CHAPTER 92: CHAPTER 64: DEDICATION_1

"Have you settled down?"

"Yes, My lord. He’s in the small tent next to ours, the one we use to store food."

Siniang was a thoughtful woman. For this trip, she had specially prepared an abundance of fine food and drink for Zheng Fan. Whenever conditions allowed, she always pursued a refined quality of life. She was the kind of woman who would take the time to paint her nails even on the brink of execution.

Zheng Fan nodded.

Siniang knelt beside him.

The two maintained a knowing silence; if the unkempt man wanted to listen in, he could undoubtedly hear anything from just a tent’s distance away.

So awkward.

The other man’s surname was Shatuo. And it just so happened that the Colonel’s rank Zheng Fan currently held was earned by beheading the Shatuo tribe’s leader.

In fact, when the other man had uttered his surname, despair had already begun to grip Zheng Fan’s heart; he’d thought they had reached the point of drawing daggers. Even though Zheng Fan had claimed his name was Fanli, everyone in the military camp called him Zheng Colonel...

Can he really hide it?

Zheng Fan even suspected the other party already knew his identity and was fully aware that his hands were stained with the blood of the Shatuo tribe.

And had this fellow joined the convoy carrying the birthday tribute merely to freeload?

The destination of this convoy was the residence of the Earl of North Border.

Zheng Fan stared at the swaying candlelight before him.

At this moment, despite being the one escorting the birthday tribute, he suddenly had the illusion of escorting a nuclear warhead.

"Rest," Zheng Fan finally said.

Go to sleep. When you wake up, everything will be alright.

...

Of course, this was wishful thinking.

Because when he woke up, Zheng Fan saw the unkempt man already sitting before his bed.

Siniang was rolling out dough, water boiling in a pot nearby.

Zheng Fan sat up. Seeing this, Siniang started to rise to help him wash.

Zheng Fan shook his head, signaling Siniang to continue preparing breakfast. He then picked up a basin, filled it with water, and walked out of the tent, squatting at the entrance.

Brushing his teeth with coarse salt—a practice he’d found strange when he first awoke in this world—had become familiar; his mouth had slowly grown accustomed to the taste.

"GURGLE, GURGLE, GURGLE..."

"HAWK... PTOOEY!"

He soaked the towel in the cold water, wrung it out, and then vigorously rubbed it over his face.

Two groups of patrolling soldiers from the encampment passed by, pointedly saluting Zheng Fan, to which he nodded in acknowledgment.

Inwardly, he calculated that this group probably wouldn’t suffice as cannon fodder, so he said nothing further to them.

After finishing his morning ablutions, Zheng Fan returned to his tent.

The noodles were ready—minced meat noodles. The noodles were perfectly chewy, and the minced meat topping was seasoned just right.

By the time Zheng Fan finished one bowl, the unkempt man had already eaten five.

It seemed the living conditions of the Barbarians were truly dire. Even an expert like him couldn’t get enough to eat. Look how famished the poor fellow is, like a starving ghost reborn.

Zheng Fan mocked himself inwardly; for now, he could only feign strength in his thoughts.

After breakfast, the team set off again. The unkempt man complied with Zheng Fan’s suggestion, joining the wagon that carried Zheng Fan’s tent and other belongings. Zheng Fan also gave him one of his own hooded sweatshirts to wear, which the man put on.

With his hair and face now covered by the hood, he looked less disheveled. And since the hooded sweatshirt Siniang had made for Zheng Fan was of exquisite design and craftsmanship, there was less concern that the soldiers who had searched for him the previous night under Zheng Fan’s orders would recognize him.

Once back on the road, Zheng Fan rode at the head of the convoy, with Siniang riding beside him.

At that moment, Zheng Fan truly considered the idea of bolting on his horse. Even if it meant losing everything, at least he could save his own life.

However, this thought wasn’t too strong, even though Zheng Fan knew that if he prepared to flee, Siniang would undoubtedly follow him without a second word.

