Chapter Forty-Six: Put It on My Tab

Ji Wu swung himself down from his horse and was just about to help the old man up from the ground when suddenly a foot shot out from the side and kicked the old man over. The child in his arms tumbled down, opened his mouth to cry, but could make no sound.

Fury surged in Ji Wu as he turned toward the one who had kicked them, his brows drawn together in icy anger. “Fang Laoba, what do you think you’re doing?!”

The man called Fang Laoba bore a burn scar across his face—a mark anyone seasoned in the underworld would recognize as a tattoo branded by the authorities. Even if he’d managed to survive prison, the mark would remain for life, unless he chose to burn his own face again with charcoal—better to be disfigured than branded.

“Young master, this is no time for compassion.” Fang Laoba spoke, but the way he stressed "young master" was anything but respectful, laced instead with mockery.

The Ji family’s escort agency wanted to gather people together for safety, and these wandering fighters were included. Fang Laoba was skilled and ruthless, known for his deadly moves—a true hard case. Though nothing unforgivable could be found in his past, when he offered to join, Ji Yun had finally agreed.

But Fang Laoba had never accepted Ji Wu’s place as leader of the group. Unfortunately, Xiong Ba only listened to Ji Wu, so Fang Laoba had no recourse. Throughout the journey, he and Ji Wu had clashed repeatedly, their relationship strained at best.

Now, that kick had Ji Wu’s fury blazing. He demanded coldly, “He was only grabbing spilled grain from the ground, not from the cart. What right did you have to kick him?”

Fang Laoba laughed. “A good dog doesn’t block the road. If he does, he deserves a kick.”

“You!” Such insolence ignited Ji Wu’s temper. In an instant, he drew his Abyssal Spring Sword.

“Come on, then! Go ahead and cut me!” Fang Laoba showed not a trace of fear. He even stepped forward, bringing his neck closer to the sword.

Such a rogue!

Ji Wu’s teeth ground in frustration, but he could not truly strike him down. He sheathed his sword in silence, turned away, and bent to help the old man and child, saying, “Take whatever you can from the ground...”

Before he could finish, Fang Laoba interrupted, “That’s everyone’s property.”

“Put it on my account!” Ji Wu snapped, seething. This wretch—next time, he would not travel with him!

“Thank you, sir, thank you!” Instead of being angry at the kick, the old man, clutching his grandson, was full of gratitude and wanted to bow again.

“Go on, quickly—take whatever you can carry,” Ji Wu encouraged, shooting a proud look at Fang Laoba, eager to see what he would say now.

But Fang Laoba only glared back coldly, a mocking smile on his lips, which made Ji Wu’s anger flare even hotter.

Before he could vent his rage, a crowd of refugees clutching children rushed toward Ji Wu, begging all at once.

“Sir, my child hasn’t eaten in days...”

“Please, sir, have mercy, just a mouthful for my two children—even if you take one of them in exchange!”

“Sir, you look like a kind man—the old fellow can’t pick up all the grain, let us take some too!”

At least a dozen desperate parents surrounded Ji Wu. The threat of Xiong Ba’s presence was nothing compared to the hunger gnawing at their children.

Xiong Ba, standing nearby, let out a low questioning growl. Ji Wu knew he was asking whether to intervene. Though overwhelmed, Ji Wu waved him off. Faced with these emaciated, skeletal refugees, he hesitated.

The scattered grain wasn’t much. The old man could not gather it all, but with so many people, it wouldn’t be enough.

At this moment, Fang Laoba’s mocking voice drifted over. “Enjoy playing the hero, eh?”

With a cold laugh, Fang Laoba, having had his fill of the spectacle, turned back to the group.

That was the last straw for Ji Wu. He shouted, “Bring me two sacks of grain! All those with children get a share! Put it on my account!”

There were those in the group loyal to Ji Wu, and they quickly brought over two sacks of grain. Ji Wu drew his Abyssal Spring Sword, sliced open the bags, and told the crowd, “No fighting—take what you can, but don’t snatch!”

“Thank you, sir, thank you!” came the chorus of gratitude. “We’ve finally met a good man, may you be blessed with boundless fortune and a long life!”

The praise came thick and fast. Even with two sacks, there were more people than grain, and they had no bags—only their clothes to wrap what they could, but much was left behind.

Ji Wu was about to collect the remaining grain when someone asked, “Sir, are you really taking the rest? We haven’t eaten in days. Please, have pity on us!”

“Yes, sir, you’re a wealthy man—let us have the grain on the ground!”

Now even the refugees without children were crowding forward, their eyes fixed hungrily on the grain. Even with Xiong Ba nearby, the lure of food dulled their fear.

Ji Wu frowned, but after a moment’s thought, he waved his hand. “Take it, take it all. Once it’s gone, that’s it.”

“Sir says we can take it!” The crowd erupted in joy, scrambling for the remaining grain like a horde of starving ghosts.

Those who had hesitated now surged in, driven by a desperate energy that belied their skeletal frames. In the blink of an eye, dozens crowded in, pushing Ji Wu aside.

The commotion drew others from farther away.

“There’s grain here?”

“They’re giving it out?”

No one could say who spoke first, or who acted first. With so many people, the meager two sacks of grain were not enough.

In the chaos, a bold soul made for the grain on the wagons.

He was immediately kicked away by the others.

But, undeterred, the man shouted as he tumbled, “There’s more grain on the wagons! If we don’t get it, we’ll starve!”

In a flash, Fang Laoba charged forward, his blade flashing—one head flew.

But the hunger-driven crowd was now a beast unleashed.

Hundreds of refugees surged toward the wagons, oblivious to the drawn swords of the escort party, seeing only the grain that promised life.

Some, even with their hands hacked off, shrieked as they used their remaining limbs to claw grain from the sacks, stuffing it desperately into their mouths.

Ji Wu’s lips trembled. Xiong Ba came to his side, awaiting a single command—a single word would unleash him...