9: Chapter 9 Night Raid

The man in black outside the door didn't expect him to rush out suddenly. He froze for a moment, and before he could even raise his blade, Ye Chen had already crashed into his chest.

His shoulder slammed into the man's chest, the sound of bones shattering particularly piercing in the night.

The man in black groaned as he was sent flying backward, slamming into the courtyard wall before sliding down, motionless.

The man in black guarding beneath the window reacted, swinging his blade to slash down.

The blade was fast, whistling through the air as it cleaved straight toward Ye Chen's face.

Ye Chen sidestepped, the blade's edge grazing his shoulder as it struck the ground, sending up a few sparks.

He reached out with his left hand, grabbing the man's wrist and twisting it with force.

Crack.

The wrist snapped, and the blade fell to the ground.

The man in black screamed in pain, swinging his other fist toward Ye Chen's temple.

Ye Chen didn't dodge. Instead, he raised his leg and drove his knee into the man's lower abdomen.

The man in black doubled over like a cooked shrimp, white foam spewing from his mouth as he collapsed limply.

The third man in black, the one guarding the courtyard gate, didn't move.

He looked at Ye Chen with a cold gaze, as if looking at a dead man.

Ye Chen looked back at him.

Neither spoke. The courtyard was so quiet that the sound of distant barking dogs could be heard.

The man in black slowly raised his blade, pointing the tip at Ye Chen.

Ye Chen didn't move, simply standing there and watching him.

Then, the man in black moved.

He didn't rush forward; he retreated.

One step, two steps, he backed up to the courtyard gate, turned around, and vanished into the darkness.

Ye Chen did not pursue.

He stood in the courtyard, staring at the darkness beyond the gate for a long time before finally letting out a slow breath.

The True Qi boiling in his chest from the battle gradually settled down.

He looked down at his hands.

His palms were bleeding.

When he had grabbed the man's wrist earlier, he had been cut by the barbs on the hilt. The wound wasn't deep, but it bled quite a bit, making his hand feel sticky.

Ye Chen walked to the water vat, scooped up some water to rinse his hand, then tore a strip of cloth from his clothes to give it a simple bandage.

Then he walked over to the two men in black, knelt down, and pulled off their masks.

Two unfamiliar faces, both very young, looking to be in their early twenties.

One had a collapsed chest and blood leaking from the corner of his mouth; he was already dead.

The other had a broken wrist and a wounded abdomen; he was unconscious but still alive.

Ye Chen searched the man and found a coin pouch, some pieces of silver, and a wooden plaque.

The wooden plaque was about half the size of a palm, carved with the character "Wang".

The Wang Family.

Ye Chen gripped the wooden plaque tightly, its edges digging painfully into his palm.

He stood up, walked to the courtyard gate, and looked out. The alley was empty, without a soul in sight.

Only the sound of the night watchman's clapper drifted from afar—bang, bang, bang.

It was the fourth watch.

Ye Chen then returned to the courtyard, dragged the living man in black to a corner, tied him up with rope, and gagged him.

He dragged the dead one to the woodshed and covered him with a tattered cloth.

After finishing this, he went to the house door and knocked.

"Xiaoyu, open the door."

The door opened. Xiaoyu stood behind it, her face pale, but she wasn't crying.

She looked at Ye Chen, then at the pool of blood in the courtyard. Her lips moved, but she didn't speak.

"It's all right." Ye Chen walked in and patted her head.

"Go to sleep."

Xiaoyu didn't move, her eyes fixed on the cloth wrapped around his hand, which was already soaked through with blood.

"Brother, you're hurt."

"It's a small wound, it's nothing." Ye Chen sat down on the edge of the bed.

"You go to sleep. I'll sit for a while."

Xiaoyu didn't say anything else. She climbed into bed and lay down, but her eyes remained wide open, staring at the ceiling.

Ye Chen sat by the bed, looking out the window.

Dawn was approaching, and the eastern sky began to turn fish-belly white.

In the morning light, the pool of blood in the courtyard looked dark and murky, like an ugly scar.

He lowered his head and looked at the wooden plaque in his hand.

A wooden plaque of the Wang Family.

Wang Teng.

Ye Chen gripped the plaque so hard his knuckles turned white.

Then he stood up, walked to the man in black in the corner, knelt down, and pulled the cloth from his mouth.

The man in black was awake, looking at him in terror.

"Who sent you?" Ye Chen asked, his voice flat.

The man in black said nothing, simply clenching his teeth.

Ye Chen didn't ask again. He reached out and pressed his hand against the man's injured abdomen.

A trace of True Qi carrying a chilling coldness slowly seeped inside.

The man in black shuddered, his eyes widening instantly. The cold qi surged wildly through his body, and everywhere it passed, his blood seemed to freeze.

