Chapter 15: The Villain

Not long after, a carriage bearing a wooden plaque inscribed with “Lin” departed from the Lin Family Clinic’s main gate, carrying one man and one woman.

At the end of Ning’an Street, above a three-story tavern.

A man clad in coarse hemp robes and wearing a wide-brimmed hat stood by the window of a private room, gazing through the gap at the carriage approaching along the street; beside him rested a five-foot saber, his eyes tinged with disdain:

“This young whelp’s head is worth three hundred taels?”

Beside a table behind him sat a man wrapped in a cloak, holding a teacup:

It’s your own worth that’s three hundred taels, not his. I hired you for extra assurance—if you mess this up, you know the rules.

The blade-for-hire liked the sound of that, yet still asked:

“What’s this boy’s background?”

“His name is Xie Jinhuan, born in Changping Year Three, originally from Wanan County, Luojing. His father, Xie Wen, once served as Legal Clerk of Wanan County. Three years ago, he failed in his duties and was reassigned to Ruizhou Nanning. He’s just returned alone to the Central Plains.”

“What’s his cultivation level? Why kill him?”

The cloaked figure fell silent for a moment, then explained in detail:

“This boy recently trained at the Wind Spirit Valley, a minor sect—his martial skill is decent. Yesterday, he reported my warehouse to the government office, costing me thousands in goods. He must pay.”

The blade-for-hire’s gaze sharpened with doubt:

“The heat’s on right now—everywhere they’re hunting demons and bandits. Yesterday, the East Warehouse District made a huge commotion. You’re not avoiding the storm—you’re deliberately hiring killers to retaliate? That’s not rational.”

The cloaked figure withdrew a silver note from his sleeve and placed it on the table:

“In the martial world, asking too many questions won’t serve you. Will you take the job?”

The blade-for-hire stared at the silver note, then finally nodded:

“Accepted. Such an easy job? Not taking it would be fighting against silver.”

The cloaked figure withdrew another item from his sleeve—a black vial—and placed it on the table:

“The heat is indeed intense. First try poisoning him. If that fails, then strike.”

The blade-for-hire picked up the black vial, inspected it, and frowned:

“This looks like a Sanhe Pavilion bottle. I don’t recall Sanhe Pavilion selling poison.”

“I just grabbed any bottle to hold the medicine. Do it quickly.”

After speaking, the cloaked figure rose and left the room.

The blade-for-hire held the small black vial, lost in thought, but eventually tucked it into his robe…

……

——

Cold rain fell endlessly, fog locking every street; the uneven buildings along the roadside were shrouded in mist and rain, turning the entire city a dark, somber black-blue.

The carriage rolled along Dongcheng Street; Jia Zheng, the driver and guard, sat outside the carriage under a wide-brimmed hat. Finding the journey dull, he hummed a mournful tune:

“Heaven’s bitter~ Earth’s bitter~ Ten thousand li from south to north, yet all end in heroes’ graves~

“Buddha’s enough~ Dao’s enough~ Eighty years east and west, still just bones in a tomb~…”

The carriage was drawn by two horses, spacious inside, with a small table beside the left window.

Lin Wanyi, wearing gold-threaded spectacles, sat upright on the inner side, gently stroking Meiqiu’s fluffy head, her peripheral vision occasionally glancing at the white-robed young master across the table.

Xie Jinhuan sat with his back to the window, holding the thirty-six-section Heaven’s Gang Mace, carefully wiping its surface with a silk handkerchief. His gaze appeared cold and distant, yet secretly held warmth; not only was his expression flawless, but even his posture, movements, and the subtlest details of his gaze were perfectly poised—so refined that one could not help but look again…

Lin Wanyi thought Xie Jinhuan’s bearing was too perfect—someone who began training posture at age three might not achieve this poise. After a moment of silence, she couldn’t help asking:

“Xie Jinhuan, are you thinking about something?”

Xie Jinhuan had too many thoughts—he only wanted to survive. Hearing the question, he snapped back:

“Nothing. Just distracted.”

Lin Wanyi nodded slightly. Since they’d just met, there was little to say, so she made small talk:

“Does this weapon hold special meaning for you?”

Xie Jinhuan’s Heaven’s Gang Mace, like Meiqiu, was bought at a flea market.

He’d paid two taels; the vendor had claimed it was an “ancient divine weapon,” but in truth, it was just a thick iron rod—sturdy, nothing else.

Still, when introducing it, he needed some story. He paused, then made one up:

“I first used spear and staff—‘one inch longer, one inch stronger.’ Then switched to sword and knife, relying on technique to defeat foes. Later, I stopped caring about weapons—flowers, leaves, even a single petal could wound. I forged this mace not as a weapon, but as a reminder to myself.”

“A reminder of what?”

“The mace has four blunt edges, no blade—it’s the ‘best weapon among weapons,’ embodying justice and harmony. Its purpose is punishment and deterrence, not to take life or maim limbs…”

“Oh…”

Lin Wanyi nodded slightly, raising her estimation of Xie Jinhuan.

As they chatted nonsense, the carriage reached the vicinity of the Academy, stopping before a golden-lacquered archway. The sudden downpour had also ceased.

