Chapter 70: Old Dog

Chapter 70: Old Dog

This time, he feared he would fail!

Gu Yong could not fathom why, in the mere span of a single incense stick's burning, the situation had spiraled entirely out of his control.

Clearly, this was merely a struggle between the Gu and Wu clans; now, it had devolved into a chaotic melee.

These County Magistrates, who once wagged their tails and begged for mercy beneath his family's gate, meek and obedient to a fault, now bared their teeth at him, faces twisted with ferocity.

Gu Yong had seen through their identities long ago; he could even recite each of their names and the specific counties in Chengdu Prefecture where they served.

But now, tempted by the prospect of official appointment, these men had chosen to go all in. Verbal threats held no sway whatsoever. As for martial threats—

His capable lieutenants, Gu Jia and Li Jun, were nowhere to be found. Even the security personnel of his own department had been scattered to the winds.

The communication channels, for reasons unknown, were awash with static; he could not reach a single soul.

"A gentleman does not stand beneath a crumbling wall. Besides, I am merely a Confucian Scholar of the Ninth Rank."

Gu Yong barely maintained a facade of calm composure, his feet shifting imperceptibly backward by a single step.

But before his retreating foot could find purchase, another thought surged in his mind.

"If I fail to bring back this brain tissue slice, will Young Master Gu Xi spare me?"

The question required no deliberation; the answer was already self-evident.

For a moment, the helmsman of Shu Dao Logistics, a man whose word was law, stood on the street, his expression conflicted, his breathing ragged.

Like a mere lackey.

"Yang Huchou! The disciples of your second branch have already left. It is time you handed over the goods, is it not?"

Wu Jinfeng perched like an old dog on the signboard of a roadside grocery store.

His brocade robe was stained with blood; a mangled, bloody head served as a cushion beneath his buttocks. His whole body radiated a savage ferocity that stood in stark contrast to the timid Gu Yong in the distance.

Yang Huchou stood alone on the empty street, his Confucian robe tattered, barely covering his body. His exposed arms were withered like dead branches, yet they clung deathly tight to that scroll.

He looked around at the scattered figures surrounding him—a glance revealed fewer than a handful.

Fleeing from the Yang ancestral manor to this place had been a journey of nearly one life per step. Not only had the elites of both major conglomerates been nearly wiped out.

Even several Rank Eight County Magistrates, impatient in their greed, had been ambushed and killed on the road.

Come tomorrow's sunrise, quite a few Chief Clerks would likely be pleasantly surprised to find their superiors vanished into thin air, an eighth-rank official's hat falling from the sky into their laps.

Truly, some rejoice while others grieve.

But none of this concerned him any longer.

The disciples who had gone ahead to the underworld had waited long enough; it was time for him to descend and atone.

"Gentlemen, you have kept your word and spared a path of survival for my Yang clan's second branch. I, Yang Huchou, would naturally not break faith."

Yang Huchou ignored the mocking gazes around him. With a raise of his hand, he unfurled the scroll, and Yang Zhan, clad in a cyan official's robe, appeared before the crowd.

Though it was but a lifeless portrait, at this moment, a sense of reverence still rose in everyone's heart.

To be an official is no easy task; to be an official in the Great Ming Empire is even harder.

Moreover, Yang Zhan had risen from poverty, passing through every gate and slaying every foe, walking from a small Mianzhou county into the Golden Luan Hall, ultimately seizing the title of Zhuangyuan.

His life story was the stuff of legend.

Had such a figure not died young for reasons unspeakable, he would surely have become a titan of the Confucian world, his name etched in the annals of history.

The sentimental stirring vanished in a flash. All eyes converged on the chest of the man in the portrait.

The rank badge on that sixth-rank official's uniform should have depicted a pair of egrets; now, only one remained!

Where Yang Zhan's brain tissue slice was hidden was now self-evident.

In an instant, the expressions on the faces of the crowd shifted—some with delight, others with frowns.

