Lu Chen opened the bundle. Inside was a set of gray martial clothes, a pair of thick-soled boots, and a slightly worn black cotton robe.
He changed briskly, buckled on his saber, and headed out.
An hour later, outside the eastern gate.
The wind and snow had briefly let up, and the sky hung dark and heavy.
Three or four dozen people had gathered on the open ground, along with more than a dozen mule carts. Human voices and horses' neighs mingled in a clamor.
Most of the crowd were employees of the Daxing Rice Shop, bundled in thick cotton coats, waiting with their hands tucked into their sleeves and their shoulders hunched.
Another seven or eight burly men stood together, their manner carrying the slick air of streetwise locals as they chatted in low voices.
They were some of the men Jin Ming had quietly gathered over the years, and they had come along to lend their support.
Jin Ming stood on a cart shaft. His cheeks were faintly red with excitement and the cold. He cleared his throat, trying to make himself heard over the wind. "Everyone, this trip to Jiaoguo is our last big job before the New Year. We need to buy plenty of grain, and buy it well! We need to travel steadily and return safely!"
His gaze swept across the crowd, and he raised his voice again.
"This is my first time taking charge of a job on my own. I'll be counting on all of you, brothers, to lend a hand. As long as we return safe and sound, I'll double your pay and keep you supplied with food and drink!"
"Now that's the young master's style!"
A few sharp-witted men below immediately shouted their approval.
The employees smiled along with them, and the mood lightened.
Jin Ming drew a deep breath and waved his hand sharply. "Let's go!"
The crowd surged forward, and the carts rolled over the remaining snow as they slowly set out.
Jin Ming swung onto his horse, straightened his back, and held the reins as he rode back and forth beside the caravan, doing his best to look experienced.
Lu Chen watched for a while, then walked to a cart near the middle-rear of the convoy. It carried a few odds and ends and still had room. He hopped lightly aboard and sat down.
He didn't like riding horses. It was bumpy and drew too much attention. This empty cart suited him just fine.
Jin Ming didn't take the main road.
After leaving through the eastern gate, the caravan turned onto a dirt road narrower than the main thoroughfare.
It was the grain route that the Daxing Rice Shop had worn into the earth over years of transporting grain.
They knew every dip in the road, every place to rest, and every nearby hill. They had also made arrangements with the bandits, and there were few rumors of strange beasts or monsters along the way.
Seven or eight trips out of ten along this road ended safely.
But Jin Ming was taking charge of a major job for the first time, so he didn't dare let his guard down.
Scouts were sent ahead and behind the caravan, disguised as merchants and woodcutters, keeping their distance.
About every quarter of an hour, one of them would return and quietly report to Jin Ming that the road ahead was clear or that nothing was happening behind them, then disappear into the roadside again.
As the sky began to darken, the caravan followed the grain route into a mountain hollow.
A cluster of buildings came into view ahead, with lights glimmering here and there. It was a mountain waystation.
Wen'an County was surrounded by mountains, and the area was full of hunters. Traveling merchants often stopped here to rest and trade.
The waystation was enclosed by tamped-earth walls twice a man's height, with brambles growing thick along the top and crossbow-wielding guards patrolling the walls.
Beyond the heavy, iron-bound wooden gates, voices rose in a din, mingling with the lowing of livestock, the clatter of pots and ladles, and the warmth of cooking food. It all gave off a lively, welcoming air in the freezing night.
The open ground outside the gate was already crowded with carts and horses. Merchants carrying furs and mountain delicacies came and went, calling out to one another.
The caravan creaked its way into the station, and Jin Ming finally let out a breath of relief.
The Daxing Rice Shop was a regular here. The caravan's steward knew the place well and quickly found the owner to arrange rooms and order food and wine.
Jin Ming's body could barely take it. After a whole day on horseback, he was battered to pieces. He stumbled into a room, flopped down, and began snoring.
The waystation offered two kinds of lodging:
One was a private room, clean and comfortable, but expensive.
The other was a large communal sleeping platform, where more than a dozen men crowded together on one big kang. The bedding was provided, but who knew how many layers of strangers' sweat and grease had soaked into it? The mix of sweat and mildew stank, and the bedding was both dirty and damp.
