Chapter 149: Now That's the Flavor

The road near Nanwang City was packed with people.

Small vendors who could not be bothered competing inside the city or paying a deposit simply set up stalls along both sides of the road.

Flavors from northern and southern Yan, even specialty foods from Jin, Chu, and Qian, could all be found here.

Others sold tools, utensils, and daily necessities.

The stalls stretched outward in a lively sprawl like a temple fair, and business was surprisingly good.

Officials, soldiers, condemned men, and all manner of other people traveled along this road.

After the Yan Emperor trampled down the great clans and shifted Yan's strength southward, Yinlang Commandery suddenly accumulated an enormous influx of outsiders.

That naturally created a kind of "deformed" prosperity.

It looked bustling.

But beneath the surface, it felt like oil boiling over a raging fire.

The harder something boiled, the faster it often cooled afterward.

Of course, the common people of Yan did not feel much of that.

They simply concentrated on living their own lives.

The curtain on the great war had already risen.

Along the line of Qian's fortified outposts, troops from both sides were already biting and cutting at one another everywhere.

What remained missing was either the Jingnan Army's decisive hammer blow or a true counterstroke from the elite troops of Qian's Three Northern Garrisons.

The pride of Yan's common people probably had very deep roots.

At the very least, Zheng Fan saw no trace of wartime panic along the road.

The Great Yan Dynasty had existed for centuries.

Its survival had never been easy.

Yet it had endured.

It fought the barbarians of the northern desert.

It fought the three eastern states.

War stopped.

War resumed.

Again and again.

But Yan had never lost its spirit.

Whatever else one might say, its national confidence had been forged through war.

And Qian's army was simply too disappointing.

Along the whole line of Yinlang Commandery, numerous local military commanders—including Zheng Fan—had exhausted themselves launching raids and causing trouble to the south.

Yet not a single Qian force had dared march north.

Thus, south of the front line, everyone was jittery at the slightest movement.

To the north everything was "flowers in full bloom."

The severed heads had all been placed inside crates.

From outside, no one could tell what they contained.

Zheng Fan had no intention of beating drums and gongs, hanging some gaudy victory banner, and parading all the way into Nanwang City to manufacture some damned prestige for himself.

Perhaps the Third Prince's "fifth limb" had simply been too high-end.

After doing something like that, all the other ways of making a name for himself somehow seemed dull and flavorless.

How Xu Wenzu dealt with these heads afterward how the imperial court publicized the matter that was their business.

Zheng Fan would cooperate.

But what he valued more were the concrete benefits this military merit could put directly into his own hands.

Political power grew from the barrel of a gun.

Zheng Fan had always believed that truth.

Strong soldiers and powerful horses were the first foundation for surviving in a chaotic age.

The more deeply he understood this world, the more he realized that warfare here was not simply a game.

If you possessed enough soldiers and capable generals, then even if the enemy was some great expert, you could drown him beneath a sea of men.

You could protect yourself.

And you could kill your enemies.

Nanwang City was already ahead.

But a long line had formed at the entrance.

No one knew exactly what had happened up front.

The congestion simply stretched backward farther and farther.

When the procession stopped moving, Zheng Fan did not become impatient.

He turned toward A'Ming beside him.

"Want to go down and eat something?"

A'Ming shook his head.

He had plenty stored away at the moment.

Naturally, he had no interest in ordinary people's food.

Since A'Ming would not come, Zheng Fan dismounted alone and walked toward the roadside stalls.

Xiao Yibo immediately climbed down as well and followed to serve him.

Zheng Fan chose a wonton stall.

A young husband and wife ran it.

Business was honestly not very good.

Small wontons were a style popular in Qian's Jiangnan region.

Tiny wontons in a fresh, savory broth, like mandarin ducks playing in water, had a particular delicate charm of their own.

But Yan people preferred large, thick, solid dumplings.

They had little interest in such delicate food.

For one thing, Yan lay in the north.

Yinlang Commandery was already Yan's southern frontier, yet the Qian people still described their Three Northern Garrisons across from Yinlang as a bitterly cold land.

So unless Yan expanded its territory, the people of Yan would never truly experience the scenery and customs of Jiangnan.

Moreover, tradition had been shaped over centuries.

The men of Yan either fought barbarians in the desert or tore at the armies of Jin and Qian.

What they wanted from daily food was something that could fill their bellies in great mouthfuls.

