Bulu Du

Inside Dragon Gate Inn.

The most conspicuous group was in the corner—seven or eight men, all powerfully built and dressed in Tartar clothing, with fur vests and braided hair. They sat around a table shouting boisterously, drinking from coarse pottery bowls, slicing meat with daggers and devouring it in huge mouthfuls. Their manners were crude, as though no one else existed.

Beside them lay or leaned curved sabers, heavy maces, and other weapons. A few even had leather round shields edged with iron resting at their feet. They radiated a fierce, murderous aura.

Their leader was a woman with healthy wheat-colored skin, deeply defined features, and unmistakably exotic charm. Her gaze was wild, bold, and direct, while several bulging leather pouches and strangely shaped little jars hung from her waist.

She was the leader of this band of Tartars—Bulu Du!

Bulu Du noticed Zu Hao the instant he entered. When her gaze fell upon his excessively handsome face, it was like iron filings meeting a magnet; she could not look away.

Liquor dribbled from her mouth without her noticing. She looked as though she had been bewitched.

The innkeeper, Old Zhai, had just seen off a merchant and wiped the sweat from his brow. When he turned and saw Zu Hao strolling calmly into the hall, his brows immediately drew together tightly.

He hurried over to the dazed waiter, who had only just climbed back to his feet, and scolded him in a low voice. "What the hell happened? Didn't I tell you to watch the door? Why did you let another one in? Isn't it chaotic enough already?"

The waiter looked aggrieved and frightened. Leaning close to Old Zhai's ear, he said urgently, "I tried to stop him! But that guy's damned strange. I hadn't even touched him before something knocked me onto the floor. He's definitely an expert."

"He specifically asked for a whole roast lamb and an upper room. He doesn't look like a wandering martial artist!"

While the two spoke in hushed tones, Zu Hao had already taken a seat. He casually took out a gleaming little gold bar from his sleeve—or rather, from his storage space—and placed it on the table covered in knife marks.

"Innkeeper."

Zu Hao spoke. "I'll only say this once."

"Money is no object."

"But if you serve the wrong thing..."

Zu Hao raised his eyes and looked calmly at Old Zhai. "I'll slaughter you."

Old Zhai's pupils abruptly shrank. A smooth merchant's smile instantly spread across his face as he hurried forward, deftly swept up the gold bar, weighed it in his hand, and said with a smile, "Rest assured, sir. We'll definitely satisfy you!"

He suddenly turned toward the bald waiter, who was still standing there in a daze, and his voice shot up. "Are you deaf? Didn't you hear our honored guest's order? Get to the pen, pick the fattest lamb and slaughter it! Clean it properly and put it on the roasting rack for the gentleman! Serve him with care!"

"Right away, innkeeper!"

The waiter jolted back to his senses, answered hurriedly, and ran toward the kitchen.

At that moment, Ling Yanqiu and Su Huirong entered the hall as well.

Ling Yanqiu swiftly swept the room with a vigilant glance. Deliberately avoiding both Zu Hao and the Tartar table, she chose another table neither too close nor too far from Zu Hao. Her back was just against the wall, facing the main entrance.

Old Zhai frowned to himself and was about to go over and say something.

But Ling Yanqiu had already raised her hand and cut him off in a cool voice. "We know. We'll leave after we eat."

Old Zhai relaxed upon hearing that. These two seemed to understand the rules, saving him a great deal of breath. He asked, "What would you two guests like?"

Su Huirong lifted her delicate, pitiful-looking face and spoke softly. "I... I'd like a bowl of lamb soup noodles..."

Hearing that, Ling Yanqiu immediately raised a hand to stop her, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Two bowls of plain noodles. Just boil them in clear water."

She had once run a shady inn herself. What kind of "meat" was boiled in that broth was truly hard to say.

"Sure, sure, sure. Two bowls of nun noodles!"

Old Zhai understood even more clearly. He had encountered professionals from the trade. He said nothing further and turned to shout toward the kitchen.

After Old Zhai left, Ling Yanqiu took two pairs of wooden chopsticks from her bundle and handed one pair to Su Huirong. Lowering her voice, she said, "There's a rule for eating in places like this."

"Using your own chopsticks is called 'One-Move Immortal.' Using theirs is called 'Food Through Heaven.'"

"These are the rules of a shady inn."

Su Huirong blinked her seemingly pure and innocent eyes and cooperatively asked, "What's a shady inn?"

Ling Yanqiu pointed with the tip of her chopsticks at the chop marks on the tabletop. "Look. Blades are drawn here all the time, and there are even scrubbed bloodstains in the cracks of the wood around us..."

Just then, the Tartars at the corner table suddenly erupted.

A burly man with a face full of flesh slammed his palm down on the table. The bowls and chopsticks jumped and rattled wildly. Pointing at the large platter of meat on the table, he glared and roared, "Innkeeper, you bastard! What do you take us for? You dare serve us 'white meat'? Do you really think we're greenhorns crossing the frontier for the first time?!"

So-called "white meat" was underworld slang specifically referring to human flesh.

In this desert, supplies were scarce, and raising cattle and sheep was no easy task. Some shady inns would use the flesh of murdered travelers to pass off inferior fare as good meat, deceiving ignorant passersby.

Experienced old hands would make it clear using underworld slang.

Of course, some desperadoes simply did not care what kind of meat was on the plate.

Zu Hao had specifically demanded "a whole roast lamb" precisely because he knew this, ensuring its source.

At the same time, he knew that this band of Tartars was actually in league with Old Zhai. Their commotion now was merely an act.

They were probably trying to use it to test him and Ling Yanqiu.

Just then, Zu Hao heard the disturbance and thought, Looks like the West Depot's people are here.

Ling Yanqiu's martial arts were quite good, and she heard the commotion shortly afterward as well. Her expression changed.

She abruptly rose to her feet, grabbed Su Huirong's wrist, and said urgently, "Go!"

At the same time.

A dense thunder of hoofbeats came from outside the inn.

The sound drew closer from afar, faint at first but becoming like rolling thunder in an instant. Judging by the momentum, there were no fewer than several dozen riders, and they were well trained.

Watching Ling Yanqiu and Su Huirong slip out of the inn.

Zu Hao remained unmoved, sitting steadily where he was.

Judging by the plot, if nothing unexpected happened, Zhao Huai'an would appear tonight!

A moment later.

A group of travel-worn figures surged through the inn's doors, their icy gazes sweeping every corner of the hall like blades.

They were the West Depot pursuers.

The man at their head had a gaunt face, high cheekbones, and eyes as sinister as shards of ice in winter. He was Tan Luzi, the West Depot's Second Chief.

He was gloomy and ruthless by nature, but brave without much brains.

Behind Tan Luzi followed the Third Chief, Ji Xueyong, and the Fourth Chief, Zhao Tong.

Ji Xueyong was slightly plump, with a false smile always hanging on his face, though his eyes revealed shrewdness.

Zhao Tong, on the other hand, looked thoroughly vicious. A scar ran across his face, marking him as a ruthless man who had spent years fighting amid flashing blades.

Leading the way in front was a man in short work clothes, with a dagger tucked at his waist. He was around forty, and his face carried a trace of slickness. This was Lü Bu.

Not the Lü Bu of the Three Kingdoms—merely someone with the same name. He often traveled around Jade Gate Pass, making a living as a guide and errand runner for various factions through his familiarity with the terrain and local connections. He had some reputation in the area as well.