even noting it as an achievement in their records.
But there was one area where Jianghu and the Imperial Court shared common ground — the unarmed and ordinary common people.
Let alone brutal murders!
Let alone annihilation of families!
Yang Jingming's anger had yet to subside.
This murder in a place like Fufeng County City not only enraged the Great Qin Dynasty, but even the righteous factions in Jianghu empathized, with many martial artists spontaneously patrolling. Those with even a slight reputation, like Yang Jingming, directly assisted the Ministry of Punishment's constables in patrolling the county city at night.
Due to this incident, there were fewer pedestrians at night, but some places still had lights on, mostly with large pots cooking sheep blood, sheep liver, and other offals, the soup milky-white with a sprinkling of scallions and chili peppers — a bowl was very warming for the stomach, favored by night watchmen and laborers, and by the patrolling martial artists.
Yang Jingming frowned but did not approach to disturb them, stopping in his tracks and lowering his voice to ask the Ninth Grade patrolling martial artist next to him,
"…Do they not know about the murder case?"
The martial artist, a man in his thirties carrying a spear, chuckled in response and said,
"Of course, they know."
"Such news, unless protected by a Noble Clan like the Academy, should not be hidden to avoid disturbing their peace of mind. If we hid it from ordinary citizens, wouldn't that put their lives in danger?"
With growing doubts, Yang Jingming frowned and said,
"Why would he still come out?"
"Isn't that more dangerous? No, I must persuade him to go back..."
He had just taken a half step when his sleeve was grabbed by the martial artist, who wore a somewhat helpless expression on his face. He sighed at him and said with a smile,
"Brother Yang, you needn't bother... As a martial hero of Jianghu, you probably aren't aware of the hardships faced by the citizens here."
"It seems those with surplus in their homes have already packed up their stalls. Those who are out probably need the money and have no choice."
At this point, his voice carried a hint of melancholy.
"Moreover, for a martial artist, ordinary citizens who can't even truss a chicken are just as vulnerable inside their homes as out. Didn't the tragic extermination happen today with a family inside their own home? If targeted by an assassin, even the sturdiest house is the same. It might even be safer to have a stall outside..."
"After all, with us patrolling the streets, even the vicious martial artists of the Evil Sect wouldn't dare to kill someone in broad daylight, would they?"
Yang Jingming halted his steps, seeing in the autumn night those warm yet weak lights. With his ocular power, he could see those faces through the mist, similar in age to him yet marked by suffering. His expression grew complex as he reached into his coat and took out a silver coin, intending to hand it over.
He had come from ordinary circumstances and with the aid of several masters, had reached his current cultivation realm. Though his power was modest, seeing this scene, he wanted to lend a hand.
Just then, the spear-wielding martial artist beside him raised his hand and grasped his wrist, shaking his head at him and said,
"There's no need for that."
"They have the means to support themselves and made their own choices. While you, as a martial hero, might feel obligated, your silver wasn't brought by the whirlwind. These people's lives are, in many ways, more secure than yours."
"As constables, and you being a martial hero, what we should do is capture those damned martial artists from the Evil Sect and restore a place of peace for the citizens."
Yang Jingming fell silent for a moment. Before working with these Academy-trained constables, he had harbored some disdain, but at that moment, he felt a different sentiment rise within him. He put the silver coin back but then spoke up again,
"How about after we hand over duties to Group B, we come here and have a bowl of meat soup?"
The martial artist was slightly stunned, then a hearty smile appeared on his face and said,
"Then you'd better prepare enough silver."
Yang Jingming smiled and said,
"This amount of money should be sufficient."
The atmosphere among the group became much more harmonious, and they had not walked much further when they saw a carriage parked near a small stall but no coachman in sight.
The spear-wielding martial artist frowned and glanced twice, noticing the horse that was pulling the carriage was extremely spirited with a coat as black as the night. If not for its white hooves and the bright moonlight today, it would have been difficult to spot, instantly knowing it had to belong to a noble from a clan. Originally not wanting to cause trouble, but bound by duty, he prepared to approach and inquire.
Just then, a young servant from the stall came running and stopped the spear-wielding constable. First, he bowed and apologized, then unhooked a golden medallion from his waist and offered it up with a smile and a polite gesture, saying,
"Officials, this is the son of our Murong Family. May I ask if there's any problem?"
The constable frowned, but seeing the young servant's respectful manner, and knowing that today the city was just under heightened security with skilled guards at every gate but no curfew enforced, it wasn't proper to say much. He merely repeated today's situation and again cautioned,
"It's unstable outside today; you should advise him not to stay here long."
The servant smiled in agreement, took the medallion back to the carriage, and Yang Jingming, watching their backs, frowned and asked, "Shouldn't we investigate a bit, Brother Wu?"
Wu Xiong shook his head and said, "The Murong family is a century-old noble clan in the city with substantial properties. It can't be them."
"Let these young nobles do what they want; we can't control them. Let's go, three more rounds and we can rest."
The group departed, and the servant reported back to his master, then jogled over to the stall, ordered a bowl of mixed lamb and half a plate of oily bread, eating with gusto. Then he turned back, glanced at the slightly swaying carriage, a helpless expression appeared on his face, he sighed, lowered his head, and slurped another mouthful of hot soup.
From inside the carriage, a woman's playful and pleading voice came,
"Ah, Young Master, stop messing around..."
"The constables have said that it's dangerous outside, why not we leave? It's much livelier back in the Spring Breeze House with a few more sisters..."
The handsome young man beside her remained unconcerned, wrapped his arm around her waist, and sneered twice,
"He is talking nonsense."
"Let the martial artists have a few more guts; they certainly wouldn't dare to kill someone in the streets of Great Qin."