A-Tong was the first to scramble out of the carriage, clutching two pieces of dry rations in his hands.
He stuffed one piece into his own mouth and handed the other to Chen Zui.
“Big Brother Chen, have some breakfast!”
Chen Zui took the rations and took a bite.
The dry ration was hard enough to chip a tooth—marching provisions specially made by Furnace-Listening Pavilion.
He chewed for a long while before finally swallowing. Turning to look at A-Tong, he saw that the little fellow had already demolished his own piece and was currently licking the crumbs off his fingers.
Half a day later.
Having passed beyond the boundary of Mirror Water Villa, the official road gradually opened up and became level.
The precipitous cliffs and dense forests on both sides of the road steadily receded, replaced by stretches of farmland and fruit orchards.
It was early autumn. The ears of rice were tinged with golden yellow, and the persimmon trees hung heavy with green-and-red fruit.
Occasionally, a few early-rising farmers could be seen toiling in the fields. They would look up at this convoy flying black iron command flags, then lower their heads again to continue their work.
“Big Brother Chen, what do you think Jinyang City is like?”
A-Tong sidled up next to Chen Zui again, his two legs dangling over the carriage sideboard and swinging back and forth.
“Is it bigger than our Furnace-Listening Pavilion?
Does Sword God Lü really never take a single step outside the city gate?
And Sword Immortal Shen—will he really duel Sword God Lü in Jinyang City?”
“Did you borrow that mouth of yours? If you ask a few fewer questions, do you get to return what’s left over?”
Chen Zui retorted mercilessly. He was beginning to understand Qi Tianchen’s suffering.
This boy was an absolute chatterbox who never rested for even a moment.
The Staff Grandmaster, Qin Tiegu, was riding beside the supply cart. Hearing their conversation, an involuntary smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
He turned his head and cupped his fists toward Chen Zui.
“Young Hero Chen, thirty li ahead lies Qingshi Town.
Shall we rest for the night in the town, or pass straight through and press on?”
Chen Zui swallowed his mouthful of dry ration and patted the crumbs from his hands.
“Senior Qin, it is best for you to make the call on these matters.
I am unfamiliar with this road; I am merely accompanying you.”
“Young Hero Chen is too polite. Before departing, Elder Qi instructed us to consult with you whenever anything arises.”
“Consulting is one thing, but you are the veteran senior in escorting goods.
Naturally, you are far more adept at these arrangements than I am.
If you say we rest, we rest; if you say we go, we go.”
Qin Tiegu nodded, a trace more warmth in the smile on his weather-beaten face.
He thought for a moment and said,
“Then let us rest for a night in Qingshi Town.
Once we pass Qingshi Town, we will be in the territory of Jinyang City.
We will take a good night’s rest and enter the city tomorrow.”
The convoy reached Qingshi Town around dusk.
Though called a town, it was really just an old street paved with bluestone slabs and several dozen households.
At the entrance of the town stood a small inn flying a faded wine banner. The innkeeper, an old man with graying hair, bustled out eagerly upon seeing a convoy arriving for lodging.
“Sirs, are you looking for a meal or lodging?”
“Lodging. Feed the horses, and prepare two tables of food.”
Qin Tiegu produced an ingot of silver and handed it over.
The old innkeeper weighed it in his palm, his face blossoming with smiles as he voiced continuous agreements and scurried off toward the kitchen.
After settling the carriages, horses, and cargo, everyone gathered around two tables in the inn’s common hall.
The food was all ordinary rustic fare.
A basin of braised pork, a dish of stir-fried greens, a pot of tofu soup, plus a large wooden bucket of coarse rice.
After traveling mountain roads for several days, such hot dishes were already a rare delicacy.
A-Tong ate until grease coated his lips, his chopsticks moving at lightning speed.
The martial artists in martial attire also ate with gusto.
Chen Zui sat by the window, cradling a bowl of tofu soup and sipping it slowly.
Outside the window lay the only street in Qingshi Town.
The shops across the street had already shuttered their doors, with only a few lanterns swaying gently in the night wind.
A-Tong swallowed a large mouthful of meat, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and leaned close to Chen Zui again.
“Big Brother Chen, Grandpa Qi said he is going to forge a spear for you.
