Chapter 1566: The Vengeful Ghost: Good and Evil Will Be Rewarded in the End (2/5, please subscribe)

"Lord Bu truly is a man among men; cooperating with Lord Bu has been a real pleasure!"

"My lord overpraises me!"

Bu Ying's face was wreathed in smiles as he saw the Dongying general out the door, his heart blooming with joy.

"Dongying people's money is really easy to earn!"

Just now, he had once again closed a deal with the Dongying people, making over ten thousand silver dollars.

As for the price, of course it was selling out some former comrades.

"Bah, once you have money, who'd still be comrades with those penniless wretches!"

Being a hero, fighting bandits and Dongying people, meant being so poor every day one could only eat steamed cornbread.

He had truly had enough of those days.

Ever since he betrayed his friends and sold out the nation's interests, he had long since earned himself overflowing coffers and lived so well that grease ran from his mouth with every meal.

Money, now that is truly a fine thing.

Though in the dead of night when dreams returned, he would occasionally feel a faint pang, a trace of uneasy conscience.

But the moment he thought of that gleaming white silver, those delicious delicacies, those beauties he could have at his beck and call—

he would cast all that "conscience" stuff to the ends of the earth.

Bang!

In the night, a sudden thunderous crash rang out, as though some heavy object had hit the ground.

Bu Ying started, his body moving in a flash—swift as an eagle or falcon—as he darted to hide in a corner of the wall.

Peeping outside, he saw the Dongying man who had just been chatting and laughing with him lying face-down on the ground, not moving at all.

"My lord?" Bu Ying called out softly.

"No need to call!"

An icy voice rang out, and the next moment, a dark shadow appeared atop the wall.

Bu Ying started, hastily drawing his gun and firing.

But the draw met only empty air.

The newcomer gently swayed a finger, and on that finger a black object was spinning—it was none other than his sidearm.

"The gun is with me!"

Bu Ying's gaze hardened.

The newcomer was truly fearsome.

He, the foremost martial hero of Guanzhong, hadn't even noticed when his sidearm had been taken.

This person was absolutely the strongest foe he had encountered since his debut.

"Who are you?" Bu Ying's eyes were sharp.

"Who am I? Heh heh!" The newcomer laughed lightly. "Aren't you familiar with my voice?"

The newcomer turned, letting the moonlight fall upon his face.

Beneath the moon, the newcomer's features appeared clearly before Bu Ying's eyes.

One glance was enough—Bu Ying was scared out of his wits.

"Y-you... Yan Biao, are you man or ghost?!"

He remembered it very clearly.

Yan Biao had long been dead, killed along with his wife and children at the hands of bandits.

Of the Yan family, only Yan Shuangying remained, and in the end Bu Ying had taken him in as a disciple, making him a pawn in his hand.

A man who had died long ago suddenly appearing—truly too horrifying.

Yan Biao snorted coldly: "That doesn't matter. In any case, you're about to die!"

As he spoke, he drifted lightly to the ground and slowly walked toward Bu Ying.

"I kindly protected you, yet ended up with my family ruined and dead. And you—fine person that you were, you chose to be a dog of a traitor!"

"Bu Ying, when you think of those comrades you betrayed, does your conscience give you even half a shred of unease?"

Yan Biao was like a wounded fierce tiger, his eyes filled with a man-devouring murderous glint.

Toward traitors, his hatred knew no bounds.

Dealing with such a person—even hacking him into a thousand pieces would barely vent the hatred.

"Conscience?"

Bu Ying suddenly burst out laughing. "How much is conscience worth? If I were still clinging to conscience, could I be living in a mansion this big now?"

Bu Ying straightened his back, sizing up Yan Biao, his face blooming with a confident, composed radiance.

"You should know that I am the foremost martial hero of Guanzhong."

"I know!"

"Then how dare you come this close?" Bu Ying sneered. "Even after dying once, you're still just as stupid!"

As he spoke, a flash of cold light suddenly appeared, reaching Yan Biao's throat in an instant.

"Simply seeking death!"

Bu Ying sneered, smug and triumphant.

Suddenly, his gaze hardened, his eyes full of disbelief.

He saw Yan Biao's hand appear, as if by magic, right before his throat, pinching the cold flash between his fingers.

It was a flying dagger gleaming with a chilling light.

It was precisely the foremost martial hero of Guanzhong's ghostly flying-dagger art.

Able to train someone like Yan Shuangying—half man, half ghost, peerless with the gun—Bu Ying's marksmanship and Wu Gong were naturally extraordinary.

Only, the one he had run into was no ordinary person—it was Yan Biao, a true qi realm cultivator.

The skill that had made him stand out among ordinary men was, in Yan Biao's eyes, nothing more than a cheap trick.

"How could this be!"

Bu Ying's voice trembled.