Chapter Twenty-Two: They're Calling Bandits Names, Not Me

A gold shop must have at least ten or so pounds of gold, if not more. That could fill several small chests. No, no—what matters most is that one’s sense of goodness cannot be lost.

Jiang Huan withdrew her foot from the threshold and leaned against the wall, deep in thought. If she wanted to take the gold, the first problem she’d have to solve was the five men ahead. They all wore thick clothing; from their ankles and calves, she could tell that they weren’t particularly burly, but they were all in their prime, and her own skill in a fight was only enough to protect herself. The one with the gun made things especially tricky.

Wait—she wasn’t alone, was she? Jiang Huan glanced back at the alley behind her. It was a dead end. An idea struck her. She pulled out a string of firecrackers from her hidden space, along with a prop that could mimic a rooster crowing for hundreds of hours.

First, she lit the firecrackers and tossed them in. The sudden explosions sent everyone in the alley, a dozen people or so, leaping in fright. Before they could react, the man with the gun cried out and fell to the ground.

“Boss!”

Whoosh—

A crossbow bolt whistled through the air. The man raised his gun and fired—bang!—but at that moment, the shrill crowing of a rooster resounded.

“Ah—” As the rooster’s call echoed, another man, armed with a stick, clutched his thigh and collapsed. Looking closely, there was a crossbow bolt embedded in his leg—barbed, impossible to pull out, the pain so intense that he dr