บท 87: 87, added three more

The wind had risen in the mountains.

Laojun Mountain, with an elevation of over two thousand meters, lies between the Funiu Mountain Range.

The nights here are sharply cold and windy.

The air is dense with fog, and by morning, all the outdoor furniture surfaces would be coated with a layer of moisture.

In the courtyard, someone had thrown fresh firewood into the bonfire, dimming the light it cast as the new logs smothered the flames.

The flickering firelight, refracting through the slowly swirling fog, seemed like the mesmerizing play of light and shadow in the night.

Among the shadows, a youth with a knife stood silently at the intersection of the thin mist and darkness, sizing up a lone thug outside the courtyard.

It was not until this moment that he understood what Ye Wan had said:

Life is indeed very fragile—a knife thrust into the heart, and no matter how important the person is, they would die.

But killing was not easy.