Outside, the sky was already completely dark. Inside the main hall, George Thompson was drinking while stuffing meat into his mouth, occasionally mumbling to himself.

Suddenly, David Thompson saw three shadows slowly appear on the window paper beside the main door. His heart leapt with excitement—the fish had finally arrived.

He stared intently at the three shadows and saw a small hole being poked in the window paper. Clearly, an eye was secretly peeking into the main hall.

David Thompson cursed the three of them for their stupidity—they hadn’t realized their shadows were cast on the window paper. If George Thompson just looked up, he would see the three shadows.

Unfortunately, George Thompson was completely lost in his drunken world. He had drunk about half a jar of wine and finished all the pork head meat in the paper bag. Then he slowly lay down on the ground, muttering incoherently, and before long, his snores filled the air—he had fallen asleep.

David Thompson immediately seized the opportunity, lit a fire striker, then blew it out, leaving only a few glowing embers.

A moment later, Frank Brooks’s voice came from outside the window, “He’s asleep, let’s do it!”

With a “pop!” the window paper was torn open, and a hand reached in through the window lattice, unlatched the window, and pushed it halfway open. The three little rascals slipped in one after another like mice.

The three of them crawled to the offering table and couldn’t wait to each grab a white jade cake and stuff it into their mouths. No wonder it was a famous Beijing pastry—the delicate, icy sweetness intoxicated these three country brats who had never seen such things.

They completely forgot their original plan to just try one. They carried the white jade cakes under the offering table, and then simply brought the other plate of the county’s specialty mung bean cakes under as well. Hiding under the table, they began calculating how many they could steal without being found out.

David Thompson had already quietly climbed down from the top of the wooden shrine and hid in a corner behind it, using the long-hanging curtain to cover the fire striker’s glowing embers. He took a vase from his chest and glanced at George Thompson lying about twenty feet away. He hesitated a bit—the vase weighed at least two jin and might injure someone if thrown.

Suddenly, he noticed a small stone at his feet. He picked it up, weighed it, and with a flick of his wrist, sent it flying. The stone hit George Thompson squarely in the face. The sharp pain jolted George Thompson awake from his dream. He sat up abruptly and, still groggy, saw the three little thieves hiding under the offering table, dividing the loot.

George Thompson instantly sobered up, his heart filled with rage. He roared, “What are you doing!”

This roar was like a thunderclap on a clear day. The three little rascals under the table were scared out of their wits. Frank Brooks instinctively stood up to run, but forgot about the table above him. His head slammed hard into the underside, flipping the table over. Offerings and dishes crashed to the ground, shattering everywhere. The sacrificial animals rolled all over the floor, and the offering table toppled with a loud crash. The three rascals were petrified with fear.

George Thompson was stunned too, but quickly came to his senses. He had to catch the thieves to clear himself of blame. Like a tiger, George Thompson pounced and grabbed all three of them.

“You little brats, you’ve caused a huge disaster!”

The three rascals burst into tears, wailing, “Fourth Uncle, we were wrong, please forgive us!”

“If I forgive you, who will forgive me!”

……

David Thompson was hiding behind the wooden shrine, about to relight the fire striker, when he suddenly saw a candle rolling on the ground. The candle hadn’t gone out and was still burning—this was simply fate.

He quickly pinched out the fire striker and stuffed it into his chest, carefully picked up the candle, and set the curtain on fire. The curtains in the main hall had hung for who knows how many years and were bone dry. As soon as the flame touched them, they burst into flames with a roar.

David Thompson stared at the burning fire, a look of determination flashing in his eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing. In this world where the strong prey on the weak, only by using extreme measures could he seek justice for his humiliated father and change the fate of both himself and his father.

David Thompson put down the candle, quickly slipped out of the main hall through a gap in the table, closed the window behind him, and ran madly out of the ancestral hall.

The three rascals, crying and struggling desperately, tried to break free from George Thompson’s grip and escape. George Thompson grew even angrier and dragged them toward the door.

At that moment, he suddenly smelled a pungent smoke. His heart sank, but afraid the three rascals would take the chance to run, he turned sideways and peeked behind the wooden shrine. He immediately saw the burning candle on the ground. Looking up, George Thompson was scared out of his wits—flames were leaping overhead, and all three curtains were ablaze.

His legs gave out and he collapsed to the ground, his voice trembling, “You… you’ve caused a catastrophe!”

Chapter 0009: Returning Injury with Justice (Part 2)

“Dong! Dong! Dong!”

Someone was frantically banging a gong at the north end of the town where the Li clan lived, shouting, “Fire! Fire! The ancestral hall is on fire! Everyone, come help!”

Men and women from every household rushed out, grabbing buckets and basins, and ran toward the ancestral hall at the foot of Lushan.

By now, the ancestral hall was already engulfed in flames. The fire raged, tongues of flame danced wildly, and countless members of the Li clan fetched water from the creek and rushed into the courtyard, throwing water at the burning main hall. But no one dared get close. Bucket after bucket of water only soaked the main door, but did nothing inside.

In fact, everyone could see clearly—the wooden shrine holding the ancestral tablets had already collapsed in the fire. Even if the flames were put out, the ancestral tablets could not be saved.