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"Do you not know if the Young Master has ever met this person?" Mings asked with a smile.
At that moment, Guan Tianfan's already sallow complexion turned pale, and his body trembled slightly as he shook his head repeatedly. "I only gambled with him. We had a dispute over the stakes; there's no way I would kill him over that! You're talking nonsense, absolute nonsense..."
"Shut up!" Guan Ao slammed his palm heavily on the wooden table beside him, causing the teacups to rattle.
Guan Tianfan was so frightened that he nearly fell to the ground.
Guan Ao, filled with anger, said, "You unfilial son! I have told you countless times not to gamble anymore, yet you never listen! The reputation of Bu Dong Mountain Manor, built over hundreds of years, is about to be ruined by you, the prodigal!"
Guan Ao's normally ruddy face turned pale as he pressed his hand against his chest to steady himself. Meanwhile, Guan Tianfan trembled all over, unable to utter a single word.
Guan Ao asked again, "Do you still not know when the victim was killed?"
Mings replied, "Based on the appearance of livor mortis on the body, the deceased was likely murdered yesterday evening."
Suddenly, Guan Ao laughed. "Yesterday? If it was yesterday, then it has nothing to do with Tianfan. He was at the manor all day, with me. Everyone in the manor besides me can testify to that."
"That's right! I never left the manor yesterday," Guan Tianfan quickly added.
Mings was about to say more when suddenly two guards rushed into the hall. They threw themselves in front of Guan Ao and said urgently, "They're here, they're here, Master Zhuang!"
Guan Ao sprang to his feet, opening his robe wide. Mings caught a glimpse of the golden hilt of a knife at Guan Ao's chest.
Guan Ao slightly tilted his head and said in a deep voice, “Ming Captain, we will discuss this matter later. At this moment, there are some issues to handle at Bu Dong Mountain Manor. You should return for now.”
In an instant, the sounds of hurried footsteps filled the courtyard as dozens of people surged toward the entrance of Bu Dong Mountain Manor.
When the three Mings arrived at the manor, a red lacquered carriage was parked in front.
Guan Ao stood like a mountain before the crowd, coldly gazing at the fluttering red eagle-headed flag atop the carriage. He shouted, “Yan Ying, you finally couldn’t hold back any longer. Come out, and let’s fight to the death!”
No one answered; the surrounding air was eerily silent, as if suffocated. Faintly, a sound resembling a silk zither seemed to emanate from deep within Bu Dong Mountain Manor.
Mings unconsciously glanced back in the direction they had come from, where shadows of buildings loomed large, obscuring everything.
Guan Ao took a deep breath, stepped forward, and drew his sword. He gently lifted the curtain of the carriage door and stole a glance inside, only to be momentarily stunned.
Mings also looked toward the carriage, where two figures were seated upright.
One sat by the window, clad in a red cloak. He had a broad face with a prominent hooked nose and cheeks like heavy dates—this was Yan Ying, the renowned leader of Hong Eagle Gate in Northwest Martial Arts.
However, at this moment, the imposing presence of this martial arts giant had vanished; his face was ashen, and a distinct bloodstain marked his neck, with blood still flowing down incessantly.
Mings shook his head slightly and turned to look at the other person seated opposite Yan Ying. This man had a gaunt face with only one eye and sported a pair of drooping mustaches that evoked an instinctive aversion. He too bore a noticeable bloodstain on his neck.
Guan Ao stared for a long time before slowly stepping back a few paces, shaking his head as he murmured, “It’s impossible; how could this be? Yan Ying and Sun Miao are both dead… both dead?” His voice carried disbelief and deep anger.
Mings stepped onto the carriage and gently checked the two individuals' breaths, confirming that they were both dead. The blood was still warm, indicating that they had died within the last hour.
He noticed that Yan Ying had one hand resting on his waist, as if about to retrieve something. Following the direction of Yan Ying's hand, Mings pulled aside a dark belt at Yan Ying's waist and took out a red blade shaped like a bird's beak. This was none other than the Blood Eagle Blade, the weapon that had made Yan Ying famous in the martial world.
Mings couldn't help but ponder: what could have happened to make this renowned martial artist not even have the chance to draw his weapon?
Turning to look at the other person, Mings saw that he was unarmed and his clothes were tattered, contrasting sharply with Yan Ying's bright attire.
Mings also noticed that the man's hands were covered in calluses, and his palms were as sharp and hard as stone knives, indicating that he was a master of external martial arts. Looking into his eyes, Mings saw that, like Yan Ying, this man had died with one eye wide open, staring directly at the sky above.
A thought crossed Mings' mind, and he raised his gaze—there, in the corner of the carriage roof, hung a black wooden box that swayed slightly, resembling a black human head.
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