Li Yan remained expressionless, his finger silently moving from the man's eyelid to the spot above his philtrum, before he heavily sighed and turned around.
"What's the matter, Brother Deng."
Deng Tianxiong, a stout man like an iron tower, still exuded a strong sense of oppression despite his injuries, standing like a javelin.
"We've caught a spy, possibly one of the Japanese pirates."
"If he's a Japanese pirate, just kill him. There's no need to tell me."
Li Yan smiled faintly.
"Spare him! Spare him beneath your sword!"
Li Yan shifted his gaze; the speaker was a man in a light blue cloth shirt and a round-bottomed silk hat, about thirty years old, so frail he looked like he could be blown over by a gust of wind.
He was brought over stumbling, supported by two Ming soldiers.
