The autumn rain fell with a desolate whisper, and half of the patrons in the teahouse had already scattered.
It was mainly the people from the merchant caravan; they had fled to a safe distance the moment the Cangwu Sword Sect disciples clashed with Qi Wuwang's men.
Though they hadn't left entirely, they were still watching from afar.
Fang Shuwen lifted his cup, took a sip of tea, and glanced at the waiter behind the counter. Turning his gaze back, he finally chuckled.
"So, after all that, we're involved in this too?"
"You two, who exactly are you? Why are so many people trying to cause trouble for you?"
This last question was directed at the master and servant who were under constant protection.
The two remained silent…
It had been like this the entire journey.
They never said much to the people from the Lu'an Escort Agency, and they remained tight-lipped about their connection to Flying Snow City.
