Chapter 734

Yang Huaixi wiped the tears mixed with melted snow from his face and turned to walk into the bloody alley of the Black Market. The reek of rotting meat blended with the pungent stench of cheap moonshine rushed toward him. A beggar huddled in the corner flashed a malicious grin at two children. He held Douzi tightly against his chest, setting up a stall under a drafty eaves—though calling it a stall was generous; it was merely a battered wooden board with "Collecting Chinese Herbs" written on it, flanked by a half-basket of bupleurum and bellflower roots dug from the hills behind the village.