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Zhao Qinghe’s sharp eyes spotted him first and yanked him out by the collar. “Trying to slip through, are you?”
The man’s face was dripping with sweat. “Sir, please, I’m in a hurry!”
“You were the one who told your comrades to throw those children off the cliff, weren’t you?” Zhao Qinghe’s gaze was cold and incisive.
The fellow waved his hands frantically. “Not me, not me!”
He Lingchuan tilted his head. By torchlight, he could make out the man’s face clearly.
The brigand knew the jig was up. With a sudden snarl, he whipped a short dagger from his belt and launched a strike at Zhao Qinghe’s ribs.
The strike was viciously fast. Zhao Qinghe barely had time to raise his guard when a glint of steel flashed before his eyes, and then the brigand was suddenly airborne, flung sideways off the mountain road.
His scream trailed long and thin as he vanished...
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