Old Ha's body lay on the bed, covered with a quilt, with only his feet exposed. The smell of blood was faint, indicating the assassin had cleaned up. If it weren't for Fan Xian's sensitive nose, trained by Fei Jie, he might have missed it.

Fan Xian remained quietly in the corner, the darkness concealing the assassin and himself.

He emulated the blind Wu Zhu's methods, striving for inner peace. His zhenqi flowed slowly within him, his heartbeat syncing harmoniously with the clamor from the street.

The assassin likely hadn't left. The agents of the Supervisory Council were known for their meticulousness. After poisoning Fan Xian, they would wait until nightfall to confirm the bastard's death before departing Danzhou Port under cover of darkness. And in this city, having impersonated Old Ha's nephew, the assassin undoubtedly knew this building best and wouldn't want to seek another observation point.

But the situation was unfolding differently than Fan Xian anticipated. He carefully observed the room, finding no one besides Old Ha's cold corpse on the bed.

He slowly moved along the wall into the room, careful not to bump into any furniture and make a sound. His gaze swept across the ceiling and inconspicuous corners.

Reaching the window sill, light streamed in. Old Ha clearly wasn't wealthy enough to afford glass, so the room wasn't very bright. Fan Xian stood quietly near the streaks of light, using the contrast between light and shadow to conceal his movements.

He stood there for a long time, then frowned. He wondered if he had miscalculated. Perhaps the poisoning assassin had already left Danzhou Port. If so, coming here first instead of controlling Butler Zhou was a mistake.

He walked to the bed, intending to examine the cause of death of the poor Old Ha. But as he neared the bed, he grew more tense because he heard a suppressed, very faint breathing sound. This person's breathing had been hidden by the clamor of the market until Fan Xian approached the bed.

The assassin, it turned out, had hidden behind Old Ha's body upon hearing someone enter.

The breathing behind the corpse on the bed was very steady, about seven breaths per minute. If Fan Xian didn't possess an unimaginable abundance of innate zhenqi and sharp hearing, he would never have heard it.

Fan Xian stopped, staring at the bed for a long time, unsure if it was a trap.

The cries of vendors representing life still came from outside the window, mingled with a faint sound from afar—it seemed to be a carriage coming this way.

He knew that the front of the building faced a vegetable market, and the road narrowed there, making it difficult for carriages to pass. So he gently gripped his dagger and waited quietly.

The assassin was also waiting behind the corpse. He hadn't seen who had entered the room, only that the person seemed to possess the same patience as him. After a long time, he felt he had underestimated the danger in Danzhou Port. He shouldn't have stayed here waiting to silence anyone who might trace back to him; he should have left as soon as possible.

…

…

A carriage slowly drove through the vegetable market, and the vendors on both sides began to curse. The coachman's troubled face was clearly visible; if he wasn't in a hurry, he wouldn't have taken this route.

With great difficulty, the vendors cleared a section of the road. The coachman thanked the people around him, then cracked his whip. The carriage moved forward, crushing a box of eggs. The egg vendor was furious and grabbed the reins. The entire market erupted in noise.

Inside the small building beside the market.

Hearing the loud noise outside, Fan Xian seized the opportunity to strike under its cover. With incredible speed, he raised his right foot, stomped on the ground, and leaped towards the bed. With a flick of his right hand, a slender dagger plunged viciously behind Old Ha's corpse!

In that instant, Fan Xian saw the assassin's face clearly: cold eyes, eyebrows somewhat scattered above the eye sockets, indicating a young age. His appearance was ordinary, except for his thick lips and dry skin on his cheeks.

The seemingly unprepared assassin on the bed suddenly moved his right hand. A small, black crossbow bolt pierced through his sleeve and shot out, aimed directly at Fan Xian's face—while Fan Xian's feet had just touched the ground, his right hand was already raised, leaving his chest and abdomen completely undefended.

The crossbow bolt flew very fast, like a ghostly light!

The moment the crossbow was triggered, Fan Xian reacted. Thanks to years of education from Wu Zhu's wooden stick, which was faster than a crossbow bolt, his toes touched the ground but didn't fully grip. His heel didn't touch down. Using the strength of his toes, he twisted, and his body shifted a few inches to the right in the air without any leverage.

The crossbow bolt grazed past Fan Xian's left cheek in a close call and embedded itself deeply in the wooden beam of the roof with a dull thud.

The assassin's face was filled with shock. He couldn't believe the person who came was the handsome young man who should have already died from poison. Even more unbelievable was that the boy could dodge a crossbow bolt fired at such close range!

At this moment, the slender dagger in Fan Xian's hand, following the direction of his twisting body, had already plunged into the assassin's body, making a nasty, muffled sound, like a cleaver chopping into pork. Unfortunately, Fan Xian's attack was slightly off due to dodging the crossbow bolt. The slender dagger only pierced the assassin's shoulder and didn't kill him.

The assassin sprang like an eel on the bed. His left hand flashed with a sharp edge, preparing to rise and deliver a fatal blow to Fan Xian—but the sudden, intense pain in his shoulder and a downward force made him involuntarily fall back down, and his fingers loosened their grip on the crossbow.

When he rose, he had prepared for the pain in his shoulder, but he hadn't expected it to be so severe. Moreover… the little boy's dagger had pierced through his shoulder and stabbed deeply into the bed board, pinning him down!

…

…

With the assassin's movements thwarted, Fan Xian's left hand swiftly gripped the assassin's throat. The assassin's plain and unremarkable face finally revealed fear of death. His thick lips parted slightly, as if preparing to say something.

Fan Xian's heart constricted, feeling a slight chill. He didn't give the assassin a chance to speak or retaliate. He tightened his grip, and with a crack, the assassin's neck broke. His head tilted to one side, and he died instantly.

His hand remained on the assassin's broken neck for a while, feeling the shattered bones and the blood seeping out and gradually cooling, before finally withdrawing his hand and squatting down, gasping for breath.