They had little patience for delicately savoring tiny bites.

But because of his previous life, Zheng Fan quite liked small wontons.

Large wontons were fine too.

Though in that case, they had better be stuffed with shepherd's purse.

"Two bowls of small wontons."

Xiao Yibo stepped forward to order and paid first.

This was a tiny roadside business.

You did not get to eat first and pay afterward.

Otherwise, if you dropped the bowl and ran, where were they supposed to catch you?

Only when copper coins fell into the payment bowl would the wontons go into the pot.

Before long, two bowls were ready.

The line waiting to enter the city had not moved at all.

Quite a traffic jam.

Xiao Yibo carefully handed Zheng Fan the bowl and little spoon.

He did not try to ingratiate himself by blowing on the food.

Instead, he said, "Master, careful. It's hot."

Zheng Fan smiled and accepted it.

The stall had no tables or chairs.

People of true status and position would not normally eat roadside snacks like this anyway.

Nanwang City had once been known as Yan's "Little Jiangnan."

Naturally, there were plenty of high-end restaurants inside.

Anyone with money would save his stomach for those.

So Zheng Fan and Xiao Yibo simply squatted beside the stall.

Most diners along the roadside ate the same way.

Those who cared about cleanliness squatted.

Those even less particular simply sat on the ground, which was more comfortable.

Perhaps because this world had no MSG, the small wontons were not especially savory.

But they were smooth going down and still tasted quite good.

Zheng Fan ate one mouthful at a time.

Beside him, Xiao Yibo slurped away as well.

To Xiao Yibo, what he ate was not important.

Eating with the leader was what mattered.

They had only finished half a bowl when a second group of customers arrived.

One was an old man in a coarse cloth robe, constantly sniffling from the cold.

The other was a swordsman wrapped tightly in padded clothing, a sword at his side.

The swordsman looked a little over forty.

His face was covered in dark sores, though whether they came from the cold or had always been there was impossible to tell.

The old man held a long banner beneath his left arm.

The cold wind flipped up one corner of the hanging cloth, exposing the character:

"Divination."

"Ten copper coins per bowl, gentlemen."

The woman waited to receive the money.

The man waited to put the wontons in the pot.

Until the woman received payment, the man's wontons would never enter the water.

The old man looked toward the down-and-out swordsman beside him.

The swordsman raised his gaze to the sky.

He looked as though he had suddenly discovered that today's heavens were exceptionally beautiful.

The old man rubbed his hands together awkwardly.

"Would you accept a fortune reading in exchange for a meal?"

The woman immediately shook her head.

The man put the handful of wontons he had been holding back down.

"Business has been poor. We really can't afford that."

It was an honest answer.

If business were good, giving someone a bowl of wontons would not matter.

Listening to a fortune reading could count as entertainment.

But business was miserable now.

They had neither the leisure nor the spare money.

The old man licked his lips.

He clearly craved those small wontons badly.

The older people became, the more they sometimes resembled children again.

Greedy for food.

Even so, the old man still cared somewhat about saving face.

He was too embarrassed to roll around on the ground throwing a tantrum like a spoiled brat.

The down-and-out swordsman patted his bundle.

"We still have dry rations."

The old man had been fine before hearing those words.

The moment he heard "dry rations," his mouth drooped and tears began welling in his eyes.

He looked terribly aggrieved.

"Dry rations, dry rations! You make your father gnaw on those cold, hard things every day!

"What kind of son treats his father like that?"

Hearing this, Zheng Fan looked toward Xiao Yibo.

Xiao Yibo gave an honest, bashful smile.

The down-and-out swordsman looked somewhat melancholy.

The old man remained aggrieved.

The young couple running the wonton stall simply stood there watching.

Business was poor anyway.

There was no rush.

Xiao Yibo held his bowl and spoon in his left hand.

With his right, he reached into his pocket, took out a small piece of silver, and tossed it toward the stall.

"Cook some for them."

"Oh! All right!"

The wontons went into the pot and began tumbling through the boiling broth.

The down-and-out swordsman glanced toward Zheng Fan and Xiao Yibo squatting nearby.

Then he moved his gaze away.

The old man merely stared eagerly at the pot, waiting for the wontons to finish.

He was in no hurry to thank the great philanthropist Xiao for buying his meal.

"Done, done! Take them out. They'll overcook!"

