Song Ting already knew the identity of the man in black. He dared not hurt the man in black himself, nor did he dare to damage the gun in the other's hand. He could only passively parry with his longsword.

However, the difference in strength between the two was ultimately too great. After a dozen or so moves, Song Ting struck the man in black on the shoulder with a palm strike, and the spear instantly flew out of his hand.

The man in black panicked and chased after him, but Song Ting beat him to it and grabbed the spear.

"Give it back to me!" The man in black's eyes became fierce and terrifying due to bloodshot eyes, as if burning with dark red eerie flames, or as if countless drops of blood had soaked into those eyes, making his expression also become frenzied.

He lunged at Song Ting like a madman, yelling, "Give it back to me!"

"Brother Zhou, calm down. I just want to talk to you. After I've asked you what I want to know, I will present the young master's spear to you intact."

Prince Duan's heir, Chu Huaiqing, wielded a long spear with unparalleled skill, terrifying the southern barbarians. The children of the Dayan Dynasty idolized him, and it was common to see children chasing and playing with long, thin wooden sticks in the streets and alleys, using the sticks as spears to spar and exchange blows.

When playing the game, everyone was eager to be "Chu Huaiqing". They would take the bed sheet that their mother had hung out to dry and drape it over their bodies, which became the red cloak over Chu Huaiqing's silver armor. They looked majestic and invincible.

Chu Huaiqing is a hero to every child in Dayan.

But later, Prince Duan plotted a rebellion, and the names of Prince Duan and his son became taboo in Dayan, and no one dared to mention them.

How lamentable, how absurd.

Song Ting remembered that Zhou Tong used to not use a spear; he preferred a long knife.

"Brother Zhou, give me the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, let's have a good talk."

But Zhou Tong couldn't hear anything anymore; all he could see was the spear that Song Ting was holding.

"Song Ting, you'll die a horrible death!"

Song Ting stood ramrod straight, his deep, dark eyes piercing through the night and landing on Zhou Tong's face, which was filled with hatred.

"Brother Zhou, what do you have to do with the ninety-three people in Sishui Town? What do you have to do with the Red Lotus Sect?" he asked calmly.

"Commander, you're so capable, aren't you? If that's the case, feel free to bring me before the little emperor and torture me severely. But if I utter a single word to you, may I die a horrible death." Zhou Tong laughed loudly.

You won't get the answer by asking like that.

Song Ting was well aware of this. Zhou Tong harbored deep hatred for him and would never cooperate with him.

“Brother Zhou.” He raised the arm holding the spear. “The young master’s things are still in my hands. If you want them back, answer my questions properly.”

He's already a villain, so he's not afraid of adding this one more thing. It's like having too many lice and not feeling the itch.

"Song Ting! I'm going to kill you!" This was Zhou Tong's Achilles' heel. He was blinded by anger and almost rushed forward again, but he managed to hold back because of what Song Ting was holding.

But if he did nothing, he felt resentful, so he just kept cursing:

"Song Ting, you're like an ungrateful dog. The Prince and Princess, and all the young masters in the Prince's mansion, everyone treats you so well. How... how could you be so heartless!"

"The Third Young Master should never have taken you into the Prince's Mansion in the first place. He should have let you be beaten to death or starved to death! Song Ting, you deserve to die a horrible death! You beast, worse than a pig or a dog!"

Zhou Tong was an honest man who didn't mess around. He spent his days following Chu Huaiqing around, so he didn't even know how to curse. He only knew a few phrases over and over again.

Over the years, Song Ting has been subjected to countless curses, most of which were a hundred or a thousand times more offensive than those hurled by Zhou Tong. In particular, the mouths of scholars and writers could curse without using any vulgar language, yet in just a few words, they had already insulted Song Ting's ancestors for generations.

But Song Ting didn't care at all. He treated them all like barking dogs, and felt it was unnecessary to even glance at them.

Now, only the curses of two people cause him pain.

One is Huaixu.

The other one is Zhou Tong.

Pain crept into Song Ting's eyes. He felt as if he had been thrown into an endless, cold, deep sea, and his blood had frozen.

"Brother Zhou." He closed his eyes, forcing himself to look into the other person's eyes, "I will repay the debts I owe, but now, you must tell me, do you and Huai Xu have any connection with the Red Lotus Sect?"

Zhou Tong stopped talking, glaring at Song Ting with resentment. After a long while, he tore open his clothes, revealing the seven red lotus petals on his heart.

Song Ting's pupils suddenly contracted.

“Telling you won’t hurt, as long as you leave with your life tonight,” Zhou Tong said. “You wanted to know how I survived, right? Fine, I’ll tell you…”

Five years ago, when news of Prince Duan's rebellion reached the northern desert from Chang'an, the Xuanjia Army was at war with the Turks. The eldest prince was extremely anxious, worried about his family in Chang'an, but in order to drive the Turks out, he stayed in the army and fought desperately to defend against the enemy.

The second carrier hawk arrived, bringing news of the destruction of the Duan Prince's mansion and the deaths of the Duan Prince and his second son, Chu Huaiyun.

They had just won a brilliant victory that day, but this letter was colder than the wind in the northern desert. Chu Huaiqing couldn't even finish reading the letter before he fainted from the shock.

Like Song Ting, Zhou Tong was picked up by Chu Huaiqing from the roadside. He was very young at the time, only about five or six years old. Since then, he has always followed Chu Huaiqing, like a shadow, and they have never been apart.

Unlike the composed second young master, Chu Huaiqing, the eldest son of the Prince's Mansion, is a playful and audacious young man who has been beaten countless times by the Prince since childhood.

On one occasion, the prince even beat him with a stick so badly that one of his legs almost broke, and he couldn't get out of bed for half a month.

Zhou Tong looked distressed and heartbroken, but he cheerfully ordered him to feed him grapes and massage his shoulders, showing no sign of distress.

He's always been like this; it's like he'd hold up the sky for others even if it were falling down, while simultaneously asking Zhou Tong to peel grapes for him to eat.

Zhou Tong had never seen him show such a pained and helpless expression before, as if it were more despairing than the sky falling and the earth collapsing.

"Young Master, let's go back to Chang'an. One hundred thousand Xuanjia soldiers are enough to flatten the entire city, avenge the Prince and the Second Young Master, and rescue the Young Master."

Chu Huaiqing shook his head and forced himself to sit up.

"The Turks are eyeing us covetously. Once the Xuanjia Army withdraws, they will surely come back with a vengeance, and then the people of the northern desert will suffer."

"So you're not going to avenge the Prince and the Second Young Master? What about the Third Young Master? He's still in that imperial prison, a place that eats people alive. How can the young master endure such suffering?"

"Since those people are heartless, don't blame us for being unjust. They murdered the prince, the princess, and the second young master. Why should we stay here and protect the Great Yan's territory for them? Young master, let's go back and fight them!"