Chapter 223 - 110: The County Magistrate Hosts a Banquet, the Master Is Shocked

On a street corner not far away, a steamed bun shop still had its lights on. Steam from the bamboo steamers fogged up the windows, and the faint scent of wheat filled the air.

He hesitated for a moment but ultimately looked away, deciding against going to the bun shop.

’I can save them for a day, but can I save them for a lifetime?’

There were hundreds, if not thousands, of refugees on these streets, and millions in all of Jizhou. Even if he spent all one hundred thousand taels, it would be a mere drop in the ocean.

’I could save them today, but what about tomorrow?’

’What about next month?’

’How could I possibly stop the torrent of this chaotic world alone?’

Yang Jing took a deep breath, calmed the turmoil within him, and continued walking home.

As he passed an old woman huddled in a corner, he glimpsed a deathly pale child cradled in her arms. Both of their lips were purple from the cold.

Yang Jing didn’t break his stride. With his left hand, he pulled a few heavy coins from his robe and flicked them with his finger.

FLICK.

FLICK.

With a few soft thuds, the copper coins landed precisely in the laps of the old woman and two other dying children nearby.

The old woman froze. Lowering her head, she felt the copper coins in her lap. A faint glimmer flickered in her murky eyes. She looked up, trying to see who had helped her, but all she saw was the back of a figure in a green robe, treading through the snow as he walked away.

Yang Jing didn’t look back.

’This was all I could do.’

’In this dog-eat-dog world, the first thing I have to do is become strong enough—strong enough to protect the people I care about.’

’As for doing more... without enough power, it’s all just empty talk.’

The snowstorm raged on, and Yang Jing’s figure quickly vanished at the end of the alley. He left behind a scene of despair, shivering in the cold wind, as he walked further and further away.

Soon, the small courtyard in Tongyi Square came into view.

On the stone steps in front of the courtyard gate sat a slender figure. Snowflakes had covered his shoulders and hair like a thin layer of cotton.

Yang Jing’s eyesight was far beyond that of an ordinary person. Even in the dim light and swirling snow, he recognized the figure at a glance as Jiang Haoyang.

His heart stirred, and he quickened his pace.

Jiang Haoyang only snapped out of his daze when Yang Jing walked up to him. He looked up, saw who it was, and shot up from the stone steps, showering the ground with the snow that had collected on him.

He rubbed his eyes hard, which were stinging from the wind and snow. After confirming it was really Yang Jing before him, his voice was instantly filled with excitement. "Senior Brother! You’re finally back!"

Yang Jing looked at his nose and cheeks, both bright red from the cold. He reached out to brush the snow from his shoulders, the fabric feeling ice-cold to his fingertips. "Why are you sitting out here in this freezing weather?"

Jiang Haoyang grinned, rubbing his stiff, frozen hands together. His tone carried a youthful stubbornness. "It’s nothing. Even though I haven’t broken through to the Bright Strength realm yet, I’m still a martial artist. My vitality and circulation are much stronger than an ordinary person’s, so I’m not afraid of the cold. I came straight here from the Martial Arts Hall, thinking I’d wait for you."

As he spoke, he stood on his tiptoes to look Yang Jing up and down, his eyes scanning him as if for injuries. Only after confirming Yang Jing had no obvious wounds did he let out a sigh of relief and press, "Senior Brother, you’re not hurt, are you?"

"Don’t worry, I’m fine."

Yang Jing was amused by his anxious expression, but a wave of warmth spread through his heart. "Just a little tired."

’He knew this kid must have been worried sick, waiting for me in this snowstorm for who knows how long.’

Yang Jing pushed open the courtyard gate. A faint smell of cooking smoke drifted from within. The kitchen was lit, and a busy silhouette was cast upon the window paper—it was clearly his cousin, Yang An, making dinner.

"Come inside and warm up. Have a bowl of hot soup before you go," Yang Jing said, stepping aside to let him in.

Jiang Haoyang, however, shook his head. He could see the unconcealable exhaustion in Yang Jing’s eyes. "No thanks, Senior Brother. I’m relieved now that you’re back. You should get inside and rest. I’m heading home, too."

With that, he gave Yang Jing another smile, then turned and ran into the snowstorm. His slender figure quickly disappeared at the end of the alley.

Yang Jing stood at the courtyard gate, watching the direction he had gone. Only after the figure vanished completely did he look away.

The snowstorm was still cold, but Jiang Haoyang’s words were like a small flame, spreading a gentle warmth through his heart.

He turned, pushed open the ajar kitchen door, and a wave of warm air mixed with the aroma of food washed over him. "Brother, I’m back."

"Ah Jing, you’re back? Come inside and warm up. I’ve lit the stove. Dinner will be ready soon," Yang An’s voice came from behind the stove.

Yang Jing grunted in acknowledgment and walked into the main room. He took off his snow-dusted outer robe and watched the dancing flames in the stove. The nerves that had been tense all day finally, completely, relaxed.

Before long, Yang An brought the food from the kitchen to the eight-immortals table in the main room.

A large, coarse porcelain bowl was filled with top-grade Exotic Beast Meat, stewed until it was fall-apart tender. The broth was amber-colored and gave off a rich, meaty aroma.

He’d guessed Yang Jing had something important and strenuous to attend to that day, so he’d started slow-cooking the stew at noon. When Yang Jing hadn’t come home on time, he had reheated it repeatedly, determined to have it ready for his return.

On the table was also a plate of soy-braised horse meat, a deep reddish-brown in color, with a good mix of fat and lean. There was a dish of pickled vegetables, crisp and emerald green, and a basin of brown rice, steaming hot.

Though it was a simple home-cooked meal, it radiated an honest, simple warmth.

"Go on, eat up. This pound of dark meat has been stewing for half the day," Yang An said as he ladled a bowl of the meat broth for Yang Jing and pushed it in front of him.

While they were eating, Yang An finally couldn’t help but ask, "Today... nothing bad happened, did it?"

Yang Jing took a sip of the hot soup. The warmth slid down his throat and into his stomach, chasing away the chill. He smiled. "I’m fine. Just helped a friend with something. It’s all taken care of."