The old man urged them.

The husband nodded and scooped out the wontons.

He scattered on the rather sparse seasonings.

The old man took the bowl.

After hesitating for a moment, he still squatted beside Xiao Yibo.

The down-and-out swordsman accepted his own bowl as well, but squatted at the other end of the stall.

Apparently he was too withdrawn to enjoy joining the crowd.

The old man ate several wontons in quick succession.

Then he drank a few mouthfuls of broth.

He let out a long breath, satisfaction spreading over his face.

Zheng Fan concentrated on eating his own wontons and ignored everything around him.

Perhaps because he had seen too many stories and dramas in his previous life, this sort of pair always gave him the impression of "hidden experts beyond the world."

The more shabby they looked the more miserable they seemed the more likely they were to be "masters."

Shatuo Queshi had already proven that principle.

But seeing the small wontons in the other man's hands, Zheng Fan had no intention of testing anything right now.

Whether you were genuinely a drifting pauper or truly some hidden expert you eat yours.

I'll eat mine.

Once we're done, we'll slap the dust from our asses and go handle our own business.

The old man looked at Xiao Yibo.

"You want your fortune told?"

Xiao Yibo shook his head.

"No."

"Sigh. You really don't need it.

"You have a prosperous fate, but you don't prosper your kin."

In other words, you bring misfortune to your family.

The hand holding Xiao Yibo's wonton bowl trembled slightly.

He said nothing.

After all, he had once commanded the Cart Gang.

It might have been a tiny gang beneath the notice of truly powerful men, but he had still dealt with all kinds of people.

Those who wandered the jianghu relying on nothing but their mouths were best not at fortune-telling but at saying the right words to the right person.

If you refused to engage, they had nothing to work with.

Yet the old man did not seem willing to give up.

He leaned forward slightly, looked toward Zheng Fan, and put on a flattering expression.

"This gentleman is a noble person.

"Indescribably noble."

Zheng Fan smiled.

He blew on his broth as he drank.

Without Zheng Fan's permission, Xiao Yibo naturally would not guide the conversation toward his Master.

So he continued eating his wontons.

The old man quietly ate another half bowl.

He wiped his mouth.

Then he spoke again.

"This noble gentleman carries rather heavy blood qi.

"That is both good and bad."

Zheng Fan had gone out killing people only the night before.

Even after bathing, could the scent of blood on his body truly disappear so easily?

Still, he showed no reaction.

Too bad the Blind Man was unconscious.

If Zheng Fan had brought the Blind Man along today, first, Bei would definitely have come down to eat wontons with him.

Second he could have matched words with this old man.

They were in the same line of work.

There would be no shortage of nonsense for them to trade.

"The noble gentleman's road ahead will naturally be broad and open.

"You need only hold fast to your original heart.

"When the pond water grows muddy, remain a clear-water fish.

"Then you may establish yourself in this world."

That counted as an auspicious phrase, right?

A universal line that fit nearly anyone.

Zheng Fan set down his bowl and cupped his hands toward the old man.

"I've received your instruction."

"Does the noble gentleman truly have nothing he'd like this old man to calculate?"

"Didn't you already calculate just now?" Zheng Fan asked.

"That didn't count."

Zheng Fan nodded.

"There's nothing I want calculated."

Wealth?

He was not asking for wealth.

Talent?

There were seven at home.

Official career?

He was already walking that road.

And inside the crates in the convoy ahead were plenty of stepping stones for that path.

Romance?

With the Fourth Lady around, Zheng Fan was quite satisfied.

That was not a lie.

There were two reasons Zheng Fan never touched the delicate young maids at home.

First, flower buds that young were not to his taste.

Second, with the Fourth Lady helping him in that regard, he was genuinely thoroughly satisfied.

It was not because he feared what the Fourth Lady's comic-book persona might do if he stole a bite elsewhere.

He had simply lived twice.

He had long since lost most of his obsession with love and romance.

Perhaps one day some Princess or noble lady might move him.

But that would probably be because conquering a woman of such lofty status could satisfy a man's desire for conquest.

On that point, Zheng Fan had noticed his mentality gradually moving closer to those of the Blind Man, A'Ming, and the others.

Those Demon Kings seemed almost uniformly uninterested in women.

"There's nothing worth calculating," Zheng Fan answered.

In this life, at least for now, he simply wanted to figure out how to have fun.

