They knocked on the gate of the courtyard, but there was no response.
"Is he not home?"
"No, he should be at home at this time," Miao Qingfeng replied.
"Who is it?" A voice came from a room. It sounded stuffy.
"It is I, Qingfeng."
"Wait a moment." The voice in the room sounded out again.
After they had waited for a while, they heard footsteps.
With a creak, the door opened. The person who opened the door was a tall and sturdy man. He had thick eyebrows and a dark face. He looked at Yang Guanfeng and the others with a cold gaze.
"Qingshan, what are you so busy with, opening the door after such a long time?"
"What can I do for you?" Miao Qingshan asked without answering.
"Ah..." Yang Guanfeng was just about to speak when Miao Qingfeng, who was beside him, tugged him.
"It's like this, Brother Qingshan, something has happened in the stockade today. A man has died."
