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“Can you handle it?” He Lingchuan asked.
“I can.” Fushan Yue immediately took away a portion of the baleful qi inside her, then carried her over to Fushan Ji’s carriage.
Inside the carriage was a long chest, though it looked more like a coffin, with an array embedded in it. With a slight adjustment, it could almost completely isolate the girl from the outside world.
The pariah slave saw that his master had changed, and he eagerly poured tea, brought water, and waited hand and foot on Fushan Yue and Peach with exaggerated diligence.
He Lingchuan watched him eat in a corner far from the firelight. It looked like a bowl of gruel. Everyone else sat. He, however, could only squat or kneel.
“Hey.” He Lingchuan called to him and tossed him an apple.
The pariah did not bite into it right away. He first checked the Chiyan men’s faces; when he saw that they did not care, he bowed to He Lingchuan three times, then scuttled into the shadows and began chewing with quick, chattering bites.
The sound was oddly like a rat.
One of the Chiyan men saw it and chuckled at He Lingchuan. “Don’t let the pitiful look fool you. This bastard beat his wife and one of his daughters to death with his own hands.”
Once the caravan was settled, the moon had already begun descending west. Everyone seized...
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