However, having come to this world, seen different scenery, encountered truly formidable experts, and now on his way to meet the most powerful behemoth in the north, the Earl of North Border—he couldn’t quite bring himself to flee so pitifully.

Perhaps, in his bones, he was still restless.

He hadn’t reached the philosophical stage of ’learning the Way in the morning and being content to die by evening,’ yet he possessed the petty bourgeois sentiment of ’The world is so big, I want to go see it.’

Lunch consisted of dry rations, as the team didn’t stop for a meal. In this era, most households were accustomed to two meals a day, though of course, those with better means would have three, four, or even more.

Therefore, the team only stopped to set up camp and cook in the evening.

Zheng Fan returned to his tent. The unkempt man, now wearing the hooded sweatshirt, was already waiting there, practically holding out an empty bowl for dinner.

Dinner was a hearty mixed stew. The outriders had caught some game during the day’s journey, and Zheng Fan was naturally given the choicest cut of meat. Some hotpot seasoning, starch noodles, and pickles were added. Although the meal wasn’t extravagant, it was quite good considering their current circumstances.

The three of them sat around the pot, eating in silence.

Zheng Fan finished eating first and walked out of the tent, heading straight for the carriage that held the Snow Wolf.

After a moment’s hesitation, Zheng Fan opened the carriage door and ducked inside.

Hui Wenzu was gnawing on deer meat. Seeing Zheng Fan enter, he merely smiled.

Because his physique was so conspicuous, Hui Wenzu had mostly stayed inside the carriage for the past two days. The experience certainly couldn’t have been comfortable.

The red Snow Wolf still lay there listlessly, looking half-dead, but it would likely survive until the gift presentation the next day.

"By tomorrow afternoon, we should arrive, Sir. Please endure it a little longer."

Normally, a swift horse required only a day’s travel from Hutou City to the Earl of North Border’s residence. However, because they were escorting the birthday tribute, the convoy’s pace was necessarily slow.

Furthermore, the Earl of North Border’s residence wasn’t in Tuman City, nor was it within any city walls. It was situated in the wilderness—in the desert, in fact.

A hundred years ago, during the protracted wars between the Yan State and the Desert Barbarians, Tuman City was Yan’s primary defensive line. But when the first Earl of North Border was enfeoffed to guard the north, he chose to establish his manor on an oasis far from Tuman City. He established his domain at the foot of Yin Mountain, adjacent to the Heng River!

For the next hundred years, the lineage of the Earls of North Border had essentially transformed themselves into a dagger, constantly thrust into the soft underbelly of the Desert Barbarians.

"Mm," Hui Wenzu responded. He put down the deer meat, wiped his mouth, and said, "Will I be able to see the Young Mistress tomorrow night?"

This was a question for Zheng Fan.

Zheng Fan shook his head, saying, "Forgive my impertinence, Sir. After arriving at the Earl’s Manor tomorrow, I will request an audience with the Young Mistress. If she is too busy tomorrow, it might be..."

"Mm, no matter. With the Madame’s birthday approaching, the Young Mistress will surely have many things to attend to. I’m not in a hurry, not at all." Hui Wenzu seemed quite understanding.

Zheng Fan nodded, then continued, "Please bear with it for one more day, Sir. Once we enter the Manor tomorrow, you will no longer have to endure these conditions."

"Hehe, I’m quite comfortable here. During the day, I chat with this beast; it keeps me from being lonely. Ah, once we reach the Manor, I must have a good drink with your father, Zheng Chenggong!"

"My father will surely be delighted."

"Of course, hahahaha..."

After some more meaningless banter, Zheng Fan alighted from the carriage. He looked up at the bright moon, his hand gently stroking the wineskin at his waist.

Inside the wineskin was grape wine, which Siniang had poisoned. The poison was one Xue Three had concocted back home, the same kind he typically applied to his dagger.

This wine... still hadn’t been offered.

Last night, Hui Wenzu had eaten piping hot roast chicken; tonight, he was eating roasted venison, game caught by the outriders that very day.

