But once blades were drawn, could the fighting really be stopped so easily?
The carriage rocked and swayed along the road.
Xu Feng and his master sat inside, listening to the bells jingling around the draft animal's neck.
People on either side sang in deep, resonant voices.
Xu Feng leaned out to look. Their convoy had quite a few carriages and people. They had spent a great deal to make this return trip, paying handsomely to hire a long-established caravan.
They had joined that caravan for the journey.
There were horses in front, carriages behind them, and flatbed carts bringing up the rear. All told, it made for a long, imposing procession.
They were not the caravan's only customers, either.
There were plenty of people traveling with it.
With so many people talking, Xu Feng heard a fair bit about what was happening outside.
Even after a single day on the road, "chaos" hardly began to describe it.
Beheadings were no longer something that happened just once a year.
The guilty and the innocent alike died on those execution grounds.
Their blood mingled and soaked into the earth. And this was only the beginning.
"Troubled times are upon us."
So even though the caravan knew Xu Feng and his master were carrying a coffin, its people took their money and pretended not to notice.
They passed through towns and stopped at inns without giving anything away.
Leaning against the side of the carriage, Xu Feng listened to the singing. "Every place has its own way of life."
His master said, "There you go saying odd things again, boy. What do you mean?"
"There's strength in that singing."
Someone was performing by the river.
Xu Feng listened, lost in the voice, and thought back to his parting conversation with Mr. Li.