Chapter 93: Encountering the Old Man Again

“This is simple. Older folks don’t like to wander far… For the old man to attend the poetry gathering, he must live near Flowing Pavilion; otherwise, he wouldn’t have bothered to join the festivities.”

With that, Gu Ning’an turned and said, “Let’s head toward Flowing Pavilion first. Once we’re nearby, we can wake Yuanqiu up and have it sniff around for the old man’s location.”

Hearing this, the group quickly followed. The old beggar caught up to Gu Ning’an’s side and asked, “It’s fine to have Yuanqiu sniff around, but we don’t have anything belonging to the old man for it to use as a scent reference.”

Gu Ning’an chuckled. “That’s not necessary. Once we’re there, just have it follow the smell of blood.”

“Blood?” The old beggar repeated, his eyes widening. “Mr. Gu, are you saying the old man might also encounter assassins sent by the Sun family?”

Gu Ning’an nodded. “With Young Master Sun’s vindictive nature, his grudge against the old man is likely no less than what he holds against us.”

Hearing this, the old beggar became anxious. “Then we should hurry! If assassins are really after him, we might be able to lend a hand.”

“Lend a hand? Can you even fight them?” Gu Ning’an asked with a smile.

“Uh…” The old beggar paused, stammering after a while, “Well… as long as it doesn’t endanger us, offering some help wouldn’t hurt…”

Gu Ning’an shook his head. “Maybe he doesn’t even need your help.”

“Yuanqiu, sniff hard. Memorize this bloody scent and see if there’s anything similar nearby.” As he spoke, the old beggar rubbed Yuanqiu’s head against the bloodstains on his clothes.

Having rested, Yuanqiu seemed much more energetic. It sniffed intently for a moment, then let out a sharp “woof!”

The old beggar gently placed it on the ground, and Yuanqiu bolted forward with a “whoosh!”

In the blink of an eye, Yuanqiu was at the end of the street. Noticing that the group hadn’t followed, it barked loudly, “Woof! Woof! Woof!”

Its powerful barks were a stark contrast to its earlier half-dead demeanor, as though it were an entirely different dog.

“Wasn’t Yuanqiu lame? How is it running so fast now?” Wei Hai muttered, his mouth twitching.

The old beggar rubbed his cheek, glanced at Gu Ning’an, and shook his head. “Who knows?”

“Let’s go. If we don’t, Yuanqiu might get impatient,” Gu Ning’an urged as he strode forward, the others hastening to keep up.

After about the time it takes to brew a pot of tea, Yuanqiu led the group to a secluded residence in a bustling area.

The courtyard had an elegant, classical design, exuding an air of luxury at first glance.

“It’s late at night—why is the front gate ajar?” The old beggar frowned.

Without replying, Gu Ning’an stepped forward but didn’t push the door open. Instead, he cupped his hands and called out, “Sir, this is Gu Ning’an. We met earlier today… I apologize for disturbing you late at night. May we come in?”

After a moment, the old man’s deep, resonant voice replied from inside, “Come in!”

Hearing the familiar voice, the group’s eyes lit up—they knew they had found the right place.

Walking at the back, Wei Hai gave Yuanqiu a thumbs-up. “Good dog.”

Yuanqiu bared its teeth. “Woof!”

Inside the courtyard, there was a stone table. On it lay a blood-stained longsword and a jug of wine.

The old man, dressed in simple robes with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, sat beside the table. His cheeks were slightly flushed as he sipped from the wine jug in small, measured gulps.

On either side of the courtyard, like piles of sandbags, lay the lifeless bodies of black-clad assassins, stacked one on top of another. A rough count revealed over twenty corpses.

The thick stench of blood permeated the air, enough to churn the stomachs of anyone present.

Gu Ning’an walked up to the old man, cupped his hands, and greeted him. “Sir.”

The old man smiled and nodded. “No need for formalities, Mr. Gu. Please, take a seat.”

At the courtyard entrance, the old beggar picked up Yuanqiu again and stood with Wei Hai and Li Xunshan, all three of them staring at the scene inside with wide-eyed shock.

Wei Hai lowered his voice. “Does Mr. Gu have bad eyesight? This old man killed so many people and is calmly drinking wine—clearly, he’s no ordinary person!”

The old beggar hesitated for a moment before replying, “Forget it. Let’s just go in.”

With that, he carried Yuanqiu and strode into the courtyard. Li Xunshan followed, and after shivering at the sight, Wei Hai reluctantly closed the door behind him and joined them.

After greeting the old man in turn, the three sat down.

“I had planned to come and rescue you,” the old man said, taking another sip of wine, his tone carrying a hint of helplessness. “But not knowing where you were staying, I decided to attract more assassins here instead to ease the pressure on you.”

Wei Hai frowned. “How did you know we encountered assassins too?”

The old man pointed at the blood-soaked old beggar and chuckled. “I’m not blind. Besides, if Young Master Sun wants me dead, how could he possibly spare you?”

Wei Hai nodded. “You people… how does your brain work? Always so sharp.”

He continued, “And you—aren’t you older than Old Wen? You’re just a scholar, so how did you manage to kill so many assassins?”

The old man smiled and asked in return, “Who says scholars are defenseless?”

Gu Ning’an interjected, “The six arts of a gentleman: propriety, music, archery, charioteering, calligraphy, and mathematics. Among these, archery and charioteering are related to martial skills. A scholar excelling in both intellect and physical prowess may not be common, but it’s certainly not unheard of.”

Wei Hai nodded thoughtfully. “I see.”

Suddenly—tap.

A faint sound broke the quiet. The old man, mid-drink, raised his hand, grabbed the longsword on the table, and hurled it forcefully.

Whoosh!

The sword turned into a streak of light, slicing past Wei Hai’s ear by just two inches.

Before anyone could react, a blood-curdling scream erupted from one corner of the courtyard.

Everyone except Gu Ning’an turned to look.

In the corner of the courtyard, a masked black-clad figure was pinned to the wall by the longsword, the blade piercing straight through his heart.

Wei Hai rubbed his ear, visibly shaken. “Sir, could you give us a warning next time? If I’d instinctively dodged just now, my ear might’ve been cut off…”

“My apologies,” the old man said with a slight bow. “Young friend Li, could I trouble you to retrieve my sword? My age makes me reluctant to move.”

“Of course,” Li Xunshan replied, immediately standing. He pulled the sword free, wiped the blood off the blade with the assassin’s clothing, and returned it to the table.

“Thank you, young friend.” The old man placed the sword back on the table and smiled. “Now, you still haven’t told me—what brings you here to find me?”

Hearing this, the old beggar cupped his hands and asked, “Sir, before we proceed, may I know your esteemed name?”

The old man swallowed another mouthful of strong wine and replied with a smile, “My surname is Qi, and my given name is Yuan.”

“Qi Yuan!” the old beggar exclaimed, raising his voice. “Are you Qi Yuan, the Imperial Preceptor of the Great Qian dynasty?”

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