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When the enemy failed to kill He Lingchuan with a nightmare, they set another trap with the Fan brothers waiting in ambush.
Two attempts on his life in a single night. The methods were vicious in the extreme, displaying hatred so deep that it would not rest until he was dead.
If He Lingchuan’s luck had been even a little worse, Jiao Yu would probably be out shopping for his coffin by now.
And now, not even half a night later, they were already coming right to his door again.
This was beyond insolence. They were treating the title of the Crown Prince’s special envoy, as well as the authority of the ruler of Chiyan, as if it were nothing at all.
“Business first.” He Lingchuan patted the tiger on the head. “We’ll put both debts on the tab for now. I’ve got a feeling we’ll be settling accounts soon.”
Once the enemy had gone this far, resorting to means like these, there was no room left for compromise. The two sides were now enemies to the death.
And were Zhongsun Mou’s and the Cen household’s arrogance not also a sign that they were getting desperate?
During moments like these, the best thing to do is to stay calm.
So the urgent business that He Lingchuan attended to next was sneaking off to the street for a steaming bowl of savory rice porridge.
It was made by cooking diced dried tofu, diced radish, diced meat, and...
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