Let me tell you a secret: the last time Grandpa Qi personally forged a weapon for someone was twelve years ago, when he forged a water-parting thorn for an island lord of the Eastern Sea.
Later, that water-parting thorn was called the ‘Dragon King Thorn’ over in the Eastern Sea.
They say it could cleave open ocean waves.
Yet even that was forged by Grandpa Qi alone.
This time, he said everyone in Furnace-Listening Pavilion would join forces to forge your spear.
This scale is countless times grander than that water-parting thorn!”
The corner of Chen Zui’s mouth curved slightly as he glanced sideways at A-Tong.
“You certainly know your Grandpa Qi’s exploits inside and out.”
“Of course!”
A-Tong puffed out his chest, his face brimming with pride.
“I grew up listening to Grandpa Qi’s stories.
Though honestly, Big Brother Chen, you are the very first person I’ve ever seen whom Grandpa Qi regards so highly.”
Chen Zui chuckled, lifting the bowl to finish the rest of the tofu soup in one gulp.
The two continued their back-and-forth chatter.
Qin Tiegu and his fellow martial brothers exchanged glances and smiled in unison.
In this small-town inn far removed from the fiery glow of Furnace-Listening Pavilion’s casting furnaces,
they suddenly felt that the road of this escort mission did not seem quite so arduous after all.
While Chen Zui joked on the surface, he was already pondering another matter in his mind.
While chatting with A-Tong just now, he had suddenly felt a faint warmth in his dantian—the purple fortune that had settled there was gently throbbing.
Purple Qi from the East, heaven-bestowed fortune.
It seemed there were yet other opportunities waiting ahead on this journey to Jinyang City.
...
On the official road.
A grand procession of horses and men advanced without stopping through the night.
Though traveling by night, they illuminated half the official road as bright as day.
Twelve riders flanked the front and rear of the convoy.
Each held aloft a pine-resin torch.
The flames crackled loudly in the night wind, sparks drifting far into the distance, flickering against the dark.
Along the sides of the convoy marched eight foot guards.
Long sabers hung at their waists, their strides in perfect unison, their breathing deep and steady.
They were clearly ranked martial arts experts.
Yet the carriage in the very center of the procession was so luxurious that it seemed entirely out of place in this desolate wilderness.
The carriage body was carved from a single solid block of golden-thread nanmu wood.
Its four corners were encased in chased white copper, and the roof was draped in three layers of curtains woven from Shu brocade.
From each of the curtains’ four corners hung a luminous pearl the size of a fist, gleaming with a faint, translucent glow under the reflection of torchlight.
The four horses pulling the carriage were pure snow-white Western Regions sweat-blood horses, without a single stray blemish in their coats.
Their horseshoes were specially crafted from dark gold; the sparks kicked up as they trod upon the gravel of the official road shone even brighter than the torches.
Inside the carriage, it was another world entirely.
Upon a small red sandalwood table rested seven or eight exquisite dishes.
Honey-glazed ham, crabmeat lion’s head meatballs, steamed shad, pine nut date paste cake...
Each dish was the craftsmanship of an imperial palace chef, served in fine porcelain bowls and plates, steam still rising from their rims.
Beside the small table, a pot of Shaoxing yellow wine was warming.
The aroma of the wine mingled with the scent of the delicacies, drifting out through the seams of the carriage curtains.
It was so enticing that even the night owls in the roadside trees tilted their heads.
Inside the carriage, a young man in his early twenties reclined on a soft brocade couch.
His left arm was wrapped around a stunningly beautiful maidservant, while his right hand held a wine cup, tilting his head back to down the liquor.
He was by no means ill-favored in appearance.
With sword-like brows, starry eyes, a high-bridged nose, and a sharply defined jawline,
it was only a pity that two dark circles of lingering hangover hung beneath his eyelids,
lending a touch of superficial debauchery to a countenance that would otherwise have been quite dashing.
The black brocade robe he wore was embroidered with four-claw python motifs in gold thread.
A jade belt was bound around his waist, and the mutton-fat white jade inlaid into its belt hook was warm and glossy as lard.
At a glance, it was clearly a tribute piece of priceless value.
This man was none other than the Third Prince of Grand Zhao, Zhao Li.
Rate on N.U.
