THE HUNTER OF DARKNESS

The Death Demon Organization

The next morning, they resumed their journey. By midday, they arrived at a small house at the foot of Mount Xuebaoding.

They dismounted and approached the clean, well-maintained door.

“Are you sure this is Feng Shu’s house?” Fang An asked in disbelief. As the leader of a feared assassin organization, he had expected Feng Shu to live in luxury. What stood before him was far from that.

“I’m sure. Back when Feng Shu still worked at the palace, he often brought me here,” Lu Han replied.

After several knocks, the door finally opened.

An elderly man, over fifty years old, frowned at the sight of them. “Why are you two here? I have no business with you. Leave now!”

“Wait, Feng Shu! We mean you no harm,” said Fang An, trying to calm him down.

“I don’t believe a word you say, boy. You came here to kill me!” Feng Shu darted inside and returned with a black sword drawn.

Fang An and Lu Han stepped back from the door. Neither wanted to risk provoking the furious former official.

“Calm down, Feng Shu. I don’t intend to fight. If you don’t believe me, I’ll put down my sword,” Fang An said calmly, trying to soothe him.

“I don’t trust you! Throw your sword to me!” Feng Shu shouted.

Fang An untied the sword from his back and tossed the Sky Sword toward Feng Shu.

Feng Shu caught it effortlessly and examined it. Only then did he begin to believe Fang An’s intentions were not hostile.

“Now tell me why you’ve come here.”

“I want to speak with you, Feng Shu,” Fang An replied, his eyes filled with sincerity.

Feng Shu let out a deep breath, then tossed the Sky Sword back to Fang An. His experience told him the young man bore no ill will.

The narrow-eyed young man caught his weapon and smiled. “Do you believe me now, Feng Shu?”

Feng Shu nodded. “Come inside.”

Commander Lu Han was impressed by Fang An’s approach to winning over Feng Shu’s heart. After all, he had risked surrendering his treasured weapon. Had Feng Shu harbored ill intent, the outcome could have been very different.

Fang An and Commander Lu Han entered the neat, modest house. Inside, only a pandan mat lay spread across the floor—no chairs, tables, or any other furnishings could be seen.

Fang An sat cross-legged facing Feng Shu, while Commander Lu Han sat beside him.

“I apologize if I had ill intentions toward you yesterday,” Feng Shu suddenly said.

“I forgave you the moment it happened, Ki. I know you’ve never had personal issues with me—you only did it for payment,” Fang An replied, a warm smile curling his lips to ease the tension in the air.

Feng Shu was stunned by how easily Fang An forgave him. The old man rose, then disappeared into the back room. Not long after, he returned carrying a modest clay jug and three bamboo cups.

“Please have a drink—this is all I have in my home,” he said, placing the jug and cups on the mat.

“Do you always live here, Ki?” Fang An asked, pouring water into the three cups and handing them to Feng Shu and Commander Lu Han.

“I do, when nobody needs my services,” Feng Shu quietly replied, his eyes downcast upon Lu Han, who immediately bowed his head.

“I’m curious about you. You run a notorious assassin guild and must be paid a great deal. Yet you live in such humble simplicity—why?” Fang An questioned.

Feng Shu sighed deeply, his eyes wandering up to the pandan-leaf roof. “Actually, I’ve never eaten from the spoils of my services,” he whispered softly.

Fang An was taken aback, as was Commander Lu Han. “Are you not lying? Then where have your earnings gone all this time?”

“I’ve given everything to those in need. There are countless impoverished souls in this empire,” Feng Shu answered before exhaling heavily.

Fang An observed Feng Shu’s eyes intently—finding no sign of deception.

“I heard that you were once a palace official. Why step down and establish the Death Demon Organization, a name so fearsome?”

“As an official, I couldn’t move swiftly to gather funds to help those who needed me. Traveling through the provinces, I often saw starving children. My heart rebelled seeing them, but I was powerless,” Feng Shu explained, sorrow evident in his weary gaze.

“So you founded the Death Demon Organization? Wasn’t there another way to raise money?” Fang An continued, needing clarity before drawing conclusions.

“There was—but it didn’t raise money quickly. If I’d waited, how many lives would be lost to hunger outside those walls?”

Fang An responded thoughtfully to Feng Shu’s lament.

“If I can convince His Majesty to aid the starving masses of the realm, would you return to the palace and serve as an official again?”

Feng Shu froze, astonishment etched across his weathered features.

“If you return to the palace, I will request that His Majesty appoint you as Prime Minister in Shen Wei’s place,” Fang An continued.

Commander Lu Han was shocked. He wanted to protest, to argue that he was more deserving of that position—but then remembered that Fang An had saved his life.

“Are you sure you can persuade His Majesty?” Feng Shu asked.

“If I wasn't sure, why would I give you hope?” Fang An replied with a confident smile.

Feng Shu paused a moment, then nodded in agreement.

“Very well. Once I can secure His Majesty’s support, Commander Lu Han will join us here,” Fang An said.

Commander Lu Han was astonished but too fearful to object.

After exchanging polite farewells, Fang An took his leave. Stepping outside Feng Shu’s humble home, he exhaled with relief. From Feng Shu’s confession, Fang An believed he was truly worthy to serve as Prime Minister of the Shang Dynasty. Men like Feng Shu, with a soul as noble as his, would help elevate the empire.

After two days of travel, Fang An and Commander Lu Han arrived at the Shang Dynasty palace.

Princess Xian Lie ran eagerly to welcome Fang An as he crossed the palace gate. Her longing for him was deep—something she felt nothing could replace.

“Why are you so late?” Princess Xian Lie pouted.

Fang An scratched his head. “Weren’t we gone only four days?”

“To me, four days felt like ages! Don’t be so insensitive as a man,” she sulked, pushing her lips outward in exaggerated annoyance.

Fang An looked more confused—he didn’t understand at all. He’d never interacted much with women outside of his mother, so Princess Xian Lie’s emotions were a complete mystery to him.

“Come inside—there’s something I need to discuss with your father.”

“Is it that important?” the beautiful princess asked, pouting further.

“It’s also for the sake of the Shang Dynasty. Once I speak with His Majesty, you can come to my room and we’ll talk as long as you like. Sound fair?”

“Promise you won’t lie?”

Fang An nodded. His broad smile made Princess Xian Lie feel she was floating on air.

Inside the hall, Fang An recounted his meeting with Feng Shu—the reasons behind Feng Shu’s resignation from the palace—and his humble lifestyle.

Emperor Li Wei felt guilt and regret hearing Fang An’s tale. He felt he had failed as a ruler by not ensuring the welfare of his people.

“Very well, Fang An. As you requested, I will appoint Feng Shu as Prime Minister of the Shang Dynasty, replacing Shen Wei. He will also be entrusted with handling the welfare of my people.”