Lead-gray clouds churned over Qinglan City, like a mess of tangled hemp twisted by an invisible hand. Ye Fan stood beneath the flying eaves of Wanhua Tower, the hem of his dark robe fluttering in the wind, his eyes reflecting the dim shadows looming within the clouds. He tapped his chest lightly—the Yuanqi within his Inner World had been surging unceasingly since last night, like a school of deep-sea fish sensing an approaching storm.
"That old scoundrel Fatty Sun has been cursing in the cell for three full days and nights." Old Li's sigh drifted up from downstairs, his hand trembling slightly as he held his teacup. "The jailer said this morning that his nephew brought over thirty out-of-town men into the city, every last one with an iron ruler tucked into his belt."
Ye Fan lowered his gaze to the bustling street below. Old Zhang, the hawker selling candied haws, was bending over to pick up the hawthorns blown down by the wind, while Xiaohong stood on tiptoe to help him steady the straw bundle, the red hair ribbon in her braids standing out brightly against the gloomy clouds. His Adam's apple bobbed—among the children rescued yesterday, there was a little girl wearing a red hair ribbon just like Xiaohong's, the exact same age.
Chapter 40