This indicated that, apart from himself, someone else in the convoy was looking after Hui Wenzu. Moreover, the person able to distribute venison likely held a position of some authority.

Is it one of those five Centurions under Wang Duan, or... someone else?

Zheng Fan tapped his forehead. He realized that once they reached the Manor the following afternoon, it would be exceedingly difficult to maintain his false identity and deceptions.

"If you want to kill someone, just do it."

The unkempt man’s voice sounded from behind Zheng Fan.

Zheng Fan jumped, a black glow instantly flaring from his body. But the unkempt man’s hand pressed down on Zheng Fan’s shoulder, and the next moment, the glow was completely suppressed.

It felt hopeless. He had just broken into the ranks. According to the usual tropes, unranked or Half-step Ninth Rank minions should have been constantly appearing to harass Siniang or mock him, only to be resoundingly slapped down, while bystanders gasped in astonishment.

His aspirations were grand, but reality was starkly barren. Yet this unkempt man was treating him like a ball of dough, kneading him this way and that.

However, the thought that Mo Wan, Siniang, and the others also had no way to deal with this unkempt man brought Zheng Fan a considerable sense of solace.

Perhaps it was because the power gap between them was too vast, or perhaps it was the unspoken understanding forged over several shared meals.

Zheng Fan shook his head, saying, "It’s not convenient."

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to kill, but if he acted rashly without absolute certainty, it could lead to chaos.

"Hehe." The unkempt man chuckled, offering no further comment.

Zheng Fan noticed he was carrying something on his shoulder and asked curiously, "Are you... preparing to leave?"

The unkempt man nodded. "Yes."

"Shall I see you off?"

"Alright."

... Zheng Fan thought. I was just being polite.

Zheng Fan and the unkempt man walked out of the encampment together. With Zheng Fan accompanying him, neither the patrolling soldiers nor the guards at the gate stopped them.

Once they left the encampment and reached a small hill, the unkempt man stopped.

Zheng Fan inwardly sighed with relief; he had genuinely feared the man might try to abduct him.

The unkempt man sat on the ground and opened his bundle, which contained some food, a wine cup, and a few candles.

Seeing this, Zheng Fan sat down as well.

The unkempt man first lit three candles and said, "Barbarian rituals have three parts. First, to respect the barbarian gods. Second, to respect the totems. And third, to respect the yellow sand."

Saying this, the unkempt man scooped up a handful of yellow sand and sprinkled it beside the candles.

Who was he worshipping?

Some food was placed before the candles.

Then, the unkempt man faced the candles, spread his hands out to his sides, and prostrated himself, his forehead touching the freshly sprinkled sand on the ground.

Seeing this, Zheng Fan took a breath and also knelt, kowtowing to the three candles.

The unkempt man had already risen. Seeing Zheng Fan also kowtowing, his expression became somewhat inscrutable. He asked, "What are you kowtowing for?"

Zheng Fan didn’t think much of it and replied, "It’s a custom where I’m from. Whenever we see a prayer mat or an altar, regardless of the god or Buddha, whether we recognize them or not, we kowtow. It’s a small gesture, just a nod of the head, really. No harm done."

It’s quite common for tourists in later times to visit a city, pray in a church in the morning, burn incense in a temple in the afternoon, and seek fortunes at a Taoist temple in the evening.

The unkempt man smiled, nodded, and said, "Indeed, no harm done."

Then, the unkempt man reached out, picked up the food he had just placed as an offering, and began to eat.

"Hey, are you that hungry?" It hadn’t been long since they’d had dinner.

The unkempt man nodded.

"Even if you’re that hungry, offerings should wait a bit. The one you’re making the offering to should partake first, then we can eat."

The unkempt man didn’t stop, continuing to eat with gusto. Only after swallowing a piece of jerky did he wipe his mouth with the sleeve of his hooded sweatshirt and say, "He won’t mind."

"He won’t mind? Then who are you making this offering to?"

"Myself."