Chapter 30

Chapter 30: City Image

In the courtyard, two men and a woman knelt with their hands tied behind their backs.

All three shivered at Shen Tang’s feet, shaking like leaves.

“Who just said they were Old Heaven?”

Shen Tang hooked her stick under one man’s chin and tipped his face up. Smiling, she asked, “Was it you?”

The man shook his head so hard it looked like it might snap off. He scooted backward as he shook, trying to dodge the stick, terrified she’d suddenly lash out anyway.

None of them understood how things had spiraled into this. After the beating, the three of them were too rattled to think straight.

Shen Tang lifted the second man’s chin with the stick.

“Then you?”

The one she singled out was Lai Tou—the one who’d lured Shen Tang here.

“N-not me… not me—” His voice cracked into a sob. He spoke through a gap-toothed wheeze, so scared his eyes were already glassy with tears.

It wasn’t surprising.

When Shen Tang had kicked off the wall and slammed into him, he hadn’t even registered the pain before four or five teeth popped loose. The rest wobbled on the verge of falling out. Blood welled from his gums and smeared half his face.

What followed felt like a dream: three “big shots” pinned down by a snot-nosed brat.

They hadn’t been able to fight back at all.

That was how this scene came to be.

“So it isn’t you either?”

Shen Tang’s eyes curved with amusement as she tilted the third person’s chin up—the only woman of the three. “Then is it you?”

The woman didn’t hesitate. She sold out Lai Tou on the spot, shrieking, “Not me! I didn’t say it—I swear I didn’t! It was Lai Tou!”

Shen Tang’s gaze slid to Lai Tou. Her lids lowered, calm as winter.

“Lying when death’s at your door? That’s another charge.”

The moment the word “death” landed, Lai Tou broke. Tears and snot poured down his face. He slammed his forehead into the ground and begged for mercy.

He got three kowtows in before Shen Tang stopped him with the clothes-drying pole. Her voice stayed flat. “Since you still look like you’ve got a little remorse in you, I’ll give you a chance to earn merit and redeem yourselves.

Talk—besides me, where did all the innocent girls you tricked with this method end up?”

She’d checked the yard. There weren’t any other victims.

If she’d known that earlier, why had she bothered working so hard?

“T-they… they were all sold…” Lai Tou’s tongue betrayed him. The words tangled together.

“Sold?

Where?

How many in total?

How much money did you make?

Spit it all out. Every last detail.”

Shen Tang dropped onto a small stool. One knee came up, and she braced the pole on it as she leaned forward.

Her rapid questions drove the three of them to the edge of tears.

How were they supposed to answer?

If they didn’t, they’d die. If they did, they’d die faster.

The two men looked utterly lost, terrified a wrong word would earn them a cracked skull. The woman, though, seemed to latch onto a story. She decided Shen Tang must have read too many street tales—dreaming of being some wandering hero with a sword, rushing out to “uphold justice” before she’d even grown up.

And hotheaded fools like that could be handled.

Her eyes turned wet. She pleaded, “Young lady, you’ve misunderstood us. We only messed up two, three times—really. We didn’t do anything else wicked.”

Shen Tang snorted. “Two or three times? And I just happen to run into you on the first? With luck like that, why don’t you go buy a lottery ticket?”

The woman clung to the excuse like a lifeline. “We did sell a lot of… goods. But we did it to save people.”

She kept glancing at Shen Tang’s face from the corner of her eye. When Shen Tang didn’t lash out, she pushed on, voice sharper with desperation. “Everything we sold was bought properly. The parents took the money.

In times like these, people only cost a few coins. We were blinded, that’s all. We won’t trick anyone again!”

Shen Tang’s laugh came out cold. “Save people?”

The woman heard that laugh and mistook it for a crack in the wall. Hope surged. “These past years of war, nobody’s had it easy.

Families with too many mouths—how can they feed them?

If we didn’t buy and sell, those kids would starve to death, or get traded away to be eaten.

If they’re sold, at least they have somewhere to go. At least they get a bowl of food.”

Shen Tang almost smiled from sheer anger. She pressed the pole against their throats and spoke like she was laying down a verdict.

“Enough. Confess.

Or I’ll shove this pole straight through. You’ve felt my strength. I can skewer you from front to back—and string all three of you on one stick.”

She added a sliver of force. A dark bruise bloomed at the woman’s throat. The woman howled.

“I’ll talk! I’ll talk!”

“Warrior—spare me!”

Only then did Shen Tang look mildly satisfied.

Not far away, the butcher kept craning his neck toward the sun. The more he checked the light, the more anxious he got. He rubbed his hands, sighing through his teeth.

“Old fellow, are you sure your guess is any good?”

The guest only chuckled, lifting the lotus-leaf parcel he’d packed and nodding toward the end of the street. “This round, I win.”

The butcher leaned out and squinted until his eyes nearly cramped. He’d been slaughtering livestock before dawn for years; his eyesight had long since dulled. Anything a little far away was a blur. No matter how hard he squinted, he couldn’t make it out.

All he caught was the crowd stirring in that direction.

Then Shen Tang drew closer, and the butcher finally saw.

That handsome little lady—no, that young lord—sat on a pretty mule, chewing something as she rode back at an easy pace.

A rope trailed from her hand. On it were two men and a woman—faces swollen, noses bloodied, limping like their legs didn’t belong to them anymore.

And for anyone who did business around here, even if these three Thousand-Knives were burned to ash, they’d still recognize them.

Shen Tang returned to the wine shop and sat back down on her stool, waiting. With a flick of her fingers—three quick snaps—three green-plum pits she’d chewed clean shot out.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

All three dropped to their knees.

The sound made the onlookers’ scalps prickle. More than a few people instinctively rubbed their own knees.

Shen Tang pointed at them, voice sharp with killing intent. “All of you. Stay on your knees.”

The three swallowed their cries and didn’t dare move.

The guest’s eyes flickered, a trace of surprise passing through.

He’d expected Shen Tang to kill the thugs who’d meant her harm.

So what was this?

“Little young lord,” he asked, stepping closer once the crowd began to drift away, “why didn’t you just kill them?”

Shen Tang was still chewing green plums, half-bored, half-annoyed that Qi Shan hadn’t shown up yet. She turned at the voice and pointed at herself.

“…You’re calling me ‘little young lord’?”

“What’s wrong with that?” The guest’s gaze paused for a heartbeat at the seal at her waist—the Literary Heart Signature Seal—then slid away.

Shen Tang forced a laugh. “No, no. Nothing wrong. Brother, you’ve got a sharp eye.”

Everything about him was fine—except his eyes were as useless as Qi Shan’s.

As for why she hadn’t killed them… Shen Tang kept her expression straight, but her mind ran in circles.

Killing was illegal. And she was a law-abiding citizen. A harmless artist. How could she do something that bloody? No matter how much they deserved it, they should be handed to the Xiao City yamen—

The real reason was simpler: that courtyard was too remote. If she killed them out there, the bodies would rot in the open. No one would dispose of them. Flies, maggots, stench… it would wreck Xiao City’s “public image.”

Also, an artist casually murdering people didn’t look great.

So she was trying to cultivate patience. Obey the law. Be civilized.

The guest sounded dry. “If you hand them to the yamen, they’ll be free again within days.”

Shen Tang froze mid-bite. After a beat, she asked carefully, “Then… should I drag them outside the city and kill them later?”