Book 8: Chapter 62: Tell Me a Story
With the executions clearly over, the crowd started to disperse, although Sen could hear their hushed, fearful whispering. At least that part seemed to be going to plan. Lo Meifeng cast another disdainful look at Chan Dishi before she headed for the gate, obviously happy to have an excuse to leave. Grandmother Lu offered the man a shallow bow before she also went back to the manor. Chan Dishi wore that look of vague confusion again as he watched them leave, seemingly still uncertain when or where he might have encountered Lo Meifeng before. It was only then that Sen really became aware of Yeung Fen again. He’d dragged her along with him without even thinking about it. Her eyes were locked on the place where the prisoners used to be. Oh, right, I should finish cleaning that up, thought Sen. He didn’t know for sure that breathing the ashes of human remains was bad for people, but it stood to reason. He used wind qi to gather the ashes up, opened a hole in the stone of the street, and sank the ashes deep underground.
“Well, you certainly know how to send a message,” said Chan Dishi, grinning at Sen.
“I have my moments,” said Sen.
“So, now that you’ve made every noble, criminal, and most of the cultivators in the city soil themselves, what’s next?”
Sen only hesitated for a moment. It wasn’t like it was going to be any kind of secret when he left, so there wasn’t much point in being cagey about it. And, almost despite himself, he did like Chan Dishi. He didn’t understand the man, or his seemingly unshakeable good cheer, but Sen liked him all the same.
“I’m just about done here,” said Sen. “After I wrap up a few last tasks, I go back north. Let things here settle down.”
“North, eh? Not much up that way.”
“I have a little academy I started.”
“Oh, that’s right, you started a sect up there.”