Experienced merchants and travelers usually brought their own bedding.
After a full day in the saddle, Jin Ming was exhausted and sleepy. He couldn't be bothered to put on airs and pretend to be generous; he took a guest room for himself.
As for Lu Chen, Jin Ming waved him off to squeeze onto the communal platform.
That evening, food was brought out, and everyone drank and laughed together. The main dish was noodles, accompanied by a basin of stewed meat. Nobody knew what wild animal it came from, but hunters were common here, so game was plentiful, cheap, and filling.
Lu Chen was eating his noodles with his head down.
Suddenly, the conversation of several hunters at the next table caught his attention.
"Brother Zhao, you really did run into the Huo Family Ghost House?"
"I did."
A scar-faced man took a swig of wine and said in a low voice,
"There were seven or eight of us from the village. At first we thought it was an abandoned house and wanted to go inside to get out of the snow. By the time we realized something was wrong, it was too late."
"What happened to the people who went inside?"
"They died." The man looked terrified. "One by one, they vanished without a sound. I accidentally rolled into a cellar, crawled around in the dark, and somehow came out through a hole in the earth on the back hill... It was eerie, damn eerie."
Lu Chen wasn't the only one who heard. Several young employees at the next table perked up their ears too.
"The Huo Family Ghost House? What's that?" one young employee couldn't help asking.
Ma Jun, the caravan steward, held a long-stemmed pipe in his mouth and said calmly, "It's a haunted place in the mountains nearby. Plenty of people have come across it, but very few who go in make it out alive. That hunter got extremely lucky."
"What's inside that ghost house? Monsters? Ghosts?" another employee pressed.
Steward Ma shook his head. "No one can say for sure. The elders only say that a wealthy man named Huo was obsessed with alchemy long ago and hid in the mountains to practice it. No one knows what sinister thing he made. After that, the house became strange. People started disappearing one after another. One day it was a maid, the next a laborer. The living vanished without a trace, and no bodies were ever found."
Lu Chen suddenly asked, "What if an External Force martial artist went inside?"
Steward Ma looked up at him, then shook his head. "I've never heard of that. An External Force martial artist isn't bored out of his mind. Why would he go poking around a place like that?"
Lu Chen said nothing more. His gaze fell on the mission page that had suddenly appeared.
[Mission: Explore the Huo Family Ghost House] [Reward: Unlock the "Truth-Peering Pill" Card Pool]
He mused to himself. He hadn't expected a few idle words from hunters to trigger a mission.
Truth-Peering Pill? Judging by the name, it was probably a card pool related to pills.
Fortunately, the mission had no time limit. There was no need to rush.
He could grow stronger first and make plans later.
The waystation was lively at night.
Merchants and hunters all gathered in the big hall. The charcoal braziers burned hot, and smoke, wine, and sweat mingled in the air.
The liveliest spot was the big wooden table in the northeast corner. People crowded around it as dice rattled wildly in a bowl and coins clinked, amid curses and cheers.
The caravan employees who liked to gamble had already squeezed in, placing bets until their faces were red and their necks bulged.
One of them spotted Lu Chen standing off to the side and called to him, "Brother Lu, want to play a couple of rounds? My luck's on fire!"
"I don't know how," Lu Chen said, shaking his head.
The man didn't press him. He turned back to stare at the dice in the bowl.
Lu Chen had no interest in gambling. Nine times out of ten, it was a scam, and the house always won.
His gaze shifted to the other end of the waystation, where it was quieter. A few sheets of oilcloth lay on the ground, covered with the odds and ends merchants had picked up along the way.
Lu Chen lifted the hem of his robe and crouched, rummaging through the pile: old books, strange stones, bronze objects, daggers... Nothing but useless trinkets.
He lost interest and was about to stand when he noticed a hairpin at the very back of the stall. It had been carved from a seashell, with a soft pink sheen. The workmanship was delicate, and it was beautiful.
Lu Chen suddenly remembered that Master's Wife always wore a plain wooden hairpin to tie up her hair.
This shell hairpin might suit her quite well.
Before you continue