The plum rain season in Jiangnan always arrives with such quiet yet swift force. In the early morning, a thin, gauzy mist still lingered between heaven and earth, gently shrouding the river in a dreamlike, almost ethereal veil, as if casting a hazy veil over the entire Jiangnan water town. However, at the end of the morning hour, the tranquility was suddenly shattered as a torrential downpour descended without warning. Bean-sized raindrops slammed like swift arrows onto the blue tiles of the Baotianxia bun shop, their crackling sounds blending into a melody of passionate yet somewhat chaotic music. The splashing water quickly pooled on the bluestone steps, forming winding streams that gurgled gently.
Jiang Xiaohuang lazily sprawled on the elm counter by the window, her chin resting lightly on the cool surface, her eyes gazing wistfully at the pouring rain outside. Her sleeve, embroidered with lotus flowers, casually brushed against the account book, smudged the ink, and a faint, small mark appeared on the page, resembling an abstract ink painting.
"Mo Chen, look at how recklessly the rain is falling." She stretched out her bent finger and gently poked the young man, who was concentrating on calculating his accounts. Her fingertip was inadvertently stained with the ink left in the inkstone. "Yesterday we were talking about waiting for the lotus flowers to bloom so we could go to Naquyuan Fenghe to admire them. Now it seems that West Lake is about to become as turbulent as the Yellow River."
Hearing the voice, Mo Chen gently set down the ivory abacus in his hand and gracefully raised his hand to roll up his slipping sleeve. The light reflected the light, leaving a faint scar on his wrist from the injury he had sustained. He smiled and pushed over a freshly baked caramel bun. The bun was golden and tempting, and the golden syrup on the skin was still bubbling and steaming, emitting a sweet aroma. "Let's eat something to fill our stomachs first. Although the rain came suddenly, it may stop by the afternoon." As the white mist from the steamer curled up and spread, it seemed to cover the entire space with a soft veil, blurring the watery tenderness in his eyes. Once the young master of the demon sect, he now wore an indigo shirt and an apron tied around his waist, which was still stained with flour. He looked like a genuine Jiangnan shopkeeper.
Jiang Xiaohuang gently picked up the bun and took a bite. The sweet aroma of caramel instantly spread across her tongue, blending wonderfully with the drizzle of rain. She was about to complain about the annoying downpour again when a sudden, chaotic sound of footsteps echoed outside the door. The sound of boots pounding through the stagnant water was particularly harsh, like a sharp awl, piercing the previously peaceful atmosphere. Then, the crisp "clang" of metal being unsheathed, like an ice pick, piercing the warm air inside the bun shop.
"Bang!" The carved wooden door was violently kicked open by a brute force, and a dozen nimble masked men rushed in like ghosts. Rainwater dripped from their black clothes, leaving dark marks on the blue brick floor, like the footprints left by the god of death. The man in the lead reached out and ripped off the black cloth from his face, revealing a hideous face covered with several red spots from flour burns, making it look particularly terrifying. This man was Bao Banxian, the one who had been covered in raw flour by Jiang Xiaohuang last time. At this moment, the scar on his forehead was twitching violently with anger, and it was obvious that he was still brooding over the previous embarrassing encounter and hated it.
"Jiang Xiaohuang, Mo Chen, you can't escape today!" Bao Banxian's voice was like a rusty saw, scraping through the air with a grinding sound that made the steamer cloth hanging from the beam tremble slightly. "Today, I will enforce justice on behalf of Heaven and purge you, the scum of the Demonic Cult!"
Mo Chen's brows knitted tightly together, and he almost subconsciously protected Jiang Xiaohuang behind him. The abacus bag tied around his waist swayed slightly with his rapid movements, making a subtle sound. Last year, the story of him stealing the Nine-Bend Linked Beads in order to save his mother from the Demon Cult had already spread throughout the martial arts world. Facing Bao Banxian's aggressive pursuit, a thin layer of sweat had already seeped out of his palms, but his eyes remained firm. "Bao Banxian, I have long since left the Demon Cult and have nothing to do with you anymore. Why are you forcing me so hard?"
"Break away?" Bao Banxian sneered, his mouth twisted and saliva splashing on the edge of the counter. "Do you think the blood of a traitor can wash away the sins you have committed? And you, you witch," he pointed fiercely at Jiang Xiaohuang who had peeked out from behind Mo Chen, his eyes filled with hatred, as if he wanted to eat her alive, "How dare you bewitch the young master of the Demon Sect? Today, I will skin you both alive and feed you to the fish!"
Jiang Xiaohuang's eyebrows shot up in anger, and she slammed the buns she was holding onto the counter. The syrup splattered, leaving a patchy pattern on the account book. "Who are you calling a witch? My grandmother is Su Jinli, the daughter of the Prime Minister, and my grandfather is Jiang Yan, a three-dynastic veteran! If you dare lay a finger on me, my uncle will dig up your ancestral graves!" She was so angry that she put her hands on her hips and was about to charge forward, but Mo Chen pulled her back.
"Stop talking nonsense and get to work!" Bao Banxian waved his hand impatiently, and the masked men behind him immediately rushed forward like wolves, swords drawn. The blades, reflecting off the rain outside the window, gleamed with an icy cold gleam, blinding the eye, as if the next second held endless danger. Although Mo Chen knew some basic cult martial arts, his focus on protecting Jiang Xiaohuang limited his movements. He could only rely on the abacus bag at his waist to block the blows. The wooden beads struck the blades with a crisp, piercing sound, a startling echo in the tense atmosphere.
"Mo Chen!" Jiang Xiaohuang watched helplessly as the handle of the knife struck his shoulder. Her heart was pounding, and she couldn't help but jump and shout. In her panic, she caught sight of the bamboo sieve used to sift flour on the counter, and an idea flashed through her mind. Quick-witted, she grabbed the sieve and hurled it towards the face of the masked man closest to her. In an instant, snow-white flour exploded in the air like smoke, blinding the masked man. The man screamed in agony, his hands instinctively covering his face. The blade in his hand swung uncontrollably, nearly striking his companion.
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