He wanted to scream, but his throat was constricted, and he couldn't make a sound, only let out strange, raspy gasps.

"Who sent you?" Ye Chen asked once more.

The man in black shook his head frantically, his eyes filled with terror.

Ye Chen applied a bit more force.

The cold qi intensified.

A thin layer of frost began to form on the man's skin. His lips turned a bluish-purple, and his body twitched uncontrollably.

"Wang, Wang Teng..." He finally squeezed out two words from between his teeth.

"It's... it's Young Master Wang Teng."

Ye Chen released his hand.

The man in black slumped to the ground, gasping for air, his breath coming out in white puffs.

"What did he send you here to do?" Ye Chen asked.

"To k-kill you." The man's voice trembled.

"Young Master Wang Teng said... he couldn't let you participate in the Great Competition... he wanted you dead."

Ye Chen nodded, stood up, walked to the water vat, scooped up some water, and splashed it on the man's face.

The shock of the cold water made the man shiver, clearing his mind slightly.

"Go back and tell Wang Teng," Ye Chen said, looking at him with a cold voice.

"If he wants to kill me, tell him to come himself. Sending trash like you is useless."

After speaking, he untied the rope, dragged the man to the courtyard gate, and kicked him out.

The man in black scrambled away and quickly disappeared at the end of the alley.

Ye Chen stood at the courtyard gate, watching the sky gradually brighten for a long time.

Then he turned back into the courtyard, drew some water, and washed away the blood.

He then dragged the corpse out of the woodshed, wrapped it in tattered cloth, hoisted it onto his shoulder, and left.

He walked through the streets still immersed in slumber to the mass grave outside the city, where he dug a pit and buried the body.

After finishing, Ye Chen stood before the mound of earth, looking at the sun just rising over the horizon.

The sunlight was blinding, and he narrowed his eyes.

The jade pendant on his chest felt warm.

He reached out to touch it, then turned and began to walk back.

His steps were steady, one after another.

Day had broken.

By the time he returned from burying the body, the day was fully bright.

Voices gradually filled the streets. Breakfast stalls opened their doors, steamers emitted white vapor, and the fragrance of buns wafted through the air.

Ye Chen walked through the street at an unhurried pace, looking no different from those waking up early to buy groceries or go to work.

Returning to the West Courtyard, Xiaoyu was already up and cooking porridge at the stove.

Hearing the door, she turned around and saw Ye Chen; her eyes brightened slightly.

"Brother, you're back."

"Mhm."

Ye Chen walked to the water vat and scooped up water to wash his hands and face. The water was very cold, washing away the dirt from his hands as well as that scent of blood.

"The porridge is almost ready," Xiaoyu said softly.

"I put in an extra handful of rice."

Ye Chen nodded and sat down under the old locust tree in the courtyard, watching Xiaoyu work.

The porridge was soon ready, thick and with the rice grains boiled until they bloomed.

Xiaoyu served two bowls, handed one to Ye Chen, and held her own, taking small sips.

"Brother." She suddenly looked up.

"Last night... will those people from last night come again?"

Ye Chen's hand holding the porridge bowl paused, then he shook his head. "No, they won't."

"Really?"

"Really."

Xiaoyu looked at him for a long while before lowering her head to continue her porridge, though she ate even more slowly.

Ye Chen knew what she was thinking, but he didn't say much. Some things would only make her more afraid if spoken aloud.

After finishing the porridge, Ye Chen cleared the dishes, returned to the room, sat cross-legged, and began to regulate his breathing.

Last night's battle hadn't been long, but the exertion was significant.

Especially using the cold qi to interrogate the man in black at the end; it had consumed nearly thirty percent of the True Qi he had gained from refining the cold qi.

He closed his eyes, guiding his True Qi to flow slowly through his Meridians.

The jade pendant on his chest was warm. The cold qi he had absorbed and refined from Lin Qingxue's body swirled slowly in his Dantian like a small vortex.

He tried to draw another wisp of cold qi from the jade pendant, merging it into his True Qi to continue refining.

This time was smoother than the last. Although the cold qi entering his Meridians was still icy, it wasn't as bone-chilling as the first time.

His True Qi enveloped it, and after two hours of grinding, the sharp edges of the cold qi were smoothed out, and it merged in.

The coldness in his Dantian deepened by another degree.

When he opened his eyes, it was already noon.

Xiaoyu wasn't in the room; the sound of laundry being washed came from the courtyard.

Ye Chen stood up and walked to the door, seeing Xiaoyu squatting by the water vat, vigorously scrubbing the blood-stained clothes he had changed out of last night.

The clothes were a grey tunic; with the blood on them, they looked dark and very conspicuous.