Edward Clark shook his head with a light laugh, placed his longsword on the table, and began to eat heartily.

Martha Foster lowered her head and sipped her soup in small mouthfuls, her eyes constantly glancing at Edward Clark across from her. Perhaps a bit nervous, she looked left and right, then fixed her gaze on the longsword on the table, smiling as she searched for something to say:

“Mr. Clark, what’s the name of your sword?”

“Zhao Dan.”

“Zhao Dan... I feel like I’ve heard that somewhere before... My father also uses a sword, and he taught me, but unfortunately he’s not very good at it, so I only know one move...”

“Is that so...”

Muttering...

As the sun rose higher, the street gradually became bustling with people.

Two empty large bowls sat on the small table. Martha Foster stood up and patted her belly, a sheen of fragrant sweat on her forehead. She raised her hand to wipe it, and saw Edward Clark take a wine jug from the carriage and take a swig. She chuckled and said:

“Heir Clark, drinking in the morning is bad for your health.”

“Not drinking is worse.”

“Oh... Heir Clark, you’re quite the drinker. I like drinking too, my favorite is the Duanyu Liquor from the Sun family’s shop at Daye Lane, it’s really strong...”

Edward Clark led the horse, steering away from the crowded street and turning into an alley, tilting his head with a hint of helplessness:

“Miss Foster, you talk a bit too much.”

“Really? I... then I won’t talk anymore...”

“Let’s get to business.”

“Oh... There’s a guy called ‘Robert Evans’ in the West Market, he’s the local boss there. I heard he owns two gambling dens, but unfortunately there are no leads. His informants are sharp—once someone comes, he runs off right away...”

--------

“Candied hawthorns—”

“Coal for sale—”

“You son of a—”

Amidst the noisy clamor near the watchtower in the West Market of Chang’an, a cluster of houses stood here. Merchants and vendors from the market often came here to relax, and gambling dens and brothels lined the area.

Inside a courtyard, the steward was counting the silver collected last night. Robert Evans sat at the table, wiping a knife with a white cloth. The blade was covered with marks of age, having followed him for as many years as he’d roamed the jianghu.

In the neighboring gambling den, the noise was deafening. From time to time, men who had lost even their pants were thrown out, cursing and spitting as they left.

“A bunch of gambling dogs. If you lot could win, I’d have to go eat dirt in the northwest...”

Robert Evans cursed, wiped his knife for a while, when suddenly a young attendant ran into the courtyard: “Boss, a wolf guard has entered the West Market and is heading this way.”

“Just one?”

“There’s also a rich kid, leading a horse that looks expensive. Judging by their looks, they’re not here to freeload. Boss, should we lay low for now?”

“No need.”

As he spoke, a cold voice sounded from the courtyard gate.

Robert Evans’s face changed instantly. He stood up, gripping his knife, and looked toward the gate, only to see a tall young man in white, carrying a longsword, striding in.

Behind him was a panting female wolf guard.

The thugs in the courtyard, seeing this, picked up their clubs and surrounded them.

Robert Evans got up and walked down the steps, his tiger-like eyes sizing them up. He first held his broadsword upside down and cupped his fist:

“Sir, you’ve come unannounced. Is there something urgent?”

Edward Clark didn’t stop walking, his right hand gripping the sword hilt.

“Watch out!”

In an instant, the courtyard erupted. The thugs with clubs were on high alert.

Robert Evans held his knife with both hands in front of him, taking a stance. His robe billowed, his aura rising, a fierce glint in his eyes:

“Brother, don’t refuse a toast only to drink a forfeit...”

Before he finished speaking, there was a crisp ‘clang’—the blade was drawn, a flash of cold light.

Clang—

Robert Evans hurriedly raised his knife to block, but to his shock, his broadsword was sliced cleanly in two.

Seeing this, Robert Evans was scared out of his wits, stumbling back in panic, but couldn’t avoid the sword tip thrusting at his throat.

At this life-and-death moment, Martha Foster lunged forward, tightly hugging Edward Clark’s arm:

“Spare him!”

Edward Clark halted, the sword tip at Robert Evans’s throat, frowning slightly: “Miss Foster, what do you mean by this?”

Martha Foster, panting, clung to Edward Clark’s arm, her face bitter: “Mr. Clark, his crime isn’t worth death. Why kill him outright?”

“That’s right!”

Robert Evans, having narrowly escaped death, was ashen-faced, slumping to the ground and stammering:

“I just stole the concubine of Master Wang’s household, killing is against the law...”

“...?”

Edward Clark was speechless, took a breath, sheathed his sword, and turned to leave.

Martha Foster panicked, dragged Robert Evans up, and hurried after Edward Clark, calling out anxiously:

“Mr. Clark, don’t be angry. Master Wang is offering a reward of two hundred taels of silver to have him arrested and thrown in jail—it’s worth a lot...”

Edward Clark turned his head: “I told you to take on some big cases, but you wasted my whole morning running in circles, just to catch an adulterous rascal. Is this fun to you?”

Martha Foster’s face fell, full of apology: “I... I just got here, I can’t get any big cases...”

Edward Clark thought for a moment, then said in a low voice: “If you want to join the Tianzi Battalion, catching these nobodies for a lifetime won’t be enough. You have to catch the real big shots of the jianghu.”

Martha Foster looked miserable, a bit aggrieved: “The real big shots of the jianghu, we can’t find them in Chang’an even if we tried. All the easy ones have already been caught by others. Unless we investigate slowly ourselves, where are we supposed to find big cases...”