Such simple herb shops without spiritual herbs were rarely seen on Blue Star nowadays. Since the spiritual energy revival, vegetation had evolved the fastest; traditional Chinese medicinal herbs of any age had mostly evolved into spirit herbs. After several hundred years, purely non-spiritual herbal medicines were nearly extinct.
Jiang Zhaoye walked in with the curiosity of viewing museum specimens, looking at the herb baskets with keen interest.
This shop was not small in scale, occupying three storefronts on the city's most bustling market street, and its decor and layout were somewhat refined.
The shopkeeper looked up and glanced at Jiang Zhaoye, who was examining the herbs. Seeing his back looked tidy and respectable, his clothes made of fine linen that wasn't cheap, and that he properly refrained from touching the herbs, the shopkeeper shifted his gaze and resumed chatting warmly with a few familiar merchants in the shop: "Lately, there are more and more refugees outside the city. I heard there's disaster in the north again..."
A few neatly dressed traveling merchants exchanged thoughts, chatting and laughing freely. Gradually, someone lowered their voice to say, "The immortal sects recruiting disciples... I wonder if they'll come to Qingyang this year..."
Jiang Zhaoye pricked up his ears, his focus no longer on the shop's herbs. In his earpiece, Xiao Ling continuously recorded, analyzed, and organized, translating those unfamiliar language sentences for him one by one.
The sun gradually sloped westward, the shadows on the street stretching longer and longer.
After leaving the herb shop, Jiang Zhaoye wandered around more than half the city alone, roughly getting a handle on its layout. The regional information collected by Xiao Ling grew increasingly plentiful as well.
Languages, maps, intelligence... Like a whale gulping water, she continuously swallowed and absorbed, efficiently organizing and converting it.
As darkness gradually set in with only a sliver of light remaining, under Xiao Ling's reminder, Jiang Zhaoye walked into an inn in the east of the city.
In a place like Ju City, a curfew existed. In Jiang Zhaoye's unregistered status—having neither official documents nor a waist tally—wandering outside after dark posed too high a risk. If caught by patrolling soldiers, he might be executed on the spot.
This White Foal Inn was filtered out by Xiao Ling from her collected information: no documents required, decent hygiene, established locally for many years, possessed a good reputation, was quite honorable, and wasn't a shady establishment.
This inn didn't serve food and only provided lodging. When Jiang Zhaoye entered, dim yellow lanterns swayed under the eaves, and there were no other guests, giving it a somewhat quiet and chilly feel.
Behind the counter in the front hall sat a middle-aged man wearing a fur hat, currently looking down and clicking an abacus.
Hearing footsteps, he raised his head unhurriedly, sizing up the visitor from top to bottom: "Staying the night?"
As he asked, a pair of cold gray eyes observed this rare new guest for this time of day.
The visitor wore a bamboo hat with a veil falling down, concealing his features. He wore a neat outfit of fine black linen of impressive texture, his collar slightly open to reveal the edge of a snow-white inner garment beneath, pristine like snow atop an ink-painted mountain. His forearms wore dark brown leather armguards, a waist belt cinched tight, his feet clad in black vintage leather boots, a medium-sized bundle slung behind his back, and a sheathed longsword cradled in his arms. His back was straight, his frame sleek, yet his overall demeanor was exceedingly pure and noble. One could still discern a hint of youthfulness in his figure; he was likely a young boy of no great age.
The shopkeeper's scrutinizing gaze softened slightly.
At a glance, he looked like a greenhorn—his clothes didn't even have a speck of mud. The shopkeeper estimated he was a young master from some family with dreams of the jianghu who had snuck out from home before even leaving the city. Best to turn a blind eye and let him be.
Jiang Zhaoye didn't know the old hand across from him had almost completely read him like an open book at first sight. He nodded, pulled out a sizable piece of broken silver from his bosom, set it on the counter, and said in a stiff tone, "One... premium room."
The shopkeeper's hand paused. Hearing this accent that wasn't quite local, he looked at the silver, then at him, but ultimately refrained from asking more. He looked down, flipped through the registry, wrote a few strokes, then took down a key from the wall and handed it over: "Room Heaven-3, second floor, turn left to the end. Handle your own meals; hot water is supplied morning and evening."
Jiang Zhaoye took the key, nodded, turned, and went upstairs.
Following the shopkeeper's directions translated by Xiao Ling, he found the door marked Heaven-3. Exhaling a breath, he pushed open the solid wooden door painted with tung oil. Worthy of a top-tier room, it was quite large, neatly arranged, and carried a bit of local flavor and ancient charm.
Jiang Zhaoye closed the door and strolled around like a tourist: a main room, two small side compartments set off by carved door frames, a study, and a bathroom—all fully equipped. Pushing open the window, he could even see the street view outside.
Unfastening his straw hat and setting it on the table, he walked over to the window, peeked outside, and checked his surroundings. Only after confirming no one was trailing him did he creep over to the wardrobe.
Opening the doors, Jiang Zhaoye sized up this huge wardrobe, bent down, and crawled inside. Turning around to close the doors tight, he sat inside the spacious wardrobe, tentatively testing his limbs, and then nodded with a fair bit of satisfaction.
Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and began connecting to Little White Cicada, mobilizing the psionic energy in his body to slowly imprint a coordinate mark onto the wardrobe's floorboard beneath him—a mark only he could perceive.
Having completed all this, Jiang Zhaoye opened the wardrobe doors and crawled out. Taking off the black iron mask he had worn all day, he leaned against the wardrobe doors and let out a long sigh.
He rolled up his right forearm guard, revealing the watch hidden beneath his sleeve. "Xiao Ling, display the child's... well, the life detector's location."
"Alright, displaying it for you now," Xiao Ling responded obediently, her tone sweet.
The screen lit up with a flash, and that small red light dot was still blinking toward the east side of the city, its location almost unchanged.
The vital signs of the biological entity carrying the detector were quite good, much stronger than when he had last seen the child.
This was also why Jiang Zhaoye hadn't gone looking for the child immediately earlier.
Since survival wasn't an issue for now, there was no need to rush so much.
The sky had already darkened. Considering the local curfew rules, Jiang Zhaoye planned to rest for the night first and go find the child tomorrow at daybreak.
...
At dawn the next day, Jiang Zhaoye woke up on the large bed at the inn.
With the wig and clothes carelessly tossed into the corner of the bed, he wore his white inner garment loosely. Rolling around on the bed, he stretched his arms and kicked his legs, loosening his muscles and bones.
He really couldn't get used to sleeping on a bed in a place like this. Without the nourishment of spiritual energy like the cold jade bed provided, coupled with being alone in an unfamiliar territory, he hadn't fallen asleep until midnight. Right now, his entire body was stiff, and his back ached.
Noisy sounds came from outside the window. Street vendors had already begun setting up their stalls; hawking, haggling, and the sound of wheels rolling over stone paths blended together, carrying a flavor of ancient local culture as they surged through the thin window paper.
There's really no soundproofing to speak of... The young man sat up, pretending to complain in his heart. The spatial button hanging from a black cord around his neck slipped out from his snow-white collar, dangling a few times in the chilly air. Jiang Zhaoye rubbed his eyes and raised his arm to look at his watch.
In an unfamiliar inn, he hadn't dared leave his watch and spatial button—the two most crucial items—by his pillow like he did at home.
Enduring the discomfort, he had worn them properly all night.
On the screen, the small red light dot was still toward the east side of the city. Its position had shifted slightly, but it remained within the area where it had been active all along.
Little Jiang put his mind at ease, and only then did he get out of bed to dress.
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