But it was better than nothing.
For a long time now, his days were spent either killing people or on his way to kill people.
The only two times he ever felt alive were when he turned in a mission for credit, and... when he took stock of his spoils.
Regardless.
These were all his.
The bandit's living quarters were as squalid as ever. Even the chieftain's room was merely a bit larger, the bedding a little newer.
On the table lay some half-eaten leftovers, now cold.
And a fair-skinned woman, already dead from poison.
This woman was the Lady of the Stronghold.
She had also been the medium he'd used to poison the chieftain. Otherwise, facing a Bone Forging Stage expert at peak strength while being ganged up on by others, Yang Mo would have certainly been severely injured.
It was all thanks to this woman.
Yang Mo recalled how pitiful she had seemed when she first begged for his help. He had even been conflicted about whether he should kill her.
However...
