Under the solitary lamp, Old Master Gale sat quietly, his brows tightly furrowed.
Right in front of him, a small group of three or five people had gathered in the main hall, and the atmosphere felt faintly somber.
The servant, Gao Cai, bowed and said, "Master, in my opinion, those who claim to be the young master's friends are indeed suspicious. Just think—why would a monk be traveling with people who look like bandits? And the young master's expression is clearly off."
"The young master came to the Gale estate at the age of six. All these years, whenever he left on business, I always followed closely, and never once saw him visit any friends. He also said his parents passed away, and I've never seen him send or receive a single letter. There must be something deeper going on here—perhaps... perhaps we should report this to the authorities?"
"Report to the authorities?" Old Master Gale's hand, holding the teacup, paused slightly. He opened his dim old eyes and looked at Gao Cai.
"Yes, Master." A man who looked like a tenant farmer stepped forward and said, "Two of those people are carrying weapons—they're clearly not good folk. It's better to report to the authorities."
"Yes, we should report it to the authorities."
"Right, it's safer to let the authorities handle it. If it's really a misunderstanding, they'll sort it out."
The people around immediately echoed the suggestion, one after another.
After hesitating for a long while, Old Master Gale simply waved his hand and said, "Forget it... Let's wait until I've discussed it with Gavin. On such a joyous day, it's best not to let anything go wrong."
At that moment, on a mountain peak fifty li from Gao Village, Gavin gripped a longsword gleaming coldly as he circled Simon Sun, who stood unmoving.
From beginning to end, his gaze remained locked on Simon Sun.
“Why have you really come to Gao Village?” Gavin demanded.
Simon Sun glanced at the sword in Gavin’s hand and chuckled softly. “You’re not thinking of fighting me with that broken sword, are you? Where’s your Nine-Toothed Rake?”
“What weapon I use is none of your concern.” Gavin shot back.
“Oh... I get it. The Nine-Toothed Rake must still be in Heaven, and you didn’t bring it down when you descended, right? Want me to have someone send it to you?” Simon Sun teased.
Gavin halted, pointing his sword at Simon Sun and barking, “Stop dodging the question. Speak! Why are you here?”
The sword tip aimed at Simon Sun trembled slightly in the wind.
Simon Sun shot Gavin a faint glance, drew a deep breath, and lifted his chin with a cocky air. “I told you, we came to borrow lodging, but you refuse to believe it and force me to lie. Marshal Silver, even in our old wars, I never needed to lie to you—today, even less. To strangle you, one hand would be enough.”
With that, he cackled.
Gavin’s face grew even darker.
He stepped forward, sword in hand, but suddenly seemed to realize something and stopped, standing motionless with the blade gripped tightly.
The night wind swept past them, rustling the shadows of the trees.
Simon Sun slowly sat cross-legged, hunched over and sighed, “Tell me, does your father-in-law know you’re a pig demon?”
“What are you trying to say?” Gavin retorted.
“Nothing much, just asking. Poor old man—if he found out his son-in-law was a pig demon, would it kill him from the shock?” Simon Sun said lightly.
Gavin’s eyes twitched; he stared wide-eyed, veins bulging on the hand gripping his sword.
Simon Sun still sat there, unfazed, picking up a stone from the ground and idly turning it in his hand. “And what about Miss Gale? If she knew her husband was a pig demon, would she die of fright? If I’m not mistaken, she’s the reincarnation of Fairy Nisha, isn’t she?”
“You—!” Gavin sputtered.