At dawn the next day, Yin Minghong changed into a set of gray-black clothes and put on a black sweatband, showing off his chest muscles. This was the typical dockworker's outfit, and paired with his tall, broad frame and a touch of dirt smeared on his face, he looked no different from the ordinary peddlers and porters on the street.
He packed his usual twin blades in a box, making them look like carpenter's tools. For a martial artist like Yin Minghong, it was unthinkable to let his weapons leave his side. What's more, he wasn't heading out on a picnic today, but to meet a vicious criminal.
Lastly, Yin Minghong tied a bit of red ribbon around his wrist. This was a sign for the meeting—Yin Yinyin hadn't insisted that Yin Minghong come in person; he could have sent a representative to deliver the message. From Yin Minghong's perspective, he'd provided as much convenience as possible.
The agreed time was 8:30, the place a landmark between the outer and inner city, Yao Bell Tower.
