Zhao Changhe pondered for a long time before deciding to go to Yellow Sand Market.
This merchant caravan, if it had just departed from the targeted tribes, could potentially provide information about the missing squad, and it was more likely to yield results than visiting the heavily guarded tribal settlement.
From Cui Yuanyong’s and others’ conversations, Yellow Sand Market appeared to be the trade hub of various tribes. If there was a central point in the grasslands, this was it. Zhao Changhe also felt that his luck was strange; since he had already deviated north, he might as well continue northward, as his intuition told him it would be more advantageous.
As for these people... Zhao Changhe’s eyes grew cold as he stared at the rear of their group, thinking to himself that even if he accomplished nothing else on this excursion, killing these individuals would be a great achievement. Or perhaps he could gather undeniable proof and submit it to Tang Wanju? He wasn’t sure what she could do with it.
He thought for a while, putting some substance on his face to cover the scars, and transformed into a man with a yellow face.
He looked down at his horse; he had been rushing to Yanmen these days and hadn’t taken good care of it, its once jet-black mane now greyish, and its hooves, once white, now indistinct and naturally camouflaged.
He intentionally waited a bit longer to put more distance between himself and the merchant caravan before speeding towards Yellow Sand Market.
Alone against a thousand-trader caravan, it was better not to foolishly try to blend in. It’s not as if everyone would just travel alongside him innocently; those with a mind for robbery could kill without him even knowing. Better head straight for Yellow Sand Market, for Zhao Changhe didn’t believe the Demon Suppression Department wouldn’t have someone specifically in charge of sending reports to Huangfu Yongxian there.
Yellow Sand Market was far to the northwest. After riding alone for two days, he finally saw it from a distance and felt he might have even overtaken the merchant caravan.
It had been an exhausting two days. Apart from encountering the caravan one evening, there hadn’t been a soul in sight, just endless grassland like sailing alone on the sea; vast at first, but soon oppressively solitary. He had felt almost driven mad by isolation, yearning to shout loudly.
After a long journey, the scenery started to change; the grass turned from green to withered yellow and became sparse, tangled with sand, which was even more uncomfortable than viewing grass. Wuzhui also felt the distress, having nothing to eat and throwing quite a temper.
Cui Yuanyong’s judgment had been accurate. Though Zhao Changhe seemed like a lone traveler, he wasn’t accustomed to solitude, finding it extremely challenging to be all alone on the grasslands without anyone to talk to, while Yue Hongling and Han Wubing probably wouldn’t mind.
They were the type who could manage well without needing anyone to talk to. But Zhao Changhe couldn’t; seeing signs of human habitation from afar, he was so moved he nearly wept.
This place was odd; deep in the grasslands yet amidst the sands, there bizarrely existed a clear spring, reminding Zhao Changhe of Crescent Moon Spring near the Singing Sand Mountains—only this was not at the location of Crescent Moon Spring, and its geographical landmark didn’t match. He wondered if such a place existed in the current world or if it was unique to this world.
Though there was a water source, the harsh environment was not conducive for tribes to thrive or to pasture, yet it was quite suitable as a temporary settlement site. Over time, it evolved into a market place where tribes gathered for trade, managed and taxed by the military forces of Tie Muer. Several merchants had made it their permanent post, especially those running inns and taverns, adding to the bustle.
Naturally, the market lacked structures like city walls, and it was unclear where the military encampment was, but there were many merchant caravans stationed outside, moving goods into the area.
Dusty from travel, Zhao Changhe immediately saw a tavern flag next to the entrance, which led him to a multilingual sign that read "Rooms Available Inn."
Zhao Changhe felt as if he had seen his own home and led his horse inside.
Very much in line with a classic martial arts setting, the inn surely had a coquettish and charming female innkeeper, her neckline so low that it revealed a deep cleavage and two halves of her bosom; her sway as she walked made the men, fresh from the grasslands and deserts, dizzy with desire.
Why call it "Rooms Available Inn"? "Dragon Gate Inn" would be so much better!
Ah, it seemed to be full?
"Madam, why does this horse milk wine have a musty flavor?" a customer shouted.
The room erupted with laughter: "Of course, San Niang’s brew has a musty taste! If it’s not musty, we wouldn’t drink it!"
The customer joked, "My jar is especially musty."
The innkeeper, unoffended, smiled slyly, "I peed in it when I was brewing it—yes, just that jar meant for you."