Outside the archway’s side stood a dedicated parking area, filled with carriages and sedan chairs; inside was a vast marketplace, teeming with merchants—and even many foreigners with brown hair and blue eyes.

Lin Wanyi stepped out and walked ahead, pulling on her veil. But with her ample chest and wide hips, her figure drew too many sidelong glances from passersby.

Xie Jinhuan walked beside her, scanning roadside stalls. As they passed a shop, he noticed a crowd gathered at its entrance.

Inside the spacious shop, no goods were displayed—only a row of boxes.

Each box was painted red, sealed with brass locks, and bearing official “Wubei Yuan” seals of varying sizes.

A variety of soldiers and guards stood before the boxes, carefully inspecting them, whispering among themselves:

“These must be close-combat weapons…”

“Are the boxes fake?”

“Who in Danyang would dare forge Danyang Academy’s seals…”

……

Xie Jinhuan spotted the “blind boxes” and halted:

“This kind of martial world scam still works in Danyang?”

Lin Wanyi hadn’t been here in a long time. Seeing the shop’s sign—“Duobao Pavilion”—she frowned:

“Jia Zheng, what’s this shop?”

Jia Zheng, following behind, quickly replied:

“Just opened recently. The proprietor’s said to be a noble from Wencheng Street. Everything inside comes from the Academy’s Wubei Yuan—weapons, armor—all sold for thirty taels.”

The Danyang Academy’s Wubei Yuan primarily researched city defenses and irrigation systems, but also included a metallurgy discipline, teaching students to forge magic weapons and armor.

With research by students and masters, all sorts of tools were naturally produced. To recover costs, the Academy sold them externally.

But to preserve the Academy’s reputation, only top-tier items were released—nothing cheap.

Hearing the price was only thirty taels, Lin Wanyi grew curious:

“Are they real?”

“The goods are genuine, but you can’t inspect them before buying. Nine out of ten are losses. But a few days ago, someone got a soft armor—became rich overnight, earned a thousand taels of silver…”

Lin Wanyi’s interest sparked. She glanced briefly, then turned toward the shop:

“Go find out where to buy Longyang Flowers. I’ll join you later.”

“Got it.”

Jia Zheng hurried off into the depths of the market.

Xie Jinhuan was considering how to evade imperial pursuit and had no interest in this martial scam. But as he stepped into the shop, the ever-present Night Demoness appeared at his side, pointing at a box:

“That one.”

Xie Jinhuan paused, glancing left and right. Seeing no one noticed his personal ghost, he stepped closer:

“What’s inside?”

Ye Hongshang shrugged slightly: “The material’s unusual—won’t be a loss. If I just tell you, where’s the fun?”

Xie Jinhuan walked to the shelf, picked up a small wooden box the size of a head, felt its light weight, but couldn’t tell what was inside.

Lin Wanyi wanted to buy one to test her luck—but thirty taels was more than three months of Jia Zheng’s salary, a substantial sum. As she hesitated, she noticed Xie Jinhuan staring at the box and asked:

“Is there something good in this box?”

Xie Jinhuan trusted Ye Hongshang’s ability—she wouldn’t trick him out of silver. This box was likely the jackpot.

But he had only twenty-some taels total—couldn’t afford it!

Seeing Lin Wanyi’s strong curiosity, Xie Jinhuan hesitated, then reluctantly offered:

“Looks good. Buy it and try. If you win, we split it fifty-fifty. If you lose, it’s on me.”

Lin Wanyi’s eyes lit up. She quietly picked up the box, handed silver to the clerk, and stepped out with him:

“So light—is it soft armor inside?”

Xie Jinhuan didn’t know either, watching closely:

“Open it and see.”

Lin Wanyi carried the box outside, waited until they were out of sight, then held it in one hand, peeled off the seal. Since she’d spent thirty taels, she was still a little nervous.

Xie Jinhuan and Meiqiu leaned in to look. Inside the box lay an exquisitely embroidered sachet.

?

Lin Wanyi blinked, handed the box to Xie Jinhuan, opened the sachet—and found two pieces of black fabric inside.

The fabric, folded, was no larger than a palm, incredibly smooth to the touch; its luster alone revealed it was made of precious, costly material.

“Is this Ice Soul Silk?!” Lin Wanyi’s almond eyes brightened as she saw the fabric’s texture: “It really is soft armor! How did you know?”

Ice Soul Silk was a special thread forged by the Wubei Yuan using secret methods—famously called “one liang of silk, a hundred taels of gold.” Armor woven from it commanded astonishing prices.

Xie Jinhuan had agreed to a fifty-fifty split and was pleasantly surprised to see Ye Hongshang had picked the jackpot—but seeing the palm-sized sachet, he frowned slightly:

“Is this armor… too small?”

"Hm?"

Lin Wanyi patted her small pouch and examined it, feeling it was a bit too small, then pulled out one item to inspect.

As the folded black fabric unfolded, a very peculiar pair of 'trousers' appeared before the two.

The trousers were like soft, sheer gauze—semi-transparent, highly elastic, with intricate embroidery beneath the abdomen; their protective power was unknown, but if worn by a woman, they were hardly different from wearing nothing at all...

Bandit's Excitement Pants?

(End of Chapter)