The Demon Lords

In the stables at the entrance of the post station, there were many horses and two horse carts. However, Hui Wenzu's Pi Beast was nowhere to be seen.

Perhaps thinking his injured left leg wouldn't be suitable for riding, and the fact he had to bring another person along, Mr. Chen opted for one of the horse carts.

Mr. Chen drove the cart, while Zheng Fan leaned casually against his side.

As the cart galloped, the cold wind of the winter night seemed to continuously slap against their faces.

To prevent Zheng Fan from bleeding to death, Mr. Chen had managed to stem the flow of his Qi and blood. However, this caused an incredibly uncomfortable sensation.

Even breathing felt strenuous. Each breath felt like a battle, his lungs seeming to WHIR like bellows, and each heartbeat felt like a heavy hammer being mercilessly slammed against his ears.

Mr. Chen's horse-driving skills were quite good. Though not as effortless as Blind Bei's, the horses seemed to know how to make things easy for themselves, running wild and fast.

Zheng Fan continuously scanned the surroundings, but unfortunately, there were no sounds of pursuing horses from behind.

One thing puzzled Zheng Fan. The post station was situated on the outskirts of Yin City. Yin City, as the capital, had a reputation somewhat like Haikou compared to Sanya in later times. Regardless, Yin City was a large city with a garrison. Hui Wenzu had left early. Unless he was a fool, he would have gone directly to Yin City to summon troops. With the Yin City troops, surrounding the post station or catching up with their cart wouldn't have been a problem.

Yet everything was eerily silent.

Mr. Chen seemed to guess Zheng Fan's thoughts and spoke up,

"Although I'm also unsure why, I know that the post station will remain quiet tonight."

"Why ... why?" Zheng Fan asked with difficulty.

Actually, he could guess why this situation had occurred. It was clear that an internal faction of Yan State had colluded with these assassins, providing arrangements and cover for their actions. The post station, while not a military stronghold, was far from an ordinary inn. According to standard procedure, any incident there would quickly be detected by the relevant parties, who would then respond immediately. In other words, the internal faction in Yan State colluding with these assassins must wield considerable influence. But this was what puzzled Zheng Fan the most: why would such a powerful faction target him?

Although Zheng Fan wasn't exactly a paragon of virtue. Indeed, from the perspective of those in power, ordering the execution of him and his seven subordinates could even be deemed "extremely wise" and "far-sighted." The problem, however, was that Zheng Fan didn't believe any faction had a reason to go to such lengths against him right now. Yet, the Mr. Chen sitting beside him was undeniably real.

As for Chahe Village, Zheng Fan genuinely hadn't ordered any massacre there. He truly hadn't ordered the slaughter of a village. But right now, Zheng Fan couldn't be bothered to argue with Mr. Chen about it. If he were to insist he hadn't massacred Chahe Village, Mr. Chen's mind might just snap, and he'd roar, "Have you already killed Xiao Hua, Niuniu, and Ni'er?!" And then, Mr. Chen would draw his sword and put an end to his sinful, filthy life.

The cart galloped swiftly. Along the way, they passed some merchant caravans and saw some commoners traveling at night. Zheng Fan didn't call out, nor did he bother to make any signals.

Besides, Zheng Fan rather hoped Mr. Chen would safely escort him to the vicinity of Green Willow Fortress.

Perhaps because Zheng Fan had been so well-behaved on the journey, Mr. Chen's attitude towards Zheng Fan softened somewhat. He was, fundamentally, a good man—genuinely good, not just superficially so. This was a truth that even Zheng Fan, the one he intended to kill, couldn't deny. But it wasn't that Zheng Fan planned to deceive this honest man; it was this honest man who intended to kill him for a crime he hadn't committed.

"Not many people practice swordsmanship in Yan State."

Zheng Fan hesitated. Was Mr. Chen trying to chat with him?

After a moment's thought, Zheng Fan replied with great effort,

"Sabers... are a bit better for hacking barbarians."

"I've always heard that the barbarians of the desert are quite formidable, but I've yet to witness it myself."

"If you get the chance, you could go and see. The desert... it's a different world, a different scene altogether."

"Really?"

"Yes, once you've been to the desert and seen the barbarians, you will better understand the Yan people."

"You have a very unique way of speaking."

"Is it... distinctive? Pleasant to listen to?"

Mr. Chen was an honest man. Upon hearing this, he nodded and said,

"Yes."

"You could spare me, and I could talk to you every day."

Zheng Fan wasn't being disingenuous. Truthfully, he didn't want to trick such an endearingly naive fellow. If he could turn an enemy into a friend, that would be for the best.

"You, must die."

"Alright, I understand."

"Actually, in my view, there is no difference between the Yan, Qian, Jin, or Chu people. We are all human."

"That's not true. 'A citrus tree grown south of Huai River yields citrus fruit, but north of Huai River, it yields Zhizi...'"

"I know what citrus and Zhizi are, but where are 'south of Huai River' and 'north of Huai River'?"

"Legend has it that there's a river in the heavens called the Huai River. 'South of Huai River' refers to its southern bank, and 'north of Huai River' refers to its northern bank."

"Do citrus trees grow in heaven?"

"Heaven even has rabbits. It's said that when Chang'e flew to the moon, she took a male and a female rabbit with her, and they then multiplied, producing many offspring."