Book 15: Chapter 107
Virtually immediately Ming Feizhen gave his instructions, there were people climbing up the seven floors of Dongpo as rhythmically as rainfall. The synchrony indicated they were thoroughly trained, so Feng Jiutian instantly discerned they were a group that mobilised in response to the ruckus. They wouldn’t have been so conspicuous if they were looking to capture someone discreetly.
Frankly, it was a tough task to shoo them off when Ming Feizhen gave him practically no time to prepare. There was an injured individual lying on the table, flesh and blood scattered around, and a guy who shouldn’t have been revealed to the public stuffed in a sack underneath the table. In his own lap was a crow he had to keep alive. What sort of fib was he meant to tell when he was under heavy surveillance? Thankfully, he was the successor of Feng Clan, a man who had participated in many big events, gone face to face with fearsome people. Why not play it by ear?
Feng Jiutian sat down, crossed his legs, picked up a wine pot and knocked back three drinks – making one toast to the sun that hadn’t come out, the moon and one just for himself. He didn’t acknowledge the agents as he knew that their superior would eventually show up, and that’d be the person he’d have to truly deal with.
A cocky young man in his twenties arrived on the top floor moments after and started scanning the floor. “Young Master Feng.”
Although he had never met the cocky individual, Feng Jiutian wasn’t surprised he was recognised. “You all seem eager to brown nose me while I am drinking. Unfortunately, it is a little too late for that.”
“Hehe, not at all. Everyone knows that you are fond of making friends. There is nobody who is not proud about being your friend. If anything, I have been jealous. It is an honour to finally meet you. Let us share a drink.” Feng Jiutian immediately sensed piercing gazes on his back warning him that he was going to be in for it if he didn’t wise up, but he leisurely filled up a cup to pass over. “May I ask for your honourable name?”
“My surname is Qian. I would not dare claim my name is worthy of being honourable as yours is.”
That was enough for Feng Jiutian to identify the guy as Qian Daojin, one of the seventeen hidden dragons. While the volatile warrior’s combat skills were unknown, he was respected for his qinggong.
The agents all had different auras. Typically, they wouldn’t carry visible weapons and opted for hidden ones since visible weapons would’ve been a hindrance during their work operations. The fact that they carried their own specialised weapons gave away what their aura was – hostility. From what Feng Jiutian knew, the agents were mainly obedient; he had never seen agents so bloodthirsty that they could’ve been mistaken for Qilin Guards.