Laughter filled the room: "Why reward him? Why don’t we get any?"
The innkeeper’s gaze flitted playfully, "I’ll reward you all with foot-bathing water."
The earlier customer quipped, "I reckon this wine isn’t from human urine but from horse urine; how about the madam adds a bit of her own to compensate?"
What was a joking crowd suddenly fell silent, staring at the man as if witnessing a miracle, speechless.
Were you all just joking around, or were you serious?
Teasing San Niang at Yellow Sand Market?
Zhao Changhe looked over to the table of drinkers, seeing four burly men with bushy beards, curled mustaches, high noses, and deep-set eyes; their Chinese was not quite standard—probably visitors from the Western Regions.
San Niang’s smile remained unchanged, "Oh, what if I don’t have water, what would the guests do? Not pay?"
The man said, "If the lady boss is willing to give some juice, then there’ll be money, plenty of it!"
"Then I’ll give it to you." Swinging her willowy waist, San Niang walked over, leaned against the burly man, picked up a wine cup from the table, and pretended to feed him.
The burly man’s eyes gleamed with desire, but suddenly he stiffened.
"Clink," the wine cup shattered, a shard splashed out, precisely piercing his throat, and he died instantly.
His three companions then realized what had happened, rose to draw their swords, but before they could unsheathe them, wine-cup shards flew, slicing accurately across each one’s throat.
In an instant, all the drinkers at the table were dead.
As if nothing had happened, the innkeeper continued to smile, "Someone, gather their belongings and throw their bodies outside to feed the dogs."
Several waiters hurried over to clean up; the other guests glanced over and then looked away, as if they’d seen a few dogs slaughtered rather than men.
Zhao Changhe recalled what Cui Yuanyong had said about the far greater mix of people here than in Sword Lake City; of course, it surpassed it—Sword Lake City, after all, still operated under some semblance of civilization, whereas this place was entirely chaotic. Internal factions might still have some mutual concerns, but a foreigner behaving recklessly here would truly die without knowing how.
These four Western Region guests had lust-dominated thoughts with disregard for their lives; a flirty and seductive innkeeper daring to show herself in such a place instead of turning into a plaything required either outstanding personal strength or the support of a powerful faction; only someone with a broken brain would dare to provoke her.
Zhao Changhe sensed this woman had at least Human List strength, possibly even Earth List, but couldn’t match her to any names from Chaotic World Book that referred to San Niang. Besides, she seemed like a person from Central Plains—could someone from Central Plains thrive here during the wartime? What would Tie Muer think of this?
Another seemingly fearless person continued to ask, "San Niang, you’ve been leaving us hanging for many years now; isn’t it a pity to see beauty fade, when will you show us some real action?"
"When you ascend to heaven." San Niang laughed again, not minding the teasing.
Heaven, unclear whether that meant death or if only people from the Heavenly List were worthy of her attentions. She answered casually, her gaze already falling on Zhao Changhe, who had been watching the spectacle at the door with his horse for some time.
With a coquettish twist of her waist and a beaming smile, "We actually didn’t have any seats available, and I couldn’t properly attend to a guest... but now some seats have just freed up; young man, would you like to come in for a few drinks? We’ve got warm horse milk wine."
Zhao Changhe also laughed, "But I don’t drink flirtatious ones."
San Niang blinked, "Pure ones? How about Jiangnan osmanthus wine?" Fresh chapters posted on novel※fire.net
"Yes." Zhao Changhe handed his reins to a waiter, "Does San Niang’s place offer lodging, or just food?"
"Yes, does the guest want to stay the night?"
"Of course. I have this inexplicable feeling that it’s particularly safe here."
San Niang laughed outright: "The guest has good judgement."
She sized up Zhao Changhe, puzzled as to how a lone traveler had emerged here without apparently transporting any goods.
Noticing the Broadword on his back, she couldn’t place its make; in such a region, more people tended to carry Curved Sabers and these kinds of heavy blades—common weapons around here.
Seeing Zhao Changhe seated, San Niang personally brought him the wine, nonchalantly said with a smile, "Not only do we have lodging, but there’s also a gambling den, would the guest like to try a few hands?"
Zhao Changhe was perusing the menu but, hearing this, his interest piqued, he asked, "This gambling den of yours... does it win?"
"How you speak," San Niang’s expression unchanged, said with a cheery laugh, "Who enters a gambling den not aiming to win?"