The minds of those frowning were consumed by a single thought: Where is the other egret? Or rather, where is the other half of the brain tissue slice?

The fleeing Yang clan disciples clearly carried no portrait fragments on their persons; they were confident in their eyesight on this point.

Along the way, Yang Huchou had made no suspicious moves, yet the egret on the official's robe had undeniably vanished by half.

Where had the hitch occurred?!

Yang Huchou took in the confused gazes around him, his own heart churning with turmoil.

Everyone had seen him die beside that Grand Master's chair; no one should have been able to penetrate the secret.

As long as he could leave Mianzhou County alive, the Yang clan would still have a chance to rise!

My grandson, Baize, do not blame your grandfather for being ruthless.

With the resolve to die, Yang Huchou waved his hand and flung the scroll into the air.

"All of you, scram! Whoever dares touch this half-slice, the Wu clan will not spare your families afterward!"

"Wu Jinfeng, you old dog! Don't think you can swallow this whole!"

"Your clan is powerful; you can send men to chase those fleeing Yang disciples. That half is surely on them. Why fight us for this?"

"I want this half, and the other half won't escape either!"

"How tyrannical of the Wu family! So many here hold official rank—do you think we fear you? Can the Wu clan be stronger than the Imperial Court?"

"The Court? We Confucian clans ARE the Court!"

Wu Jinfeng took the lead, soaring into the air. He hurled the head he had been using as a stool at the man who had spoken.

Seeing Wu Jinfeng make himself the vanguard, the others, a step too slow, hurriedly followed, lunging for the scroll drifting in mid-air.

Even Gu Yong, shrinking to the side, felt his blood surge. Unable to resist, he took two steps forward.

For a moment, the wind howled along the entire street.

Yang Huchou watched these men—usually so sanctimonious, now like mad dogs fighting over food. A sudden surge of shame and indignation rose in his heart.

He had spent the first half of his life taking pride in being counted among them. Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous!

Yang Huchou let out a long, clear laugh and leapt up as well. Two fingers pressed together like a sword, he thrust at Wu Jinfeng's chest.

"Wu, you old dog! I've long found you an eyesore. Today, anyone can take this half—anyone but you!"

"Overestimating yourself!"

Wu Jinfeng sneered. A stream of autumn water slid from his sleeve; sword light coiled and slashed toward Yang Huchou.

Wu Jinfeng, arrogant and vindictive by nature, was known as the Old Dog.

But that did not prevent him from being a genuine Rank Eight expert. Though he had ascended via a sect's shortcut—a sequence weaker by a few degrees than those who climbed the official career path—

He had immersed himself in Rank Eight for many years. After taking the helm of Tianfu Heavy Industry, he had used the conglomerate's resources to pile his Six Arts proficiency to an extremely high level.

It was just that he rarely needed to act personally, so almost no one knew his true strength.

Even an old rival like Gu Yong only knew Wu Jinfeng was no easy target.

Conversely, Yang Huchou, though a veteran official of many years, was a conservative who refused prosthetic modification. His flesh and blood had long since run dry, his lamp empty.

With one waxing and the other waning, Yang Huchou could not block Wu Jinfeng's sword light in the least. One arm was shredded to mincemeat; his chest was pierced straight through by a sword.

After thekilling, Wu Jinfeng’s murderous aura grew even more terrifying; his long sword swept out, unexpectedly drawing all four of the surrounding Ru Ba who had moved to snatch the prize into its vortex.

This old dog intends to kill first, plunder later!

Just then, a piercing, fierce guzheng melody suddenly rang in Wu Jinfeng’s ears!

Cold light descended from the heavens!

"Old Dog Wu, your life is forfeit!"

Zhao Qingxia’s brows soared with spirit, an inexplicable, surging emotion radiating from him.

It was the generous righteousness of drawing one’s blade for a brother against the strong!

Yet from the exoskeleton armor on his body came Lord Ma’s resentful voice, "It’s over, I miscalculated; this is going to be a catastrophic loss."