As for what to play and how to play it he did not need anyone to teach him.

The process of exploring was itself part of the game.

The old man looked somewhat regretful.

Apparently disappointed that he could not open for business and earn a little something.

In the end, he could only ask, "Where is the noble gentleman from?"

"Old sir, that's a strange question.

"This is the State of Yan.

"Naturally, I'm a man of Yan."

"No, no.

"Young master, you are not a man of Yan.

"Young master— you are a man from Heaven."

A flicker of light passed through Zheng Fan's eyes.

Xiao Yibo, who had no idea what the old man meant, laughed and cursed, "You old geezer, just eat your wontons in peace.

"Do you really need to flatter him that blindly?"

Flattering Zheng Fan that was Xiao Yibo's job.

The old man nodded.

"If a whole basket of flattery can buy one bowl of wontons, then it's worth it."

Zheng Fan handed his bowl to Xiao Yibo.

Xiao Yibo took it back to the stall.

No third wave of customers had arrived.

Yet the young couple were cooking another batch of wontons.

Now they each held a bowl and squatted beside the road like their customers.

The husband fed the wife one.

The wife fed the husband one.

Watching the affectionate scene, Xiao Yibo could not help feeling somewhat envious.

A poor, simple life yet husband and wife could hold hands and depend on one another.

That was not necessarily a bad fate.

Zheng Fan noticed the scene as well.

But what he saw was very different from Xiao Yibo.

In Zheng Fan's eyes—

Mm.

Both husband and wife were eating their own wontons.

That proved there was nothing wrong with the food.

Safe to eat.

That instinctive line of thinking had probably been trained into him by the endless food-safety scandals in his previous life.

The traffic jam seemed to loosen slightly.

The line began moving forward.

Xiao Yibo went back to the convoy to arrange the carts.

He told his men to stop resting and prepare to enter the city.

Zheng Fan was about to stand and return to the convoy when the old man suddenly spoke.

"Noble gentleman, no hurry.

"The front has only just begun moving.

"In this life, this old man believes most strongly that every cause should have its effect.

"I never owe anyone a favor."

"Then what are you planning?"

"Since the noble gentleman doesn't want a fortune told, if there's anything you wish to know, this old man can ramble about it with you."

Zheng Fan genuinely stayed.

He squatted down again.

"I've heard that powerful officials and nobles in Qian, Jin, and Chu all enjoy keeping learned retainers around them.

"Isn't that basically what they're used for?"

The old man nodded.

"Indeed."

Powerful nobles feared loneliness.

They also feared lacking refinement.

So they specifically kept cultured retainers around to chat with them.

In truth, it was all bragging.

They simply competed over who could brag more elegantly, more tastefully, and with greater style.

"I'm a rough man.

"You already said my blood qi is strong, so I assume you've guessed what line of work I'm in?"

Zheng Fan had been in the army for quite some time.

No matter how lazily he usually acted as a hands-off commander, he had still seen battle, seen blood, and charged city gates.

It was entirely normal for someone to recognize him as a military man.

If the old man could not even see that much, then he truly had lived all those years for nothing.

"You ask.

"This old man will answer.

"If I know it, I'll tell you.

"I won't hide anything."

"All because of one bowl of wontons?"

"The wontons aren't valuable.

"But the feeling inside the wontons is valuable.

"Everything beneath Heaven becomes valuable once emotion clings to it.

"Like the Emperor of Chu's paintings.

"The Emperor of Jin's sword.

"The Yan Emperor's saber.

"The Qian Emperor's brush.

"Those are naturally priceless treasures.

"These wontons contain this old man's homesickness.

"So naturally, their price is high."

"Makes sense.

"Then let me ask.

"How many troops has Qian sent north this time?"

Zheng Fan truly dared to ask.

And the old man truly dared to answer.

"The Western Army has one hundred fifty thousand.

"They should already have reached Mianzhou City yesterday.

"One hundred thousand Imperial Guards are traveling by canal.

"They were delayed when setting out and actually fell behind the Western Army, but they should probably arrive today.

"The Wolf Native Troops naturally follow behind the Western Army.

"The Western Army controls and watches them.

"Fifty thousand troops of the Zu Clan still need to come from the eastern coast, so they will require some time.

"But the neighboring commanderies around the Three Frontiers have already mobilized no fewer than one hundred thousand auxiliary troops, and those forces began moving long ago."

