Chapter 166: Who Is the Killer

After glancing around calmly, Mu Feng pushed the food on the table toward Jing Wushuang. He waved his hand to shoo away the flies buzzing over the peanut plate. “Shuang’er, eat. Have more while it’s hot.”

Seeing Jing Wushuang eating very slowly and taking very little, as if the food did not suit her taste, a trace of pity appeared in Mu Feng’s eyes. Although he hoped to return to the room quickly to rest and avoid trouble, he could not bring himself to hurry her, no matter how slowly she ate. They had endured hardships along the journey, sleeping rough and traveling in dust, always worried about enemy ambushes and feeling anxious. Even a strong man might not withstand it, let alone a frail woman like her who had not yet recovered from serious injuries.

If it were someone else, they might have complained long ago. Yet, throughout the journey, no matter how tough it was, Jing Wushuang never uttered a single complaint, sharing both joys and hardships.

“I’m full, Brother Mu Feng. It’s been a tiring journey—you should eat more.”

Jing Wushuang put down the bun she had only taken a few bites of. She lowered her head slightly, pretending that sand had blown into her eyes, and gently rubbed her slightly reddened eyes.

Mu Feng only saw that she ate very little, but he did not know that it wasn’t because the food didn’t suit her taste—she simply couldn’t eat, having no appetite at all.

The closer they got to the Poison Sect, the less time they had left together.

After leaving Jianshui City, she had been depressed, never smiling again. Bumped around on the warhorse, the scar on her back had torn open again at some point, oozing small traces of blood. While riding, it was manageable, but after sitting down in the inn, she felt waves of sharp pain. Yet, no matter how painful the physical wound was, it could not compare to the pain in her heart.

Some pains are invisible, untouchable, and incurable—they hurt for a lifetime.

“Shuang’er, has your wound torn open?”

Mu Feng exclaimed in surprise. Only when Jing Wushuang lowered her head did he suddenly notice the small bloodstains seeping through her shoulder.

Throughout the journey, he had been riding ahead to lead the way, and after entering the inn, he had focused his attention on the other guests. It was only then that he realized something was wrong with Jing Wushuang, who had been following behind him all along.

“It’s nothing. The bleeding stopped long ago, Brother Mu Feng. Please eat your meal while it’s hot.”

Jing Wushuang’s face flushed slightly as she stopped Mu Feng from coming over.

Although there were many people in the inn, it was unusually quiet. Mu Feng’s sudden exclamation drew everyone’s attention. Instantly, even though she wore a large bamboo hat and was disguised as a man, she couldn’t help blushing.

“No, we’re going back to our room. Let’s go!”

Mu Feng made a quick decision and stood up to leave immediately.

Though they had traveled arduously to reach Cangjian Peak, according to the map given by Flying Sky Bat, it would still take several days to reach the Poison Sect deep in the Hengling Mountain Range. The mountains were high and the forests dense, with poisonous insects, fierce beasts, and miasma everywhere. If her old injury flared up now, it would be no small matter. At best, it would delay their journey; at worst, her condition could worsen, with unimaginable consequences.

Ding…

A bitter cold wind blew through. Just as Mu Feng was about to stand, he suddenly froze, sensing a strong danger. The sword hanging at his waist let out a soft hum.

There was killing intent!

Mu Feng’s heart tightened. He sat completely still, frantically stirring the Ancestral Sorcerer’s Essence Blood within him, preparing for a fatal strike.

After narrowly escaping death many times, he had developed sharp instincts. Without expanding his powerful Spiritual Soul or using divine sense, he instinctively sensed the killing intent directed at him.

This trace of killing intent was faint, almost imperceptible, fleeting—but he caught it sharply! Not only could he be sure there was killing intent in the inn, but it was aimed directly at him. Inside this small, humble inn, a terrifying cold-blooded killer lay in wait, having bided their time and now ready to strike!

A disciple of the Immortal Sword Sect, or an elite under Blind Master?

Outwardly, Mu Feng remained calm, but inwardly, his nerves were taut. At this moment, he could no longer spare attention to check Jing Wushuang’s injury.

Whether it was a disciple of the Immortal Sword Sect or one of Blind Master’s subordinates, the fact that they had remained hidden until now meant this was no ordinary killer. They wouldn’t strike lightly—when they did, the attack would be absolutely fierce. If he let his guard down even slightly, he and Jing Wushuang would be killed on the spot, never leaving this inn.

Whoosh…

The icy wind from the Snowy Mountain howled past. Mu Feng remained motionless, expanding his divine sense to monitor every person in the inn. Although he sensed the faint killing intent, he couldn’t pinpoint anything unusual at first, unable to tell who the deeply concealed cold-blooded killer was.

The two merchants at the next table? The three hunters not far away? Or the mysterious Black-clad Woman at the far right?

Mu Feng’s heart involuntarily began to beat faster.

The more he failed to identify the target, the more tense he became. Sitting perfectly still, he appeared to be savoring the crispy peanut he had just put in his mouth, but inside, his anxiety grew. Slowly, even fine beads of cold sweat formed on his forehead.

If he still couldn’t figure out who the killer was in this situation, what did that mean?

It meant the opponent’s experience, courage, and strength were exceptionally fearsome—far from an ordinary killer, even more dangerous than the previous cold-blooded assassin, Assassin Dao Duanliu. The later he discovered them, the greater the danger.

The bearded man at the next table suddenly grabbed the wine jug on the table, still gulping down wine though already drunk. The three hunters nearby—the big one in the middle subtly adjusted the hard bow on his back, his expression cold and suspicious. At the large central table, the fat man surrounded by eight burly men seemed unsteady on his feet from drinking, yet he occasionally squinted and scanned the surroundings, clearly feigning drunkenness. Not a trace of power fluctuation could be sensed from him. Was he really an ordinary merchant, or a master in disguise with unfathomable strength? The Black-clad Woman on the far right was even more suspicious—her chopsticks suddenly darted forward, accurately catching a fly buzzing near her. Her move was swift and precise…

Mu Feng took a deep breath, trying hard to calm down, concentrating on sensing every movement in the inn.

Unconsciously, more cold sweat trickled down his face.

“Tea’s here! Finest Snowy Mountain tea! Make way, everyone!”

Just as he locked onto the suspicious Black-clad Woman, pondering whether to strike first, a waiter shouted loudly while bowing his head and carrying two bowls of steaming hot tea. The faint, almost vanishing killing intent from earlier reappeared, growing clearer and stronger with the waiter’s approaching footsteps.

“The real killer is this waiter?”

Mu Feng was startled. His hand moved to the hilt of the sword at his waist.

As he was about to draw his sword and thrust it into the waiter’s chest, the waiter, now right in front of him, suddenly looked up and smiled, subtly extending his right wrist. On it, a droplet-shaped mark was clearly visible.

Someone from the Jianshui Gang?

Mu Feng was surprised. He hadn’t expected to encounter a scout from the Jianshui Gang here. He breathed a silent sigh of relief. It seemed Flying Sky Bat and the Jianshui Gang leader, Wu Jiu, had gone to great lengths for his safety.