All Heavenly destiny reduced to ashes
Chapter 166 - 26 The Martial Artist Must Not Be Insulted!

Chapter 166: Chapter 26 The Martial Artist Must Not Be Insulted!

The constable’s attitude was so malicious that, in addition to genuine regional discrimination, there seemed to be a hint of resentment toward the wealthy.

Of course, their actions were clearly instructed by higher-ups deliberately making things difficult for An Jing.

——The Ming City government has indeed been infiltrated.

An Jing squinted his eyes, staring at the two officers in front of him. Only after the sudden chill that rose forced them to shut their mouths did he raise his hand, and with the utmost standard penmanship and format, he finished writing this ’Temporary Residence Registration Certificate’ and walked away.

"Wait! There are other things..."

By the time An Jing had disappeared around the corner, the two officers snapped out of it and then became greatly annoyed: "How did we let him get away!"

"Why didn’t you say anything, you fool!"

The shorter constable, the leader of the pair, was quite infuriated to see An Jing gone. He threw the registration certificate on the ground and roared, "Didn’t Constable Chen say, no matter what it takes, just find fault with him, keep that kid from even leaving his inn this morning?"

"I... I don’t know either."

The taller constable was still a bit frightened. He looked toward the corner where An Jing had disappeared and murmured, "Just now, I thought I saw a sword thrusting straight at my brow... This kid is not simple!"

"That’s exactly why we need to keep an eye on him! If it was just some ordinary prodigal, why would we bother?"

The shorter officer said hatefully, "Never mind, he’ll have to return to the inn eventually. We’ll talk about this tomorrow!"

The two officers left, and from the corner, An Jing stepped out from the shadows, deep in thought.

"I’ve been thoroughly marked."

In fact, not just by these people.

If An Jing lingered on a street for a while longer, a few obviously ill-intentioned individuals would follow on both sides. They thought they were well-hidden, but An Jing was very aware of them.

They waited for An Jing to go to some more secluded places, then attacked directly, but An Jing had plenty of patience. He led them around in circles, then vanished without a trace.

Even after shaking off one group of people, soon another group would crowd around him.

This persistent situation caused An Jing to be especially puzzled: "All I did was spend a bit more money and sold a set of talisman, is it really necessary to mobilize so many people for that?"

"Also, who exactly is that Constable Chen? Isn’t he afraid that I’ll sneak into his house at midnight and slaughter him?"

An Jing was confused about this—such a brash constable in Northern Border of Hanhai, if one dared to threaten a martial artist without sufficient skill, the next day they might find that the head of their own horse or dog had been chopped off and placed beside their pillow!

If they continued to be stubborn, it would be their own head hanging at the door!

The dignity of a martial artist was inviolable! That was the simple custom of the Northern Border.

As for kidnapping, An Jing was not ignorant about the situation; he knew that even abducting the children of wealthy families would not yield much ransom.

Above a certain amount, the same money would rather be spent by large families on hiring martial masters or grandmasters for rescue or revenge, rather than paying ransom.

The identity he was playing, regardless of the money spent, if the Fate Pattern had not awakened, according to the market two or three years ago, the price should be at most 150 taels.

Even if the price had increased in the last two or three years, it would not exceed 200 taels.

In short, before it was determined whether he had a Fate Pattern, it was not worth dispatching a dozen or twenty people to shadow him all day!

"Could it be that I really took the blame for someone else?"

With this in mind, An Jing arrived next to Huai’s Teahouse, ready to assess the situation.

He realized that Huai’s Teahouse, which was typically calm, was in a worse state than his own.

The originally clean and tidy shop had been smeared with a layer of muddy, stinking blood paint. A gang of hoodlums was gathered at the entrance, cursing and yelling. The tea-making utensils that were used to brew tea were overturned and shattered, scattered all over the ground.

The waitress who brewed the tea yesterday stood in front of the door, trying to stop the ruffians from breaking into the shop, but how could she have the strength to stop these thugs? She was quickly slapped, pushed to the ground, and seemed about to be trampled upon.

However, the woman raised her hand and waited for several moments, but no trampling came.