"So how many soldiers will Qian gather along the Three Frontiers?"

"One hundred fifty thousand Western Army.

"Fifty thousand Wolf Native Troops, though that number must be discounted somewhat.

"More than two hundred thousand frontier garrison troops.

"Fifty thousand Zu Clan troops.

"One hundred thousand auxiliaries from neighboring commanderies.

"And one hundred thousand Imperial Guards.

"That comes to a full army of six hundred fifty thousand!"

Six hundred fifty thousand troops arrayed along Qian's Three Frontiers.

That was an extraordinarily lavish deployment.

Zheng Fan asked again, "Then do you know how many troops my Great Yan can send south?"

"Tch, tch.

"Noble gentleman, you're not a man of Yan."

"But I'm even less likely to be a man of Qian."

"Perhaps the noble gentleman simply hasn't seen the splendor of Shangjing or the scenery of Jiangnan."

"Believe me.

"I have seen them.

"I've felt them too.

"But I... don't especially like them."

It was not only Zheng Fan.

The Demon Kings under him had all considered the same question before.

What if, instead of beginning in Tiger Head City in Yan, they had awakened in Qian?

Would that have been better?

The conclusion was still—

Yan was more comfortable.

Freer.

More exhilarating.

Putting all that aside—

Zheng Fan now had the bond of having collected corpses for Marquis of Jingnan Tian Wujing.

He had a relationship with Li Liangting based on one roasted lamb leg.

With Yan Emperor Ji Runhao he had the friendship of cutting off the Emperor's son's future descendants.

Even Eunuch Wei had once hoped Zheng Fan might enter the palace and succeed him.

No matter how one counted it, Zheng Fan had every reason to feel closer to Yan.

"Is that so?"

A trace of disappointment entered the old man's eyes.

"You still haven't answered me."

"How many soldiers can the Great Yan send south?

"Doesn't the noble gentleman already know?"

"Sometimes outsiders can see one's own household more clearly."

"That is reasonable.

"Then this old man will calculate it for you.

"Along the line of Yinlang Commandery there are more than a dozen commanders of varying size.

"All their forces combined probably amount to forty or fifty thousand, though their quality varies greatly.

"The Jingnan Army has fifty thousand men, plus another fifty thousand in the Rear Camp.

"Call it one hundred thousand.

"The Imperial Guards of Yanjing must protect Yan's own territory, while also guarding against threats from Jin.

"In the desert, the Great Yan must leave at least one hundred thousand Zhenbei Army iron cavalry to watch the barbarians.

"Calculate everything, and what the Great Yan can immediately throw southward is about two hundred thousand Zhenbei Army cavalry, one hundred thousand Jingnan Army, and several tens of thousands of miscellaneous forces.

"Altogether— a little over three hundred thousand."

"By that count, the sides are fairly balanced."

"Qian has more men.

"But the Great Yan's army is stronger.

"Especially those two hundred thousand Zhenbei Army cavalry.

"They are like a saber sharpened in the desert for a hundred years.

"Only today is it finally being drawn toward the south.

"However..."

"However what?"

"The Great Yan may be fierce.

"But the Great Qian is vast and rich.

"Don't be fooled by how many troops are gathered along the Three Frontiers now.

"Once the war truly opens completely, no matter how ferocious Yan's iron cavalry may be— can cavalry break through walls of iron and cities of stone?"

Zheng Fan said nothing.

Siege warfare and field warfare were entirely different concepts.

Especially when the defenders had ample manpower.

Zheng Fan had attacked Mianzhou City twice.

Neither time had he ever seriously considered conducting a proper siege.

Because he could not afford the losses.

"If Yan's army marches south, how many laborers must be mobilized?

"Has the noble gentleman ever calculated that account?"

Zheng Fan remained silent.

"Most importantly, with one imperial edict from the Great Qian Emperor, troops and righteous volunteers from throughout the realm can rapidly form armies.

"Never mind reinforcements already on the road.

"Raising another seven or eight hundred thousand troops and sending them north would not be difficult."

One had to remember that for years Qian had supposedly maintained eight hundred thousand troops along the Three Frontiers and another eight hundred thousand Imperial Guards.

The payrolls of both formations were severely inflated with nonexistent men.

Even so, the fact remained that the Qian court possessed the fiscal capacity to support armies totaling 1.6 million on paper.

