After the Immortals disappeared

He Lingchuan thought for a moment. "Get them fresh clothes, clean them up, and give them a couple of good meals. No matter how much they curse, you smile and take it. Also, keep an eye on Chen Laoqi—don't let him run off. He mangled their backside; maybe his own will be the next to get split open."

The Red-White Path follower nodded but hesitated. "Young Master, we can't afford to offend Eastern Commandery. If we release them now…"

Earlier, Red-White Path had acted boldly, believing the two guards were as good as dead. Dead men tell no tales, so what did it matter if they were roughed up?

But now, with orders to release them, the group was understandably uneasy.

"Relax," He Lingchuan said. "They need us, so they won't sweat the small stuff. Besides, this is Qiansong County, Blackwater City. Haven't you heard the saying? A strong dragon doesn't crush a local snake."

The Red-White Path member took his leave, and He Lingchuan turned to find his younger brother still watching him with concern.

"Brother, how will we explain this to Father?" He Yue asked.

"A minor misunderstanding," He Lingchuan replied with a breezy laugh. "Eastern Commandery will prioritize the bigger picture. This is no big deal!"

He Yue remained silent. What was a trivial matter to the Grand Marshal could be a life-altering disaster for the He family.

What is a mountain to us is mere dust to them.

The wind rustled through the garden, scattering leaves. For the first time, the He family's younger son truly felt the helplessness of being a small player in a game controlled by giants.

It's a hard pill to swallow.

"What's wrong?" He Lingchuan asked, noticing his brother's gloomy expression.

"Nothing," He Yue replied with a forced smile. "I'll take my leave now."

As He Yue walked away, Uncle Hao approached He Lingchuan. His demeanor was off.

"What happened?" He Lingchuan asked.

"Young Master, Little Gray is dead."

He Lingchuan froze. "What? How?"

"He didn't return last night. I found his body near the cliff at Hulu Mountain," Uncle Hao said, his voice hoarse. "His wings and abdomen were pierced, his blood turned dark green from poison. But the fatal blow was someone twisting his neck."

"Year Songyu and Sun Fuping!" He Lingchuan clenched his fists. He saw the redness in Uncle Hao's eyes and felt a pang of guilt. "Sending Little Gray to spy on them was my idea. I'm sorry."

Little Gray, a hawk demon, had been Uncle Hao's companion since childhood. For decades, they had shared meals, drinks, and even battles. Little Gray wasn't just a pet; he was family.

Uncle Hao shook his head, his voice filled with quiet rage. "You didn't kill him, so there's no need to apologize. But why did they have to kill him? Interrogating him would've sufficed. Find out who did it—was it the National Preceptor or that bastard Year Songyu?"

"I will," He Lingchuan promised. "But you can't act rashly. Even if you want revenge, no one in Jinzhou can stand against them."

"Little Gray saved my life—twice," Uncle Hao said, his voice steely. "I won't let his death go unanswered."

"If you rush in now, you'll just be throwing your life away," He Lingchuan said, his tone firm. "The Panlong Desert is a deathtrap. Even if they return alive, their strength will be greatly diminished—assuming they return at all."

He placed a reassuring hand on Uncle Hao's shoulder. "Wait ten days. Your chances of revenge will increase tenfold. And if the opportunity arises, Father and I will support you."

The National Preceptor was a walking weapon of the state. Seeking vengeance now was suicide.

"Does Father know?"

Uncle Hao shook his head. "I came to you first."

He Lingchuan removed a jade ring from his finger and took a pearl necklace from his pocket, pressing them into Uncle Hao's hands. "Take three days off. Rest, drink a little—just not too much. I'll call you if anything comes up."

The jade ring was adorned with a large ruby, a gaudy but expensive piece. The necklace was strung with pearls the size of bird eggs, perfectly matched and of extraordinary value.

Uncle Hao accepted the items, standing motionless for a moment before nodding and leaving.

Money can't replace a loved one, but it can ease the sting of loss.

After Uncle Hao left, He Lingchuan sank onto a stone bench in the garden.

Trouble really does fall from the sky.

Little Gray's death the previous night meant Year Songyu and Sun Fuping had already learned of the He family's connection to their quarry before they even arrived at the estate.

Was their visit a diplomatic prelude to coercion?

With their status and authority, could He Chunhua even refuse them?

Yet the thought of handing over the leopard's corpse and playing the role of sacrificial pawn left He Lingchuan seething.

Those two had destroyed the leopard's den, causing him to fall off a cliff and nearly die. Now they'd killed Little Gray on He family land.

And they expected He Chunhua to send men to their deaths in the Panlong Desert to fetch the Dafang Jar, only to claim all the glory for themselves?

He Lingchuan hugged his head and sighed deeply. What right do we have to fight back?

Just then, a white feather drifted down in front of him.

He caught it absentmindedly, twirling it between his fingers.

Wait a minute.

An idea struck him.

After his injury, Uncle Hao had been reassigned to guard him. Little Gray, meanwhile, was always kept outside the estate, as demons were not allowed inside.

How much could Little Gray have actually known?

Uncle Hao was a man of few words. Anything he knew, Little Gray might not have learned.

From the perspective of Year Songyu and Sun Fuping, whatever they had extracted from Little Gray must have been vague at best.

They might not even know the leopard's corpse is here.

They definitely don't know the relic is in my possession.

With so many uncertainties, they wouldn't dare act recklessly against local powers. Coercion and persuasion were safer bets.

Realizing this, He Lingchuan stood up and dusted himself off.

No need to scare myself.

He decided to visit his father at the government office.

…

He Chunhua was writing furiously when his son entered. Hearing He Lingchuan's account, his pen paused mid-stroke.