"Who would dare to attack My Lord?" A Ming asked.
"How should I know? I'm not a god. It could be anyone. We'll have to see how the situation develops. No, I can't, my energy is severely overdrawn. Later, people from the Spy Bureau might come to check on the situation. Siniang, you go deal with them. I estimate, I estimate it won't be many days before the storm from this incident arrives."
"I understand. You rest. I've also patched myself up."
Blind Bei lowered his head, looking at the stitched wound on his chest, and said with some dissatisfaction, "Didn't I tell you to use cosmetic sutures..."
"It's such a large, deep gash; no other thread would hold it. Don't worry, once the wound heals and scars over, it'll look quite imposing."
"San'er..."
Xue Three lay there, not making a sound.
"San'er..."
"Wha'cha want?"
Xue Three didn't want to talk. It wasn't just a draft through his teeth; it was like a wind tunnel.
