Chapter 47: Who Crawled Under the Crotch?

Seeing Jiang Mingyu unmoved, He Muchen’s retainers grew even more arrogant; a burly man in a stained robe stepped forward, sneering with his nostrils flared: “Hey! Are you deaf? The young master told you to choose—why are you still standing there?”

Another retainer, dressed in tattered leather armor, chimed in: “Is this girl your mistress? We’re done with her—take her back, but crawl humbly under the young master’s crotch!”

“…”

He Muchen assumed Jiang Mingyu, still silent, was utterly terrified; his expression grew even more brazen.

He jabbed a carrot-thick finger at Jiang Mingyu: “You dog, now you know you’re scared? Dare you talk back to me?”

“Damn it, I’ll ask you one more time—do you crawl under the crotch, or do you leave a leg behind?”

“For some little slut, you dare oppose me? Now you’re cowering—where were you when you needed to act?”

“I’m waiting to enter the bridal chamber—I don’t have time to waste here. Get on with it.”

With that, he spread his short legs into a “n” shape.

Meeting He Muchen’s glare, Jiang Mingyu’s eyes turned sharp as blades: “Finished?”

“I’ll say it again—let the girl go, or you’ll invite trouble you can’t handle.”

Seeing Jiang Mingyu still refused to yield, He Muchen’s eyes blazed with fury: “You come crawling here begging for death! Since words won’t work, don’t blame me for being merciless! What are you all standing around for? Break him! Let this dog know the power of my young master!” His retainers immediately surged forward like ravenous wolves and tigers, letting out terrifying roars as they lunged at Jiang Mingyu...

Just as Wu Xiao was frantic, and Jiang Mingyu was about to reveal his identity, a piercing scream rang out—and a burly man collapsed.

A long sword pierced the snow with a “whoosh”—Tu Kexiluo’s figure appeared instantly.

Seeing Tu Kexiluo’s sudden appearance, He Muchen, who had just been about to cripple Jiang Mingyu, was jolted in shock.

His voice was colder than Jiang Mingyu’s had been: “You rabble—how dare you lay hands on my young master?”

“Kneel and beg his pardon immediately, or it’ll be your miserable lives that pay.”

Tu Kexiluo had intended to reveal Jiang Mingyu’s identity, but Jiang Mingyu silenced him with a single glance—he wanted to see what other tricks this pig-brain could pull.

He Muchen’s face turned ghastly; after being cursed out by Tu Kexiluo, his already fat pig-face flushed crimson.

The black mole on his face, along with the surrounding black hairs, trembled as he cursed: “Damn it, why is everyone today meddling in my business?”

He didn’t care who Tu Kexiluo was—he barked: “Why are you still standing there? Break these two! What are you waiting for?”

The retainers raised their thick fists; He Muchen’s narrow, slanted eyes glinted with malice: “Hit hard—kill them!”

Just as the fists were about to strike, Tu Kexiluo blurred—like a freezing wind sweeping past—and in an instant, several retainers lay sprawled across the ground, blood oozing from their mouths.

He Muchen froze, staring at Tu Kexiluo as if he’d seen a ghost, his legs trembling: “Y-you… who are you?”

Before he could finish, Tu Kexiluo strode forward and slapped He Muchen’s face with a heavy, solid palm, knocking him down: “You fat pig—what else do you want?!”

The slap burned He Muchen’s cheek; he choked back pain, coughed, and accidentally spat out a back molar. As the eldest son of the He family, he’d never endured such humiliation: “I—”

Tu Kexiluo struck him another merciless slap, so forceful He Muchen staggered two steps; he roared: “What ‘I’? Kneel and apologize to my young master!”

He Muchen’s cheeks were swollen into pig’s flesh, two large teeth missing from his mouth, pain making stars dance before his eyes.

Feeling the whole world was spinning with stars, he was utterly dazed—and reluctantly reached for his final trump card.

The fat man spat another mouthful of blood, his eyes blazing: “You dare hit me? My father is He Daichuan.”

“I’ll go tell my father—he’s good friends with the Imperial Inspector! You’ll all be torn to pieces!”

Hearing the name He Daichuan, Tu Kexiluo glanced meaningfully at Jiang Mingyu, then kicked out—landing a solid blow to He Muchen’s fat belly.

He followed with a brutal beating, kicking and cursing as he went: “He Daichuan, huh? Friend of the Imperial Inspector, huh? I won’t kill you if I lose!”

Tu Kexiluo kicked He Muchen’s belly, then his back—each kick accompanied by a shout: “He Daichuan, huh?” “Friend of the Imperial Inspector, huh?”

Soon, He Muchen’s body was covered in dark, bloody boot prints—until Jiang Mingyu waved his hand to stop.

Jiang Mingyu smiled at the battered, fallen He Muchen: “How’s that, Young Master He? Enjoy it? Still want me to crawl under your crotch?”

The fat man lay on the ground, gasping for breath, then snarled through gritted teeth: “You hit me—you’re finished.”

“Give me your name! If my father doesn’t wipe out your whole family, I’ll take your surname!”

Jiang Mingyu shook his head: “No need to share your surname—I’d be ashamed. Go fetch He Daichuan—see how he plans to wipe out my family!”

He kicked aside the pretending-unconscious retainer: “Get up! Carry your young master away—tell He Daichuan I’ll wait half an hour. No exceptions!” The grimacing fat man was hauled away by many hands, leaving behind the woman who had nearly lost her virtue, dazed and confused.

Jiang Mingyu smiled at the bewildered woman: “Miss, are you alright?”

Meanwhile, outside the dilapidated county magistrate’s office, the old gong for justice was pounded loudly. A withered corpse lay on the ground, drawing a crowd.

Seeing the emaciated, mummy-like corpse, the onlookers erupted into chaos.

“What’s going on? Something happened?”

“Blind? Isn’t it obvious—someone’s dead!”

“Isn’t that the man from Old Xu’s house on the east side? What a spectacle!”

“…”

The crowd buzzed with chatter; Li Goudan, left in charge of the magistrate’s office, panicked like an ant on a hot pan, at a loss.

Jiang Mingyu was gone; since he was supposed to handle this, Li Goudan had no choice but to step forward.

He feigned inspection of the corpse, cautiously asking: “Who is this? Why are you beating the gong to file a complaint?”

The ragged woman kept wailing, ignoring his question: “Call the Imperial Inspector out!”

Li Goudan had no idea where Jiang Mingyu was—he pressed on: “The Imperial Inspector isn’t here. Woman, who are you accusing?”

Hearing he wasn’t there, the grieving woman revealed a cold smile: “I’m accusing Jiang Mingyu—the murderer.”