Chapter 66: Encircling the Adventurer Group

Countless scenes of heroes making their grand entrance flashed through Logan's mind. He imagined himself leaping up from the ground, emerging in a blaze of glory, felling the short constable with a single slash of his sword. Li Buer would draw his blade to fight, only for Logan to land a resounding slap across his face, sending him sprawling, then unleash a torrent of blows upon his belly, as if golden serpents danced wildly, battering him until Li Buer thoroughly understood the miserable fate that awaited those who preyed on the people and perverted justice for personal gain!

He would rescue Erhu, Uncle De, and the others; everyone would kneel in submission, shouting, “Chairman Logan, wise and valiant!” It was almost unbearably exhilarating! The only pity was that it was all but a figment of Logan’s imagination. In reality, when Li Buer and the short Huang left, Logan hadn’t even dared to stand up, let alone fight back.

After everyone had departed, Logan’s mind swam in dizziness as he surfaced above the floor, his body drained of strength. He had narrowly escaped by melding with the floor itself—surely a lifesaving effect of the Superpower Liquor. Otherwise, he too would have ended up dragged away by the squad of constables.

As his comrades were taken, a fierce sense of guilt swept over Logan—his own cowardice and impotence had rendered him unable to save them. Yet in the next instant, he comforted himself: if he’d charged in alone, he’d only have thrown his life away and handed the enemy an easy victory. As the saying goes, “As long as the green hills remain, there’ll always be firewood to burn!” He had to protect the last spark of the Bamboo Grove Guild, to see it blaze and save the common people.

Thus, with a bit of self-consolation, the guilt lifted. Remembering the fate of the people, Logan checked his hand for the Winter Flower, only to find it gone. Panic-stricken, he scoured the room.

He searched every wardrobe, bookshelf, and bed, then suddenly recalled that the first place he had reappeared was beneath the bed. Crawling down to look, he found nothing.

Then, as if inspired by an inexplicable flash of intuition, he tiptoed downstairs. Since he had merged with the floor, perhaps the flower had appeared below. With this hope, he found the spot directly beneath his bed, and sure enough! The Winter Flower was pressed atop a book.

Finally recovering the crucial Winter Flower, he felt a great weight lifted. Now the pressing issue was to rescue Erhu and the others, and find a way to use the Winter Flower to full effect.

But then Logan remembered his satchel was missing, the one that held the Superpower Liquor. No matter how thoroughly he searched the room and every corner of the house, it was nowhere to be found.

The constables had already left, but caution was still paramount—who knew when someone might pop up and clap him in irons?

Logan crept slowly toward the entrance hall. As he opened the door, a bitter wind swept in. Outside, it was no longer deep night; the midday sun hung high in the sky, yet offered no warmth—there was not a trace of heat. Zhang Jifeng was long gone, the entire Sima residence empty and unguarded, a truly abandoned house.

Hurrying out, he found the morning market had long passed, though some street vendors lingered, reluctant to leave, hoping for a little more business.

Just then, a shop attendant came striding up and collided headlong with Logan. Looking closer, Logan recognized the young man who had previously recommended the inn.

“What’s going on? Can’t you watch where you’re going!” the attendant grumbled, rubbing his head in irritation. “Every time I come here, someone runs into me—must be something in the air!”

“Wait, don’t be upset—do you remember me?” Logan asked.

The attendant pursed his lips, looking stubborn. “Calling me ‘attendant’ at every turn—do you even know my name? I told you, didn’t I!”

The inn was not far from the Sima residence; best to keep things simple. Although the youth before him was blunt-tongued, he could still be of use. Logan reined in his annoyance.

“Anping County! Just a few miles—who doesn’t know my reputation! You think you can call me ‘attendant’? You run into me and can’t even apologize?”

Logan fished out some coins and handed them over. The attendant’s eyes lit up at the sight of money—he weighed it in his palm, instantly transforming his scowl into a beaming smile, as if he were an actor changing masks.

“Ah! What can I do for you, sir?” he asked, rubbing his hands together and bowing obsequiously, as if waiting for a treat.

“No instructions, just apologies for the trouble. May I ask your name?”

“My name is Zhang Xing—Zhang as in Zhang Fei, Xing as in Guan Xing, the son of Guan Yu. Easy to remember! Or you can just call me Attendant if you like!”

Such a transformation of demeanor was astonishing—some people truly worship wealth above all else. Not trustworthy, perhaps, but useful in a pinch.

Feigning ignorance, Logan said, “No, I’ll call you Zhang Xing. Tell me, the constables who just entered the Sima house—what was going on there?”

Zhang Xing glanced around—years of hustling had taught him the importance of discretion. He gestured for Logan to step aside.

Once they’d slipped into a narrow alleyway and Zhang Xing had checked to make sure no one was around, he spoke in a low voice.

“Those were just a bunch of thug constables. Heard a rumor the Sima residence had been robbed. Nobody believed it—who’d want to go near that place? It’s haunted, or worse!”

“Then what about the guard at the door? Why’s he gone too?”

Zhang Xing massaged his temples, deep in thought, searching his memory for any clue.

“Come to think of it, the guard was taken away. Huh? Why would constables arrest their own? I’ve heard of thieves shouting ‘stop thief’, but never officials arresting officials! The world’s gone mad!”

It must have been Zhang Jifeng who was betrayed. But who could have known their plan?

Wait—where had Liu Buwen gone? He was supposed to keep watch, but now he was nowhere to be found. If he hadn’t been the one to betray them, perhaps he too was in danger!

Through the bustling crowd, Logan hurried, his legs carrying him swiftly to the gates of the Liu residence.

The gates stood open, servants within weeping, the place a shambles, clearly the aftermath of a thorough search. Servants knelt, sobbing uncontrollably, and as Logan approached, one clutched at his sleeve.

“Master Logan, please, have mercy—save our master and young master!”

Logan was taken aback—the turn of events had caught him completely off guard. He stared at the sealed entrance, the broken willow branches, the shattered teacups scattered across the floor, the overturned chairs, ruined paintings—all signs of a calamity. Only a grave crime could have brought disaster to Lord Liu’s household.

“Tell me quickly—what happened here?” he asked, helping the kneeling servant to his feet.

“Oh, Master Logan—our master, he’s been arrested! They said he deceived the emperor and defied the throne!”

Deceiving the emperor? That was impossible. Lord Liu was a man of integrity, upright and law-abiding. He would never stoop to corruption, let alone treason.

Logan fell into deep thought, unable to untangle the sudden mess. Who could be behind this? Not only had the members of the Bamboo Grove Guild been arrested, but even the Liu family, his last support, had been swept away—he had been uprooted completely, the fire beneath the cauldron snuffed out!

“The wretched Wang Gemao! That scoundrel must have taken Lord Liu—if I ever—” Logan beat his chest in fury, wishing he could thrash that corrupt official for his arrogance.

“N-no… it wasn’t Magistrate Wang,” the servant stammered, nearly incoherent with fear. “It was Prefect Lu who led the men…”