On the city wall, the spies took their crossbows from their waists and hid behind the battlements, their eyes fixed on the darkness below.
Jin Zhu paced back and forth, his usual calm demeanor nowhere to be seen.
Every now and then, he would lean over the wall to check on Chen Ji, only relaxing slightly when he confirmed that Chen Ji was unharmed.
He was like a gambler at a Pai Gow table, constantly checking his cards, worried he might have misread them or that his opponent might cheat and flip the table.
It was as if Chen Ji wasn’t betting his own life, but Jin Zhu’s.
Fortunately, perhaps due to Tian Ma’s presence, the Liu family members hidden among the refugees had not made a move to assassinate Chen Ji.
They lay low like venomous insects, waiting for the hour of Mao.
Tian Ma stood by the battlement, looking down.
Below, Chen Ji sat alone against the city wall, eyes closed as if asleep, completely unbothered by his surroundings.
Tian Ma glanced at Jin Zhu and gestured: A newcomer? He’s got guts, like a madman.
Jin Zhu’s face turned as bitter as an eggplant: “I might fall back to the Houtian realm. This kid is going to get himself killed sooner or later!”
Tian Ma was surprised: You actually bet on him? His eyes showed a hint of pity.