Qian was vast and wealthy.

That was not merely rhetoric.

"Newly raised armies are useless," Zheng Fan said.

"Fight a few battles.

"Let them see blood.

"Use veterans to lead recruits.

"Then they'll become soldiers.

"More importantly, Yan's march south will certainly be unable to break through Qian's Three Frontiers quickly.

"Qian can use that time to slowly grind away its own softness, reorganize its armies, and rebuild military preparedness.

"As for the Yan Emperor— he appears to have trampled down the great clans and swept away the miasma.

"But in doing so, he has ultimately placed himself in an extremely dangerous position.

"Since ancient times, every dynasty has relied upon something.

"The barbarians rely on the Royal Court and the Left and Right Wise Kings.

"Chu relies on its nobility.

"Jin relies on imperial kinsmen and great clans.

"The Great Qian rules the realm through scholar-officials.

"A state's foundation is like piled earth.

"Layer after layer.

"Level after level.

"Only at the very top sits the imperial house.

"Everything has two sides.

"What appears to be a parasite feeding upon the state can also be called one of the pillars supporting it.

"Yan cannot afford a long war.

"Nor can it sustain one.

"And all of this assumes Jin, Chu, and the barbarians do nothing."

Translated into modern thinking, the old man's argument was roughly this:

After a regime seized the realm, if it wanted to rule securely, it had to draw some social class into sharing the benefits.

A vested-interest class was certainly a parasite upon the state, sucking its blood.

But at the same time, that class possessed an instinctive need to preserve the regime that protected its own interests.

When the Yan Emperor and Marquis of Zhenbei had staged their conflict earlier, Yan's great clans had only wanted the two Marquises ennobled as Princes.

They had never considered dragging the Ji Clan down from the Dragon Throne.

Had the Zhenbei Army truly attempted to replace the imperial house, the great clans would still have stood on the Emperor's side.

But the Yan Emperor had swept those clans away directly.

That was certainly beneficial to the state in one sense.

Yet for the ruler's own security, it left him with fewer buffers.

What if one day Li Liangting died?

Or Ji Runhao?

Or the Marquis of Jingnan?

Then problems would naturally emerge.

Or what if dissenting voices appeared within the Zhenbei Army itself, a military bloc with its own independent structure?

Without the great clans mediating and blocking pressures in the middle, any slight disturbance could directly threaten the Ji Clan's position as rulers.

"Heh heh."

"The noble gentleman doesn't believe me?"

"Our asses aren't sitting on the same side."

"That is a truly exquisite way to put it."

"Hahaha.

"Then I'm curious.

"Old sir, you should be a man of Qian.

"Why have you come north?"

"Sigh.

"Who told this old man to be a man of Qian?"

"Then what guidance does the old gentleman have for me?"

"The Great Dao faces Heaven.

"Each person walks his own side.

"The noble gentleman's road is naturally broad.

"You already have your own judgment in your heart.

"One who does not seek divination already has a road beneath his feet."

"I've received your instruction."

"It's all empty boasting.

"Nothing that can truly be relied upon."

"My convoy is moving.

"Farewell."

"Until we meet again, noble gentleman."

Zheng Fan rose.

This time he truly left.

He caught up with the wagon train and mounted his horse.

A'Ming turned his head.

He held a waterskin in one hand.

A trace of red stained the corner of his mouth like rouge.

"Something wrong?"

Zheng Fan said nothing.

He was merely thinking that once they entered the city, he should probably inform the Secret Intelligence Department that Qian spies had infiltrated.

Whether that warning would be useful probably not.

When Zheng Fan looked back again, sure enough, the old fortune-teller and the down-and-out swordsman were already gone.

"A'Ming."

"Mm?"

"Do you think there might be people in this world who can see what we really are?"

"Master means—someone who can see that we don't belong to this world?"

Zheng Fan nodded.

"If they see it, they see it."

"That relaxed?"

"Thinking too much is useless."

"True.

"Thinking too much is useless.

"But we should still build up our foundation faster.

"If I had three hundred thousand iron cavalry under my hand, then even if I were a Martian, I doubt anyone would dare make a damned peep about it."

"Mm. Master is wise."

Zheng Fan reached out.

Quite naturally, he wiped the drop of red "rouge" from the corner of A'Ming's mouth.

A'Ming froze.

His brow furrowed slightly.

