Su Yang rode forward, where two men under the bridge were dividing spoils.
The bundle had twenty thousand taels in silver notes, along with several big gold ingots and Dongzhu, making the two men's eyes gleam.
Indeed, it was a fat sheep.
On the bridge, Su Yang stood, foot resting on the railing, and said with a smile, "Finders keepers, split with me half."
The voice came from above their heads, and the two men abruptly looked up to see Su Yang.
Their expressions darkened, and they sneered coldly, "You think you can share our loot?!"
Plop.
Su Yang opened his jade fan, fanning it with carefree elegance.
"I let that fat sheep go, not just to make it easy for the two of you," Su Yang commented.
Qingyun Mountain's ancestral rule—
Don't rob the old, weak, ill, or injured.
Although Zhao Zhi wasn't old, sick, or injured, the weakness label was affixed to his forehead and couldn't be removed.
Someone like him, dealing with him would trouble my conscience.
