The man dressed in vermilion clothes, with a waist saber in his hand, dressed as a common constable, had just appeared before he overwhelmed everyone present. He slowly paced to the side of the deceased, planted his saber with the scabbard into the ground nearby, and half-squatted, raising his hand to check the body.
His movements were calm and steady, his expression cold, seemingly too indifferent to converse further with the others. A grim aura of death enveloped him, deterring any rash actions.
The provincial official wiped the sweat from his brow and took another look at the paused martial artist, his thoughts tangled in chaos, one appearing and disappearing after another, yet he knew clearly that if things continued this way, he could not face the Pillar of the State.
