Chapter 147 — The Long-Awaited...

Proud as the Right Elder was, he had, after all, come to beg for money. How could he put on too lofty an air? He could only bow and scrape a little, rising to withdraw from the masked man's room.

The masked man, however, sank into thought. He had not expected that brat Yang Cenbin to be so lucky. He had assumed the boy was merely a reckless fool with more courage than brains, yet his own plans seemed to grow harder and harder to carry out.

About four or five hundred meters from Yang Juehuan's BMW, a middle-aged man smiled bitterly and put his wireless earpiece back on. The moans of a man and woman that had come through earlier had made him uncomfortable, so he had taken it off for a while.

But now there was no sound at all in the earpiece, only two even breaths, one rough and one soft. It seemed the two of them had gone to rest—which also meant Wang Yanqiu was in no mortal danger. Only then did the middle-aged man set his mind at ease.

Poking his head out from a snowdrift in the distance and shaking the snow off his body, the middle-aged man began to stir his limbs. He had been lying in that snowdrift the whole time and was nearly frozen stiff—he had almost become his own crowning masterpiece, "Tombstone."

Earlier, at the temple fair, after his first exchange with Yan, the middle-aged man had taken note of Yang Juehuan's identity. After careful investigation, he had already gleaned some clues.

The disciple of the King of Assassins—a faint smile crossed the middle-aged man's lips. Very interesting. Sometimes the ways of the world were truly marvelous. The young lady fought desperately to reject and resist her own fate, even going so far as to run away from home, and in the end the result was just the same.

Still, one had to admit this was a good thing. The middle-aged man smiled, rose to his feet, and sped off like a gust of wind from the foot of West Star Mountain, racing toward the city.

With Yang Ce protecting Wang Yanqiu, that was enough, wasn't it? Apart from his confidence that he could best Yang Ce in speed, the middle-aged man had no assurance of victory in any other respect. And he had also heard about Yang Ce's recent special training—the Yang Ce of this moment should be even harder to deal with than before, no?

At last, he could get a good night's sleep.

Unknowingly, a fish-belly white began to spread across the eastern sky, and Yang Ce, abnormally sensitive to light, opened his eyes at that moment. Wang Yanqiu, still nestled against him, was sleeping soundly. Yang Ce hesitated—he could not bear to disturb her—and quietly watched her flushed little face.

Perhaps quite a while later, when the sky had turned a hazy gray, Wang Yanqiu finally woke. She stretched lazily and opened her eyes. Seeing Yang Ce gazing at her with open eyes, she gave a start. "You didn't sleep?"

"I did, but I woke up." Yang Ce could not resist pinching Wang Yanqiu's tender cheek, then said, "You were sleeping so soundly I didn't want to disturb you."

"Oh." Wang Yanqiu nodded, rather satisfied with Yang Ce's attitude just then. Though she could hardly call it goodwill toward Yang Moyi, the dislike she had felt before had indeed diminished somewhat.

Perhaps because her body had gone numb from sleep, Wang Yanqiu unconsciously twisted her body—and immediately felt the hardness beneath Yang Ce. She froze. "You... you didn't hold it in all night, did you?"

"What do you think?" Yang Moyi found it rather amusing.

"You've been hard this whole time—doesn't it hurt?" Wang Yanqiu said in surprise.

"Little Yanyan, I thought you knew quite a lot. That's morning wood, all right?" Yang Jincong explained with a laugh.

"Oh... you're awful." Wang Yanqiu suddenly understood. She had indeed read about such a thing in books, she just hadn't remembered it clearly.

"You've slept about enough. How about we go another round right now?" Yang Moyi said, his heart stirring.

"Now?" Wang Yanqiu glanced out the car window and saw that dawn had broken. She frowned and refused, "What if someone sees us? I don't want to."

"Then what am I supposed to do?" Yang Ce pointed at his lower half.

"We'll deal with it when we get back." Wang Yanqiu's face flushed red, then she grew annoyed again and glared at him. "You're a bit too wicked. You knew perfectly well I can't beat you, and you still set a trap for me. Are you satisfied now?"

"I..." Yang Ce finally understood the saying that women are unreasonable. There was simply no reasoning with them. Yesterday it had clearly been Wang Yanqiu shouting and clamoring to challenge him, and today it had become him setting a trap for her.

"Don't think that just because I've done it with you, I'll like you," Wang Yanqiu went on. "I'm only keeping my promise. One day, when I'm strong enough, I will kill you with my own hands."

"Oh, I'll look forward to it, then." Yang Xutang chuckled, not taking it to heart at all.

Wang Yanqiu sat up from Yang Juehuan's body and quickly dressed. There had been nothing unusual before, but the moment she separated from Yang Juehuan's body, Wang Yanqiu suddenly felt a sharp pain and frowned.

"What's wrong?" Yang Ce saw it and asked quickly.

"Nothing." Wang Yanqiu, now that she was dressed, had gone back to that cold, aloof expression. She glanced down at Yang Juehuan's lower half and said, "Aren't you going to put that disgusting thing away? Careful, or I'll cut it off for you."

That dagger, which had fallen to the floor the night before, was somehow back in Wang Yanqiu's hand at some point, and the girl was now toying with it, flipping and twirling it.

Yang Lanxu's heart lurched, and he hurriedly pulled up his trousers. Good heavens—was this girl suffering from split personalities? She had been perfectly fine a moment ago. Why had she turned on him the instant she was dressed? Did she take him for nothing but a stud, someone to use and cast aside once it was done?

"Coward." Wang Yanqiu tucked the dagger away with contempt, then could not resist adding a jab at Yang Puqi.

"I shouldn't have gone soft on you yesterday. I should have just killed you." The "kill" Yang Ce spoke of now was naturally not with a blade—and what he meant by it, Wang Yanqiu surely understood perfectly well.

Seeing Wang Yanqiu turn on him like that, as though she no longer knew him, Yang Ce grew a little irritated.

"But you didn't," Wang Yanqiu said with a cold laugh. "Yang Ce, I've found your weakness. You're soft-hearted."

Damn it, Yang Ce wanted to swear. This girl had seen clean through him—right to his one and only weak spot.

"That depends on who it is," Yang Ce said coldly. "I didn't kill you because there's something I still haven't figured out."

"What haven't you figured out?" Wang Yanqiu asked, a little puzzled.

"What is your connection to the Black Widow assassins?" Yang Ce asked suddenly.

"What?" Wang Yanqiu's expression shifted in an instant, though she recovered herself quickly. Yet that single instant had been caught clearly by Yang Ce. "What Black Widow? What is that?"

"Nothing. An organization of assassins," Yang Lin'yue said mildly. He did not call her out on that expression from a moment ago; he did not want to push too hard. Better to let it sink in first, and deal with the rest slowly.

"And what does that have to do with me?" Wang Yanqiu's expression was a little unnatural.

"Don't you think your fighting skills are rather good?" Yang Ce shrugged. "It makes me think of a profession."

"What profession?" Wang Yanqiu felt a stir in her heart.

"Assassin," Yang Yanzhou said.

"You're saying I'm an assassin?" Wang Yanqiu feigned a moment of stupefaction, then laughed. "Ha, you're overthinking it. Are there even assassins in this world?"

"Then where did your gun come from?" Yang Ce countered.