Zheng Fan looked at the red on his fingertip.

Then wiped it off on the hair of his warhorse.

"You should ration that stuff.

"Don't drink it all in one go and end up starving again."

"There are several large barrels stored in the ice cellar beneath the fortress."

"That works too?"

"Of course."

"Actually, what I just did was kind of disgusting."

"Master knows that too?"

"But you looked so calm that I deliberately wanted to disgust you a little."

"Master... is wise."

...

"I thought you would kill him."

Among the crowd, the down-and-out swordsman spoke.

The old man shook his head.

"I truly did want to kill him."

"Because the crates in that convoy were all filled with human heads?"

The old man shook his head again.

"Because I cannot see through him.

"That young man's fortune is impossible to grasp."

"Then why not kill him?

"He's a man of Yan."

"Can't kill him.

"Can't kill him.

"That young man has not yet truly become a force.

"Even if he becomes one someday, it's still difficult to say whether that will be a blessing or a disaster.

"In earlier years, I might have wanted to place a few pieces on the board, merely as entertainment.

"But not now.

"This breath of mine has not yet reached the moment when it should be released.

"Once it is released, it runs for a thousand li.

"To open the breach on that boy— this old man feels it would be a poor bargain."

"According to you qi refiners, whenever a great age of chaos begins, monsters and prodigies inevitably emerge.

"Does he count as one?"

"He does."

"That monster is in Yan."

"And you're certain that's a blessing for Yan?"

"I can feel that you're deceiving yourself a little."

"Forget it. Forget it.

"One generation handles the affairs of its own generation.

"You and I are men of Qian.

"With this flesh and blood and this identity, we naturally bear a share of responsibility.

"As for what comes afterward— let it come.

"You are right.

"A chaotic age is about to begin.

"Monsters and prodigies will emerge one after another.

"But how many of them will ultimately transform into dragons?

"No one yet knows."

"A pity.

"My sword is the same as your breath."

"Indeed.

"This old man's breath is too deep and dense to release casually.

"Your sword is too sharp.

"Once it pierces one man, it shatters."

"Are we not leaving?"

"Wait a little longer.

"Wait a little longer.

"Those wontons just now really were delicious.

"They tasted like home."

"Another bowl?

"The little lackey beside that brat paid enough silver for two more."

"One bowl was enough.

"I only wanted a taste of memory.

"Besides— even if I wanted another bowl, I couldn't eat it now."

The old man and the down-and-out swordsman both looked toward the wonton stall.

More than a dozen people suddenly emerged from the crowd.

One wore black.

The rest were dressed like ordinary peddlers and laborers.

They directly surrounded the stall.

To prevent panic from spreading through the crowd, the man in black shouted, "The Great Yan Secret Intelligence Department is apprehending spies from the State of Qian!

"Uninvolved persons, stand back!"

The husband and wife who ran the wonton stall were still squatting there.

They still held their bowls.

Faced with the Secret Intelligence Department agents surrounding them, they showed not the slightest fear.

Only calm acceptance.

The old man sighed.

"I told you.

"Today's wontons really did taste like home."

The down-and-out swordsman said nothing.

The old man spoke again.

"Everyone has his own road.

"And because everyone bears an identity, everyone also has his own fate.

"Tell me.

"From the day I found you until now— have you ever regretted it?"

"There's nothing worth regretting.

"Everyone simply has his own fate."

"Yes.

"Everyone has his own fate.

"I don't like the Zhao Clan."

"Neither do I."

"But I'm a man of Qian.

"It doesn't make sense for them to be willing to die for the Great Qian while the two of us continue drifting above the world, carefree and unrestrained.

"That makes no sense.

"Truly— it makes no sense."

"It doesn't."

Before the Secret Intelligence Department agents could step forward to arrest them the husband and wife looked at one another and smiled.

Black blood began flowing from their eyes, ears, mouths, and noses.

All life vanished from their bodies.

Clearly, they had poisoned the wontons they had cooked for themselves.

Perhaps they were Silver-Armored Guard agents who had been embedded in Yan for many years.

But recently, they may have realized something had gone wrong with their lines of contact.

So they had already prepared themselves for this fate.

Blood dripped into the bowls of wontons.

It spread slowly through the clear broth.

Crimson bloomed through the soup.

From a distance, the old man drew in a deep breath.

Haaah...

Now that's the flavor.

(End of Chapter)