Chapter 382

"Oh no…"

Long Tutu's small face flushed red, she nervously twisted her fingers, "I've never been here before… My father only said if we got separated, I could come to Huaihua Alley in Dao City and look for 'Cheng's Restaurant,' and give the secret phrase… I didn't know it would be like this…"

She paused, then added softly in defense, "But the restaurant is great! Right by the street, lots of people coming and going, news travels fastest here, and it's completely unremarkable."

"I heard my father mention once that Uncle Yong's branch has been our Long family's most loyal household retainers for generations, always responsible for managing this outpost."

Upon hearing this, Chen Mu nodded and said nothing more.

Though the Long family isn't among the Eight Great Clans, their survival to this day clearly stems from unique strengths and deep foundations.

Such hidden agents, rooted in the common streets, passed down through generations, utterly unassuming yet absolutely loyal, are often safer and more reliable than heavily guarded secret locations.

Cheng Yong soon returned, holding a small package carefully wrapped in oil paper and sealed at the edges with black wax.

He carefully unfolded the oil paper, revealing a letter written on thick mulberry paper, neatly folded, and coated with an even layer of white wax on the outside.

He handed the letter to Long Tutu with both hands.

"Young Lady, this is the letter left by the Second Young Master."

Long Tutu took it, lightly scraped the wax seal with her fingernail, opened the letter, and quickly read it under the faint light streaming through the window.

Chen Mu did not lean in to look, merely waited quietly.

Soon, Long Tutu's face broke into a relieved smile; she folded the letter and slipped it back into her bosom, delighted, "My second brother is safe! The letter says that after he broke through that day, he suffered minor injuries and hid away to heal for several days."

"He's using other channels to search for my whereabouts, and has agreed that regardless of whether he finds news, he'll return here to meet up in three days."

"Then we'll wait here safely for three days," Chen Mu said at once, making his decision.

Since Long Fengfei clearly intends to return, waiting here is the most prudent choice.

"Will this… delay your affairs?"

Long Tutu looked up at Chen Mu, her eyes filled with gratitude and a touch of embarrassment.

"No problem."

Chen Mu's expression remained calm, "A few days won't matter. Besides, the situation in Dao City is complicated now—I can't let you be alone here."

Having saved Tutu, he naturally had to ensure she reached her family safely.

"Thanks a lot, Lao Chen!"

Long Tutu didn't pretend modesty, thanking him cheerfully.

Right away, the two of them settled in at Cheng's Restaurant.

The second floor had several clean guest rooms, normally reserved for the most trusted visitors.

With the Great Sacred-Demon War begun, though Dao City hadn't become a direct battlefield, the atmosphere was tense and people were terrified; his small restaurant, which mainly served neighbors, had already closed for several days.

Fortunately, they were restaurant owners by trade and managed this outpost, so their cellar held ample supplies—grain, cured meat, dried vegetables—enough to last a month without issue.

The first day passed peacefully.

Chen Mu spent most of his time in his room meditating, digesting the insights he'd gained from the lingering sword intent at Moonwatch Valley, consolidating his newly achieved Sword Intent Third Heaven realm, while constantly extending a thread of perception to monitor the restaurant and surrounding alleys.

Long Tutu, accompanied by Cheng Lishi, bathed and tidied up, changing into a set of old clothes found by Cheng Lishi—plain fabric, but clean and well-fitting.

The second day passed without incident.

Chen Mu even, under Cheng Yong's accompaniment, quietly wandered a few nearby alleys, sensing Dao City's wartime atmosphere and overhearing many discussions about Mo Sect disturbances across the land and the earth-shattering battle at Moonwatch Valley.

Night deepened; Dao City imposed a curfew. The streets fell silent except for the footsteps of patrolling city guards.

Huaihua Alley sank into slumber early.

Just as midnight approached, in utter stillness—

"Bang!!!"

A muffled yet thunderous crash shattered the silence inside and outside the restaurant.

The two wooden doors, never sturdy to begin with, were violently smashed open from outside—the sound of the bolt snapping clearly audible.

Immediately, four figures—three men and one woman—drenched in blood, their breaths ragged, faces filled with panic and terror, staggered inside.

They moved swiftly, turning to try to shut and brace the broken door, but the hinges were ruined; they could only barely prop it half-closed.

The commotion jolted everyone inside the restaurant.

Cheng Yong burst out from the back courtyard first, gripping a heavy-bladed kitchen knife, his face twisted with shock and fury.

When he saw the four unknown, wounded intruders—especially upon catching the heavy stench of blood on them—his expression darkened.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen!"

Cheng Yong forced down his anger, stepped forward, and bowed, "Our shop is closed, no business today. Please leave quickly—don't bring trouble upon us!"

He tried to plead with the most humble tone, while secretly staying alert.

One of the intruders, the oldest, around fifty, his left arm hanging limp, face pale, replied with an apologetic expression, gasping, "S-sorry, Shopkeeper. We… we're truly out of options, hunted here by enemies. No ill intent—we only beg to hide here for the night, and leave at dawn! This… this is silver to compensate for your door…"

Saying this, he trembled as he pulled a ten-tael silver ingot from his chest with his good hand, reaching to hand it over.

But beside him, a young man, twenty-seven or twenty-eight, face twisted with malice, a deep gash across his chest, suddenly swatted the silver away—it rolled with a "gulugulu" sound into the corner.

He clutched his wound with one hand, drew his bloodstained longsword with the other with a "clang," the trembling blade still gleaming coldly as he pointed it straight at Cheng Yong and growled, "Enough talk. If you don't want to die, find us somewhere to hide! Say another word—do you think I won't kill you first?!"

Cheng Yong's face froze; his grip tightened on the knife, veins bulging on his temple.

Though he was a lifelong retainer of the Long family with some martial skill, his cultivation was only Post-Heaven Fourth Level—facing these four wounded but clearly seasoned martial artists, whose qi suggested at least Post-Heaven Eighth or Ninth Level, the pressure was immense.

"Who wants to die?"

At that moment, a clear but icy child's voice rang out from the staircase.

All turned to see Long Tutu standing on the stairs, her small face taut, dark eyes coldly fixed on the sword-wielding young man below.

Chen Mu stood half a step behind her, silent and motionless, his calm gaze sweeping over the four intruders—lingering a moment on the old man, the young man, and the silent middle-aged man with flickering eyes—finally settling on the young woman who kept her head lowered, her body trembling slightly, clearly badly wounded.

"Gentlemen."

Chen Mu spoke, his voice low but clear to every ear.

"Leave now, while you still can."