In a blink of an eye, not sure if it was out of being over-emotional or impulsive, Zhang Chengling gripped the note tightly. Taking advantage of the current commotion, he quietly left Zhao Jing’s side and followed the strange man through the crowd.

No one noticed him except for Zhou Zishu.

Zhou Zishu always had half of his attention on Zhang Chengling, and his keen eyes immediately noticed and alarming him of the man shooting the note at the boy. Seeing that Zhang Chengling discarded all notions of danger and went after the man alone, he frowned and immediately abandoned the heroes’ quarrel to chase after the boy in secret.

The man seemed to be toying with him, disappearing as soon as Zhang Chengling followed him; but not long after that, there would be small rocks shooting at him from different directions, apparently mocking his extremely terrible qinggong, like a cat playing with a mouse.

Zhang Chengling gritted his teeth, unconsciously able to pursue further and further. He didn’t have an aptitude for these physical activities, and after he arrived at the Zhao’s Holdings, everyone was too busy about doing heroic deeds to remember to teach him more kungfu. Soon enough, his angry chase left him out of breath and dizzy. He could almost hear the sound of his pulse by the temples.

Never before had the spoiled boy been so angry with himself. He heard someone snort, “This is Zhang Yusen’s brat? What a waste.”

He thought, That’s right, you’re a waste, Zhang Chengling; why did uncle Li risk his life to save you?

Why did it have to be you?

The man then appeared in front of him, hands like claws twisting his neck. His gaze at Zhang Chengling was sinister. When the boy’s body warmth slowly started to disintegrate, he realized they were standing on deserted land.

Shadows appeared seemingly from nowhere behind the man with the same fashion, circling around Zhang Chengling.

The one who led him here laughed quietly and released him. He raised his voice, “My poorly hidden friend, why must you be so worked up over a boy like this?”

A man dressed in deep red stepped forward at that. On his face was a red birthmark, making his features incredibly formidable at first glance.

Zhang Chengling’s legs started to tremble, but he tried his best to keep his chin up and feigned courage at the man in red.

The man suddenly laughed, the dry sound not unlike that from a rusty fan, causing goosebumps to erupt across the skin. In just a blink, he materialized in front of Zhang Chengling and held the boy’s neck. His fingers were cold like a corpse’s, and for a brief moment Zhang Chengling mistook him for an undead.

Then the man asked softly. “Let me ask you: That night at the Zhang’s Holdings, did you see a man with a missing finger?”