She looked up in confusion, only to find that a shadow had easily knocked down seven or eight hoodlums just by passing by, as if mowing grass.

Just as the woman looked up, he was holding two ruffians by the napes of their necks, bumping their foreheads together.

Bang!

A loud sound, a bad omen.

In just a few breaths, seven or eight thugs all had head wounds and were bleeding profusely, fallen unconscious, tossed casually to the side of the road by that shadowy figure.

And those remaining hooligans, too, let out terrified screams as they scattered in all directions and fled.

"It’s the customer who bought the tea yesterday..."

Jing Xuan’s appearance was quite handsome, naturally leaving a deep impression on the waitress, but An Jing did not engage further in conversation. Instead, he followed behind the fleeing gangsters at a leisurely pace, and soon disappeared from sight.

"Ping, are you all right?"

From the back room of the teahouse, an elderly voice called out as Granny Huai walked briskly with a curiously shaped bamboo tube in her hand.

She had been searching for this self-defense item, but life had been too peaceful lately; it was stashed too well, and all she could do was buy Ping some time.

The bamboo tube was light, but Granny Huai handled it with extreme care, as though it contained something immensely dangerous.

Indeed, it was just so, for if An Jing were to see this bamboo tube, his pupils would surely constrict—it was identical to the Medicine Container carried by the Vice Envoy of Medicine of Hanging Fate Manor!

"I’m fine, Granny."

The girl called Ping forced a smile, lifting her head; the red mark on her face was already turning purple from the rough handling of those thugs, eliciting Granny Huai’s sympathetic touch, as she pulled out an ointment from her bosom to apply: "It’s my fault for being too slow... What happened to those men?"

"Driven off by the handsome gentleman from yesterday."

Ping shook her head slightly; she could feel a faint warmth spreading with Granny Huai’s ointment, and the swelling on her face quickly subsided.

Though the effect was miraculous, she was accustomed to it—from the neighborhood children getting bumps and bruises, Granny Huai always used her special ointment to heal them, and Ping was no exception.

To Granny Huai’s self-blame, she thought nothing of it: "How can you say that, Granny? You’ve always been helping our family, and my father owed you much in the past."

"If he weren’t working away from home, and knew you were in trouble, he’d surely come to help you!"

"It was just that these people came so suddenly. Otherwise, if you’d called out, who in the neighborhood wouldn’t come to your aid?"

True to her words, a group of young adults wielding hoes and shovels were quickly approaching the old street with a determined air, clearly neighbors who had seen the commotion and come to help.

"Granny, what’s going on?"

"Is it those guys from a few days ago who want to buy your shop causing trouble again?"

"These damn little rascals, daring to start trouble in our territory? Do they really think they’re the only ones in gangs? They’ve crossed the line now!"

"Son of a bitch, I don’t know who the righteous one was who stepped in but spared their arms. They got off too easy!"

The crowd tied up the thugs, hitting and kicking them, while some went to inform the authorities. Seeing everyone’s spirited response, Granny Huai couldn’t help but mutter, "Ah, it really is causing trouble for everyone..."

The leading young man flashed a grin: "Nonsense, it’s what should be done! That winter when my family ran out of firewood, if it weren’t for you, Granny, my little sister might have frozen to death!"

Granny Huai was known for her kindness, offering a bowl of water to the thirsty and a bowl of rice to those in trouble. Over the years, she had built a significant reputation in the eastern part of the city.

Logically speaking, no one should have targeted this elderly lady who spent her life helping others.

After some effort, Granny Huai calmed down the indignant crowd, persuaded Ping to go home, and then shut the door to retire to her room.

The white-haired old lady seemed tired now, as she let out a long sigh and sat back down in the shadows.

"Shu has not returned for so long; the city is in such chaos, he must have encountered some trouble..."

She whispered to herself, worrying: "I thought they would wait at least a couple of days; I didn’t expect them to act the day after. Is this Earth Vein’s yin point really that important?"

"If it weren’t for the fact that I cannot leave this place..."

The Shu mentioned by Granny Huai, to any informed person, was unmistakably the guardian martial artist of Ming City, ’Wei Yang Quan Shuzheng’!

From her affectionate tone, it was clear they had known each other for many years!