Chapter 75
Chapter 75
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 75
Chapter Title: Suspicious Wayside Inn
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From time immemorial, women were a rare sight on the trade routes crossing the steppes and deserts. The journeys were grueling, and women in particular faced countless dangers.
Thanks to long stretches of abstinence, the arrival of a young woman was bound to captivate men whose desires were boiling over.
Even the sporadic chatter in the wayside inn fell silent as if by magic.
The inn boy looked visibly flustered.
Contrary to everyone's expectations, the woman wore a wide-brimmed bamboo hat pulled low, hiding her face.
Yet men had a way of seeing what couldn't be seen when it came to women. The perky breasts, the slender waist, and the voluptuous hips forming an impossibly sensual curve—even the wind-whipped robes couldn't conceal them.
People thought to themselves.
*No way a porcupine head is attached to a body like that.*
The man in the bamboo hat who had spoken up first wore a troubled expression.
But the woman didn't back down.
"Let's do that. We're not in a rush, and everyone's exhausted anyway. Let's rest properly here tonight and set off in the morning."
"But, Client..."
"Do as I say."
The client was the owner of the cargo being escorted. Who were they to argue if the client wanted to rest?
"Understood."
"And tell them to bring out plenty of liquor and meat. If they run short while we're eating, it just sours the mood. No energy either."
The man in the bamboo hat couldn't defy her.
He turned to the inn boy.
"Bring out plenty."
The inn boy, now full of enthusiasm, shouted toward the kitchen again.
"Ten phoenix chickens and five jars of piping hot baekju!"
He turned to the escorts and continued.
"Take any seat that's comfortable. Ah, that spot under the fortress wall looks good. Sometimes sandstorms blow in from the desert at night, but huddling against the wall keeps the sand out of your clothes. Oh, and hand over the horses. I'll take them to the stable and feed them well."
The inn boy rattled off this entire speech without pause, then swiftly snatched the reins. With practiced skill, he led away the ten horses in the blink of an eye.
The escorts were left dumbfounded by the inn boy's masterful handling of guests.
"What are you standing around for? Move the wagons and set up the tables."
The man in the bamboo hat ordered the escorts.
A small commotion ensued.
The escorts backed the wagons carrying the cargo tight against the fortress wall, then dragged over five tables to form a long barricade like a stockade.
The eyes of those already in the inn remained glued to the bamboo-hatted figure whose clear voice had just rung out.
Even the Mongols huddled in the corner around a fireless table, guzzling and bellowing, turned to stare at the hatted woman.
People thought.
*Wearing a hat at night might be for the dust, but no one keeps that cumbersome thing on while sitting at a table, right?*
As expected, the escorts began removing their hats one by one.
The one who had first spoken to the inn boy took his off first. He was a sturdy man in his mid-thirties with broad shoulders matching his square jaw, stubborn lips, and a striking scar across his eyes.
But people's gazes didn't linger on him.
The woman removed her hat too.
And a heavy silence spread!
Her skin was so white it bordered on pale, with a dainty nose, lips begging to be kissed, and those limpid eyes that seemed to say, *I know nothing...*
The woman possessed an innocent face that clashed utterly with her sensual figure.
Yet strangely, that purity blended mysteriously with her curves, creating an indescribable allure.
She was a beauty with snow-white skin and flower-like features.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Starting with the scarred man, every escort slammed their sword hilts onto the table. A warning that rash moves would cost them their heads.
Startled merchants and travelers turned away one by one. Of course, some sneaked sidelong glances.
Once the stares faded, the scarred man whispered low.
"Why are you doing this?"
"You heard the inn boy. No one's slept in three days. If we run into sandstorm bandits in this state, we're done for. Better to rest here. And since we're resting, let's fill our bellies properly."
"It's not just that, is it...?"
"What if we've walked into a tiger's den?"
"What do you mean?"
"For merchants crossing long distances, swords are more tools or deterrents than weapons for real combat. They don't train seriously in martial arts, and when a true master shows up, they have no intention of fighting—they treat their blades like cumbersome baggage."
Escort Leader Bang Dae-gang was slightly taken aback. He prided himself on years wandering the jianghu, but he'd never considered that.
He rarely dealt with merchants anyway, and never paid close attention. After all, he wasn't a real escort leader.
The woman, Yong Seol-ran—not a true client either—continued.
"But most people gathered here have swords at their waists. Even those who've unsheathed theirs have them on the table or leaning against chairs, right within left-hand reach. Ready to grab the hilt with the left and draw with the right in an instant. These aren't ordinary merchants or travelers. They're highly skilled, real martial artists."
Bang Dae-gang and Yong Seol-ran's conversation was quiet, but the escorts facing them across the table heard clearly.
A deathly silence fell over the table. Only now did the tiger's den feel real. What would they have done without Yong Seol-ran?
The talk resumed.
"Are they all in on it together?"
"Doesn't seem like it."
"Why not?"
"They're pretending to be calm, but they're watching each other warily. Nine times out of ten, it's various factions and lone wolves gathered here."
"After the treasure map, then."
"Probably."
"Have they noticed us?"
"Not yet, I think."
"How can you be sure?"
"The only public knowledge is that the treasure map passed through the Taklamakan Desert toward Shaanxi Province. No one knows for sure it's in someone's hands disguised as escort cargo."
"Then why are they gathered here like they've been waiting?"
