Bishop

"Old man, how much did Steward Wang agree to pay you?" The middle-aged man cracked his whip and casually asked An Chen beside him.

An Chen pricked up his ears and listened to what was happening around him, while pretending to doze.

Then he pretended to have been woken by the middle-aged man and mumbled groggily, "Steward Wang said I couldn't tell anyone how much I'm being paid."

The middle-aged man chuckled and lowered his voice. "It's fine. We're not outsiders, are we?"

"Actually, it's not much—only two Silver Soul Coins." Old Yang chuckled as well.

A trace of sympathy flashed through the middle-aged man's eyes. He then said, "This journey crosses two provinces, and they're only giving you that little? Are you trying to cheat me?"

"That's plenty. I'm already halfway into the grave. What would I need so much money for?" Old Yang said indifferently.

The middle-aged man opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, nothing came out.

Old Yang smiled and resumed dozing.

After a while, the middle-aged man spoke again. "I'll go ask for you and see if they can give you a little more."

So he had been hesitating over whether to help me.

An Chen showed no reaction and continued pretending to sleep.

The middle-aged man sighed and said nothing more.

A week passed like this, and the journey was peaceful.

"We've reached Yuanxi Town. Two more days and we'll be in Tieyan City." The middle-aged man leaned against the carriage and gazed at the smoke rising in the distance.

Old Yang nodded and smiled. "We're almost there."

After a pause, he asked, "Have bandits become less common these past few years? How come we've hardly seen any along the way?"

"Hmph, who would dare target us?