One step further, and the child would have been crushed to a pulp.
Clutching the rattle drum from the ground, the child coughed incessantly from the dust kicked up by the horse's hooves. The parent finally squeezed through the crowd, scooped up the toddler, and ran off without looking back.
Bystanders along the street called out in outrage, but the rider in white seemed entirely oblivious. He looked up, his gaze fixing on Uncle Hao.
Uncle Hao remained expressionless.
Liu Baobao, right beside He Lingchuan, gave a loud cough. "Who do you think you are? Don't you know galloping through a busy market warrants flogging?"
"Who's doing the flogging?" The youth in white gave a laugh laced with unhidden disdain. "You?"
The youth's gaze was sharp as a needle. Feeling his face go numb under the piercing stare, Liu Baobao couldn't help shrinking back a little. "Blackwater City strictly enforces its laws! Just try taking another few strides and see!"
Once those words were out, the youth ignored him, shifting his eyes to He Lingchuan as if discerning who was truly calling the shots.
He Lingchuan gave him a faint smile. The other youth scrutinized him closely for a couple of beats before urging his horse forward again.
The grey-robed rider behind him never once looked up.
After that brief commotion, the pair slowed their pace, and young and old alike watched them disappear around the street corner.
That direction led out of the city toward the northeast.
Uncle Hao spoke up at the right moment. "Both have cultivation. That grey-robed one in back especially—I couldn't fathom his depth. The kid in white might come from the Militarist School."
He Lingchuan raised an eyebrow, mildly surprised.
Uncle Hao had once slaughtered more than a dozen prominent households in the capital in a single night. Later enlightened by an adept of the Daoist sects, he had learned esoteric arts to cleanse his baleful aura. His cultivation ran deep, and he held a high-ranking retainer status in the He clan. When he said the grey-robed traveler was formidable, He Lingchuan had no reason to doubt him.
Neither seemed like ordinary merchants. What were they doing out here in this frontier borderland?
Just then, several more people arrived in the middle of the street—Blackwater City patrolmen. Drawn by the disturbance, they questioned the surrounding crowd, "What happened here?"
"Two riders galloped through the market and nearly trampled a child!" The townsfolk chimed in all at once, the gist of it being such.
Only two? Then it wasn't the eldest young master of the He clan. Thank goodness. The patrolmen's anger flared even higher, but looking up, the captain caught sight of He Lingchuan leaning against the window watching the show. His expression instantly softened into an easy grin as he offered a quick greeting. "Is Lord He well?"
"Fine, very fine," He Lingchuan replied with a smile. "You here to chase them down?"
"We're going after them!" The patrol captain puffed up with righteous indignation. It was forbidden to gallop horses through the market, yet they dared to do so anyway—what was that if not open contempt for the law? "They must be severely punished!"
He Lingchuan pointed the way. "Those two headed toward the northeast gate."
The patrol captain thanked him and set off in pursuit with his men.
Once they were gone, Uncle Hao remarked, "A few patrolmen won't be able to detain them."
"I know. Just tossing a stone to see where it lands," He Lingchuan shrugged. "This is Blackwater City. Would they really cause a major ruckus in broad daylight?"
Yet about a quarter of an hour later, the patrolmen returned empty-handed.
Not at all surprised by the outcome, He Lingchuan still asked to learn what had happened. "Where are they?"
The patrol captain hadn't expected him to still be waiting around for the result. Looking a bit embarrassed, he cleared his throat before replying, "Those two are subordinates of General Pacifying the North, the Governor of Xunzhou. They're in Blackwater City on official business and presented wax-sealed official documents."
He Lingchuan let out a drawn-out "Ohhh."
He knew the captain was referring to General Pacifying the North, Nian Zanli, who held the post of Governor of Xunzhou—effectively holding the reins of both civil and military authority, wielding vastly more power than the Inspector of Jinzhou.
Beneath a province came a commandery. If He Chunhua, the Governor of Qiansong Commandery, were to meet this General Pacifying the North, he too would have to respectfully refer to himself as "this humble official."