"They don't know who carried it through the Taklamakan, so they're converging here first. They seem to suspect each other too. And now us as well."
Bang Dae-gang finally realized the blunder he'd nearly made and paled.
Insisting on crossing the desert now would have drawn everyone's suspicion—and pursuit.
Just thinking about it sent cold sweat down his back.
"I'm sorry. My stubbornness nearly put everyone in danger."
"No. You did well, actually."
"Pardon?"
"I didn't notice from the start either. Your argument with the inn boy drew eyes, letting me observe more closely. Thanks to that, we know these aren't ordinary merchants—a gain, at least."
"You're just saving my face."
"No. If we'd crossed the desert oblivious, they would've suspected and chased us. Ambushed in the open desert at night? No escape then. Better to stall here and scout their identities."
"Makes sense."
"The real problem starts now. We need to identify everyone here as quickly as possible."
"Any leads?"
"Fifty-two people inside, roughly five factions. A few loners scattered among them, but none feel ordinary."
"Tigers don't run in packs."
"Won't be easy."
"Care to elaborate?"
"Among the loners, at least three are beyond what you could handle, Escort Leader. Full-on fight? We'd lose for sure."
The listening escorts were stunned.
Bang Dae-gang, disguised as escort leader, might be slow on the uptake, but his martial prowess was unmatched among them.
Once vice-commander of the Blood Sword Corps, a Heavenly Demon Divine Cult strike force that raced across Shandong's plains—bandit chiefs wet themselves at the name alone.
Yet even he couldn't handle three masters in this inn.
Bang Dae-gang fell silent; the escorts' faces hardened.
They'd figured treasure map hunters weren't small fry, but this level?
The shocking revelations didn't end there.
"The real issue is the sandstorm bandits."
"We know about them. As long as we avoid them, no problem. We've even prepared some decoy goods to hand over if needed."
"That's not it."
"Another reason?"
"Geographically, this inn and the sandstorm bandits are symbiotic. More precisely, the bandits wouldn't leave the inn alone."
"What do you mean...?"
"Like this: The inn tips off the bandits about travelers' crossing times and numbers. Bandits wait at passes and collect tolls. Inn gets a cut as labor fee. Basically, the inn's their informant."
"Ah..."
Bang Dae-gang let out a long sigh.
It made perfect sense.
It started with bandits threatening the innkeeper, who had no reason to refuse. Sell booze and meat for profit, sell info for more coin.
Realizing this, it seemed weirder if they *weren't* colluding.
Then the true gravity hit. If symbiotic...
"The inn's an info hub. Treasure map rumors would've reached the bandits for sure. Martial artists converging here is obvious—they can't let others steal the lead."
"They'll watch the inn closely. Or maybe bandits are already here disguised as guests."
"Exactly. Their main force is probably nearby. When it goes down, the infiltrator signals, and they seize the inn."
"Like killing the hen for the eggs?"
"If they can grab a lifetime's worth of eggs at once, why not?"
"Damn it!"
"We need to find the sandstorm bandits fast."
"Can you?"
"Sigh, that's the problem. Not until they reveal themselves."
The escorts were speechless.
They'd heard the rumors about Yong Seol-ran.
A young woman with strategy and insight to shake the world?
Seeing her now, no exaggeration.
They forgot their peril in sheer awe.
Yong Seol-ran continued.
"Escort Leader, how many years since we met?"
"Three years since Taiyuan, so by the calendar, exactly ten this year."
"Ten years, yet we barely know each other. Short time together, but I'm glad to know someone like you."
"Why say that...?"
"If war breaks out, eyes will be on me. Use the chaos to slip out, head into the desert. You get it?"
"What are you..."
"Not everyone can survive. I'm slow; you're the master. Right now, that's the only way to protect the treasure map."
"Abandon you and the men to save myself? Impossible. You've misjudged me!"
"Am I asking your opinion?"
Yong Seol-ran's cold gaze pierced Bang Dae-gang.
He stiffened.
Usually soft as silk, but when she stripped emotion and glared, a chill ran through.
"If it's an order..."
"Answer again."
"I'll stake my life on it."
Only then did Yong Seol-ran's expression soften.
Just then, the inn boy brought out liquor and food.
Phoenix chicken literally meant steamed phoenix. What arrived was chickens with feathers roughly plucked, stuffed with veggies, and steamed.
At least fifteen crammed into a massive pot, served whole without portioning.
No surprise. Tongman had once been northern nomad lands, still heavily influenced. Their customs lingered everywhere.
Boiling food whole in big pots for groups to share was one such.
The baekju was genuine, at least. With so many liquor experts among the merchants, faking it would've been risky.
The inn boy laid out plates and vanished.
Yong Seol-ran said.
"Everyone, eat."
But no one reached for the chicken. It might be their last meal.
Bang Dae-gang broke the baekju seal, poured rounds, and they awkwardly began.
Then—
Boom!
A roar, and the gate flew open.
Startled gazes turned. Some instinctively grabbed swords.
North wind from the steppe howled through, revealing one figure.
About six feet tall?
Rope belt like sailors use, short axe and dagger tucked in, greenish bamboo staff in hand like a cane.
No beggar looked like that; more like a lone predator roaming the plains.
It swept eyes over drinkers, then beamed with emotion. He inhaled deeply, chest swelling, and said.
"Ah, liquor scent—how long since I last smelled it."