Even from a distance, Murong Ye could smell the thick stench of something burning.
He looked ahead, his brow deeply furrowed.
By now, the fire at the Han Family's residence had been extinguished, leaving behind a pitch-black, scorched ruin. The acrid smell was overwhelming.
A squad of soldiers stood guard outside the gate, but Shen Yanchuan was nowhere to be seen.
Murong Ye froze. 'What—what's going on?!'
'Where is Shen Yanchuan?'
His instincts screamed that something was wrong. He turned his head and ordered his servant to go and make inquiries.
A few moments later, the servant came scurrying back, a panicked look on his face.
"Young Master, it's bad! They… they said—"
Murong Ye snapped impatiently, "What is it? Spit it out!"
The servant wiped the sweat from his brow. "Young Master, they all say the Heir of Duke Dingbei left here long ago. He went to the Ye Family!"
"What!?"
Murong Ye couldn't believe it.
