Wei Li really wanted to say, "If you like it, then take it," but after thinking about it, he didn't say it.
"What bargaining chips do you have?" Wei Li asked.
Fu Ming turned around and pointed to the four coffins parked in the distance.
"On the way here, I met a girl named Ban Lan. The name sounds familiar. She seems to be the darling of the new, no, almost new master." Fu Ming didn't look at Cen Ji, but Cen Ji suddenly opened his eyes, his eagle-like gaze seemingly capable of tearing Fu Ming apart.
Wei Li's heart sank, but he remained calm and said, "Why would you need four coffins to carry a young girl?"
Fu Ming chuckled and said, "Not at all, not at all. Our Dragon Gate Sect has ordered a coffin for everyone in Kongshan Ridge, and many more are being transported up the mountain. They haven't arrived yet, but a young girl has already taken one on the way. However, this coffin is very well sealed. I wonder if the young girl will be alright after being inside for so long..."
Before Fu Ming could finish speaking, he felt a chill on his neck; a gleaming dagger was pressed against his neck.
Fu Ming's expression remained unchanged, but inwardly he couldn't help but look at Cen Ji's swift and agile movements with new respect.
“Young man, why don’t you…” Fu Ming really wanted to say, why don’t you join the Dragon Gate Sect?
But Cen Ji didn't give him a chance to speak at all.
"Release them." Cen Ji's voice was colder than a blade.
“Okay.” Fu Ming surprisingly agreed very readily.
"Hey you, release them!" Fu Ming turned around and shouted at the Dragon Gate Cult members.
As he turned his head, a thin, bloody mark appeared on his neck from Huaying's blade.
Cen Ji was taken aback. Although his painted shadow was only touching Fu Ming's skin, anyone under the pressure of the dagger would not dare to move rashly, but Fu Ming casually turned his head to talk to his servants, as if that bloodstain was not on his neck.
Upon receiving the order, the members of the Longmen Sect immediately carried a coffin to the altar.
Cen Ji stopped what he was doing and rushed to the coffin in a few leaps. Just as he pushed open the heavy coffin lid, he suddenly heard Wen Moyin whisper behind him, "Be careful, it might be a trap!"
Go back to the mountain
The coffin lid was wide open.
There were no hidden weapons or traps.
Yes, there was only one person lying quietly, a young man in a blue shirt.
"The eighth day!" Cen Ji exclaimed in surprise.
On the eighth day of the lunar month, his face was pale and his eyes were closed, as if he had fainted.
Upon seeing this, Wen Moyin hurriedly ordered his servants to carry out the eighth day and hand it over to Doctor Sun for treatment.
Doctor Sun's expression was solemn. He gently pressed Chu Ba's wrist, then pinched his ankle, and looked up, saying, "His wrist bones are all shattered. I'm afraid... he's ruined. But thankfully, he's still alive."
Wen Moyin struggled to suppress her anger. The fact that she had been murdered on the eighth day of the month meant that her secret guards planted in various places might be in danger of being wiped out.
"Ah, wrong, wrong, it's not that one." Fu Ming waved his hand from afar. "When we went up the mountain, we encountered some obstacles, so we dealt with them and put them in the coffin. I didn't expect the servants to get them mixed up. Please forgive me."
Fu Ming originally wanted to make a few more jokes, but suddenly stopped talking.
He watched as the silent figure gradually straightened up, like a long sword slowly being drawn from its sheath.
He had never seen anyone's back view as serene as Cen Ji's, as strong as a reef that had withstood millions of years, yet exuding an indescribable desolation that made one's heart feel suffocated.
Fu Ming was somewhat stunned.
But just as he was stunned, Cen Ji moved. The black shadow that flashed by seemed to tear a crack in the blinding sunlight, and wherever the shadow went, everything was destroyed by the fierce killing intent.
"That should be the qualities an assassin should have, right?" Fu Ming thought.
Fu Ming watched as Cen Jiru was swept away by a strong wind and rushed towards the remaining three coffins.
Fu Ming suddenly realized that if he had a deputy like Cen Ji, he would be at least as good as the twenty henchmen who had come with him today. Perhaps Cen Ji wasn't the most skilled martial artist among the Kongshan Ridge's secret guards, but he was certainly the most meticulous in his thinking and the most composed in his actions. Fu Ming didn't know how Cen Ji could discern the strengths and weaknesses of his subordinates; he could always use feints to evade those who were difficult to deal with, while for those with inferior skills, he would strike with deadly precision.
Cen Ji knew he had lost too much blood and was not as steady as before. He knew that fighting head-on was not an option. Besides, his goal was not to fight those people, but to quickly push open the three heavy coffin lids.
Fu Ming stood with his hands behind his back, watching with a smile, seemingly having completely forgotten about the injury on his neck. He could tell that Cen Ji had just been seriously injured, and now, after desperately trying to save someone, his bandaged wound was starting to bleed again. If this continued, Cen Ji probably wouldn't be able to hold on for even an incense stick's time.
Upon seeing this, Wen Moyin gritted her teeth and quickly reached Cen Ji's side.
"Thank you." This thank you, though light as a fallen leaf, struck Wen Moyin's heart heavily.
He thanked her, even though he knew that wasn't what she wanted.
"If you die, you'll owe me that sword. Who will I turn to for repayment?" Wen Moyin sneered and brandished his sword.
Cen Ji smiled, but that smile vanished in an instant amidst the chilling sword energy filling the sky.
"You should release them." When Wei Li's voice rang out, Fu Ming seemed to only then remember that there was someone standing behind him.
Fu Ming looked up at the sky and said, "Let's take a gamble."
“I don’t like gambling.” Wei Li frowned.
Fu Ming let out a long sigh. This was the first time he had sighed since he had climbed the South Peak.
"Tell me, which lasted longer, your disciple's or your disciple's sweetheart's?"