"O-over… over there," the skinny man's voice trembled as he pointed toward the center of the stronghold. "The wooden huts near the chieftain's courtyard… the hostages are usually kept there… As for which one specifically, I… I don't know for sure. I only know it's one of the three innermost rooms."
Yang Jing glanced in the direction he was pointing and pressed, "Are you sure it's one of those three rooms?"
"Y-yes, I'm sure," the skinny man nodded hastily. "Just two days ago, I saw someone delivering water over there…"
Before he could finish, he felt the sharp pain in his neck intensify. A warm liquid gushed out, and his consciousness quickly faded.
With a flick of his wrist, Yang Jing had cleanly slit the man's throat. He dragged the body into a nearby pile of junk and covered it up.
Yang Jing never showed mercy to these blood-soaked bandits.
After disposing of the body, Yang Jing slipped out again, moving toward the center of the stronghold as the skinny man had indicated.
