Chapter Six: The Caravan

Between Pingcheng and Tongqian City lay two mountains, one of which was once said to be occupied by a band of bandits. However, before his arrival, the authorities had already dispatched troops to wipe them out. Now, only an empty hill remained, circled by a ring of dilapidated wooden fortifications.

Chen Yu did not take this route, choosing instead another path. The reason for mentioning it was that, while journeying across the hills, he encountered a caravan heading to Pingcheng as well.

According to one of the middle-aged men among them, the caravan had previously run into those same bandits. Fortunately, they had guards with them at the time, and the flash of silver blades had frightened the bandits off. After all, they were merely ordinary folk, likely farmers before proclaiming themselves kings of the mountain.

Bullying the common traveler was one thing, but when faced with people like them, the bandits could only tuck their tails and make way, not daring to provoke.

“Brother Chen, you’re bold, daring to travel alone through these wild mountains! I heard you're from Shiya County?”

“That is so. Though I wouldn’t say boldness is my strong suit. I just rely on a bit of crude martial arts, enough not to fear the sort of bullies you mention.”

“A Taoist priest?” The middle-aged man showed surprise, then laughed heartily, saying his own mother was a follower of the Way.

As for Chen Yu’s claim of ‘crude martial arts,’ he took it as modesty. A young Taoist priest traveling hundreds of miles alone, especially in these increasingly chaotic lands—if his words weren’t exaggerated, his martial prowess could hardly be called ‘crude,’ certainly not as weak as he claimed.

In truth, Chen Yu was not being humble; he genuinely felt his skills were basic, barely enough to spar with third-rate fighters in the martial world. Of course, now that he had mastered the art of sonic attacks, perhaps he could reach the lower ranks of second-rate. Still, he was far inferior to the old master in his lifetime.

The middle-aged man knew nothing of Chen Yu’s thoughts. He was inviting Chen Yu to join them on the road. Both parties were heading to Pingcheng, and traveling with the caravan would surely be more convenient and safer, allowing for mutual support.

The man was indeed affable, seeming entirely without suspicion. His square face and hearty manner easily won the trust of travelers.

Chen Yu did not refuse. He had glanced over the caravan; there were men and women, young and old, and the wagons were piled high with furs and mountain goods—not the disguise of mountain bandits.

“Haha, with the young priest along, the road feels less dangerous already!”

Seeing Chen Yu accept, the middle-aged man laughed loudly, his words full of flattery.

“You jest; it is I who should thank the caravan for their care.”

Who was looking after whom—it was a matter of perspective.

He had observed the whole group; the guards by the wagons all possessed martial strength, their temples swollen—a sign of power honed to the bone.

As for the middle-aged man beside him, although his steps seemed loose and his waist carried some fat, not the look of a seasoned fighter, Chen Yu’s keen eyes noticed the thick calluses on his hands, especially around the index finger and thumb, so thick they nearly burst with fluid.

He likely excelled in claw or finger techniques. His strength was not weak; when Chen Yu tested him mentally, he could feel a faint prickling force, vigorous blood and energy. At the very least, he had achieved the stage of internal strength, though whether he had mastered its subtleties was uncertain.

Chen Yu glanced at him, surmising he had likely mastered soft force; otherwise, he could not have survived so long as a merchant in these troubled times.

Beside him, the old fellow continued to talk incessantly, recounting the caravan’s glorious past.

He was indeed well-traveled. By his own account, his father had founded the caravan, then passed it to him. Over more than ten years, he had traveled the length and breadth of the southwestern seven provinces, especially familiar with Yun Province, Bai Province, Leyan Province, and the western province where they now stood, having connections in all four prefectures.

To such tales, Chen Yu listened with one ear and let them out the other, as they had little to do with him.

The man’s sharp eyes perhaps saw something in Chen Yu, and it seemed he hoped to recruit him, but Chen Yu had no intention of staying.

Still, it was clear the caravan had indeed traveled widely. After some conversation, Chen Yu learned much about Pingcheng and the surrounding prefectures.

...

Night fell again.

As they neared the prefectural seat, the official road became broad and smooth, unlike the cramped and ruined lanes Chen Yu had seen in Chenzhong County.

“We’ll spend the night here,” came the decision.

The group arrived about two miles off the official road, where a City God temple stood, likely built by villagers nearby. It housed not only a clay statue of the City God, but also wooden tables and offering bowls.

The bowls were empty, coated with cobwebs.

“This place was built by Tenlan Village next door. Originally, they worshipped the Hundred-Eyed Great Deity. Later, during the Martial Emperor’s reign, many wild and illicit cults were abolished, and this became a City God temple instead.”

Brother Liu Mu, as he was called, pointed to the temple, much larger and grander than most City God temples.

Chen Yu nodded. He had seen many City God temples in his memory, but this building was indeed excessive. Only after hearing Liu’s explanation did he understand—the original deity had long since been toppled.

“Alright.”

He replied and joined the others in preparing for the night, mainly gathering firewood and sprinkling powder to ward off insects.

Actually, Pingcheng was only a dozen miles away; a brisk walk would soon reach it.

But Pingcheng, unlike Tongqian, had a curfew. Once dusk arrived, the gates would be closed, and no one allowed in or out.

At this hour, rushing there would only mean spending a cold night outside the walls. After some thought, they settled on this spot to rest and recover.

After some work, all was ready. They lit a bonfire and lay down to sleep.

Outside the temple, the caravan guards patrolled in pairs, rotating through three shifts. Chen Yu slept in the right corner of the City God temple, giving the innermost spot to the women in the caravan.

Brother Liu Mu likewise blocked the threshold, wrapped in some sort of fur, snoring loudly.

Everyone slept soundly.

Until, at some moment, shouts erupted outside, waking the group. Chen Yu was the first to rise, but Liu Mu was the first to rush out the temple doors.

He grabbed his waist knife, slashing twice through the air, drawing a chilling whistle.

His face flushed red, muttering curses as he strode out.

Standing aside, Chen Yu thought Liu Mu must have been roused by his temper and was now burning with rage.

Upon stepping outside, it was just as expected: seven or eight skinny men in homespun clothes lay on the ground, groaning in pain.

Two patrolling guards supported each other, bearing wounds.

“Shouting and bawling! What’s the point?”

Clang!

The knife’s back struck a stone, causing the bandits sprawled on the earth to blanch, silencing their cries to mere whimpers.

“Young priest, these fellows came to rob us, claiming to be bandits from Jiulong Village in the next county.”

“As if they’d even bother to look at themselves in the mirror.”

When Chen Yu approached, the bandits had already been subdued, with two lying lifeless. Yet this was no cause for sympathy—since they chose this path, they had to expect such an end.

Upon questioning, it turned out none of them were from the so-called Jiulong Village, but from Fengquan, a village over the mountain.

All were farmers.

This year, after suffering at the hands of bandits and with poor harvests, something in them snapped, and they took up iron hoes and wooden clubs to try their hands at highway robbery.

To avoid robbing their own neighbors, they came to the official road where traffic was heavier, and wealthy merchants passed by.

“Eyes bigger than their stomachs—what could you hope to rob with those rusty hoes?”

Awoken, Liu Mu continued to curse, while Chen Yu, seeing the matter resolved, returned to the temple to meditate.

Sleep was out of reach, so he simply sharpened his spiritual strength a little further.