The patrolmen soon took their leave. Liu Baobao looked rather uneasy. "Those two won't remember me, right?"
"Such a trivial thing—why would they bother keeping it in mind?" He Lingchuan offered this comfort with zero sincerity, though his mind turned over a question: What was the Governor of Xunzhou sending men to Blackwater City for?
Right at that moment, two claps of thunder rumbled across the sky, booming so loudly they made ears ring and sent dogs in the street yelping, tucking their tails between their legs as they scurried away.
Used to such things, the people of Blackwater City simply carried on with their business.
Looking west, He Lingchuan saw turbulent clouds gathering on the horizon—a massive bank of heavy, dark storm clouds.
A storm was coming.
***
"A storm is coming." The youth in white looked up at the sky, then glanced at the grey-robed man. "Do you think this place will do?"
The two of them were none other than on Hulu Mountain.
It had seven peaks, three of which were bare rock and soil, rugged and blunt as bald brutes.
Though unimposing in appearance, Hulu Mountain was teeming with mice, hares, foxes, and deer, and hunters could occasionally bag wild boar and grey wolves.
The pair stood on a game trail, having already inspected several caves.
"The land and water may not be lush, but there are plenty of living creatures. In terms of numbers, it barely suffices." A purple-gold pestle appeared in the grey-robed man's hand. Its head was carved with a wide-mouthed, bug-eyed beast stepping upon four hanging rings, while its base was tapered like an awl, gleaming with a metallic sheen.
With a flick against the wind, the foot-long pestle transformed into a seven-foot purple-gold staff.
The grey-robed man plunged the purple-gold staff more than a foot into the earth until it stood firmly upright on its own. Only then did he ask the youth in white for a teal copper coin and stuffed it into the beast's mouth.
The beast's jaws clamped shut of their own accord, gripping the copper coin as a red glow flared in its eyes.
The grey-robed man began swaying the top of the staff.
The hanging rings beneath the beast's feet immediately chimed and clattered. At first, the sound seemed chaotic, but listening closer, one could discern that it followed a specific rhythmic cadence, looping over and over again.
And with every repetition, it grew clearer, more resonant, and... reached even farther!
The chirping of insects and birds that normally filled the forest vanished entirely, leaving only the relentless chime echoing on and on.
The youth in white took a deep breath.
Even with his mental fortitude, listening intently to the chiming soon left his head throbbing, his heart pounding, and his ears ringing. He was forced to release his concentration, letting his gaze drift absently toward the distant peaks.
By dividing his attention, it remained bearable.
After about the time it took to drink a cup of tea, a rustling clatter arose behind them, followed by an exasperated voice:
"Stop shaking it! Stop! Don't let it ring any longer!"
At the voice, the purple-gold staff went still. The two looked back to see a desert poplar shaking its branches and rustling its leaves; the voice seemed to emanate directly from the foliage.
The poplar was gnarled, vigorous, and weathered by storms. Looking to be at least three to four hundred years old, it was the largest tree in the vicinity.
The youth in white was the first to speak. "Are you this place's mountain spirit?"
"I am the mountain spirit of Poplar Mountain, appointed two hundred years ago. Now it is called Hulu Mountain." The Poplar Mountain spirit's voice was peculiar, as if produced by countless vibrating leaves rubbing together. Slurred and faint at first, it grew increasingly fluent as it spoke.
Like someone who hadn't spoken in years readjusting to speech. "I have slumbered for a very long time; not even the local officials could wake me. Who are you?"
Only now did it sense the copper coin held in the beast's mouth atop the purple-gold pestle, murmuring in astonishment, "Eh? This is a State Token of the new dynasty. It seems to be called... what Yuan?"
"A Yuan coin." The grey-robed man tapped the beast's head, and the teal copper coin dropped into his palm. Had any bystander been watching, they would have seen that this coin was slightly larger than ordinary ones, with a hole pierced at the top edge for ease of threading a cord.
Chapter 6