Jiangnan Province, Jinzhou City.
Maoshan Avenue.
Dawn was just breaking. A black car sped along the straight highway, its taillights carving out a glowing trail as the wind it stirred scattered dry leaves by the roadside.
"Senior brother, are you sure there's no problem with Old Yu over there? The Daoist Alliance's investigation team is coming down—they might dig up something about him."
Jiang Hu drove, glancing in the rearview mirror at Fang Changle, who was sitting in the backseat with his eyes closed, resting.
Old Yu's hideout—those fish ponds—were right by Maoshan. Before this, Zhang Fan had already tipped off Jiang Hu, asking him to keep an eye out.
After all, if you trace the source of everything, it all came down to Xu Qinglai from Qingcheng Mountain and Lanting Bamboo chasing down Old Yu.
Now, a chain reaction had set off, the turmoil growing larger by the day.
Xu Qinglai was dead, Lanting Bamboo was dead.
