The Blade-Wielding Legend
Chapter 101 - 92 Mountain Rain and the Pugilistic World Road_2

Chapter 101: Chapter 92 Mountain Rain and the Pugilistic World Road_2

"Look how scared you are, you coward."

Sha Lifei glared at him, "I came to buy some drinks, you’ll let me in, right?"

"Of course."

The waiter quickly bent over and gestured with his hand, "Please come inside, sir."

The shopkeeper had seen all sorts of people come and go—those who were unreasonable, those who swaggered around—Sha Lifei’s demeanor did not faze him.

Sha Lifei did not bother to argue; he jogged inside, leaping over muddy puddles and lifting the curtain to enter the inn.

In the pugilistic world, inns varied greatly in quality.

The top-tier ones were often located in bustling major cities, with over a dozen courtyards inside and outside, frequented by noble guests and wealthy merchants.

The upper-middle-class ones were also quite good, though slightly smaller, often situated next to renowned brothels or taverns in the city or near academies where many people gathered.

As for those on the roadside, they were mostly rudimentary.

This Fenglai Inn was divided into a front hall and a rear courtyard.

The front hall had two floors; it was spacious in the middle, filled with square tables for guests to drink and dine, with wooden railings and brick stairs on both sides leading to the second-floor rooms.

As for the rear courtyard, it had dormitories that accommodated dozens in a row, as well as single rooms with private courtyards, depending on whether you had enough silver on you.

Perhaps due to the autumn rain, there were quite a few people inside the inn.

"Waiter, bring a pot of old Qin wine and some food."

Sha Lifei called out and then found an empty corner to sit down. He pulled out a book titled "The Matchmaker of Sha Monastery" from his bosom, pretending to read while actually observing the surroundings.

He was an old hand in the pugilistic world and quickly discerned the identities of the other guests in the inn.

Those sitting near the left side, dressed neatly and speaking elegantly, were all vegetarians with guards standing behind them; they were clearly a pilgrimage group from Chang’an.

The so-called pilgrimage groups usually formed partnerships to visit famous mountains and rivers to offer incense—partly to demonstrate their sincerity and partly to take the opportunity to enjoy the scenic views.

They typically had some family wealth and would hire some guards, as some places on the road were not very safe...

On the right side were obviously the drivers from a carting shop, drinking coarse wine, eating pickled vegetables, and in high spirits, they even started singing:

"Hey, liquor is made from grains, first it softens the arms, then the legs, bad liquor kills the gentleman as bad water ruins the path, even immortals can’t handle enough alcohol..."

They were loud, causing the faces of a few people from the Chang’an pilgrimage group to show disapproval, but after a guard whispered in their ears, they could only endure and not react.

Sha Lifei chuckled inwardly.

Despite their crudeness, these drivers were not to be trifled with. They had the backing of carting shops, and perhaps even familiarities with bandits along the road.

Should disputes arise, a face-covering and a beating would be the least of concerns.

And if someone with malicious intent were to secretly commit murder and robbery, disposing of the bodies in the forest to feed the wild animals, it wouldn’t be the first time.

If they were wanted, they would simply flee to another state to continue their work.

These Chang’an pilgrims really were not to be provoked.

As for the other people in the inn, most were pugilistic world performers from the errand-running guild, some muscle-bound and selling their skills, others were drumming storytellers carrying lute and sanxian, their faces weathered with a pot of coarse wine lamenting the hardships of life...

That’s how inns were.

Common folk were busy with their farming, so those on the roads were mostly either transporting goods or making a living in the pugilistic world.

After watching for a while and seeing no one suspicious, just as the waiter brought the drinks and dishes, Sha Lifei asked in a low voice, "Waiter, I want to ask, has the road been peaceful lately?"

As he spoke, he pulled out a few copper coins and placed them on the table.

"You’ve asked the right person, sir."

The waiter set down the drinks and dishes, and as he picked up the tray, the copper coins on the table had vanished—he chuckled, "We’re near Zhongnan Mountain, where even the bandits and wild beasts are so devout they wouldn’t harm a soul."

"Are you heading toward Shangzhou, sir?"

Sha Lifei nodded, "I’m going to Fengyang."

The waiter looked around and whispered, "After Zhongnan Mountain, you’d better be careful. Just yesterday, a driver who returned mentioned that there have been animal attacks over there."

"Also, at Niubeiliang, there are quite a few bandits from the green forest on the mountain. Recently they seem to be strapped for cash; they even clashed with Dingyuan Escort Agency, and I heard it was a big fight."

"Although you’re with a convoy escorting the dead, it might not stop them from taking action."

"Oh..."

Sha Lifei frowned slightly, "Thanks."

He had heard of Niubeiliang; the terrain was complex, with dense forests and high mountains, a necessary route to Shangzhou, occupied by numerous bandits.

The government had tried several raiding campaigns but never fully cleared them out.

It seemed he needed to discuss this further with Li Yan.

Thinking of this, Sha Lifei immediately shouted, "Waiter, pack these up and get me ten jin of wine."

"Right away!"

The waiter, smiling broadly, hurried to fetch the wine jug.

These Liu Lin old Qin wines were something those poor souls couldn’t afford; saving even a bit was something, and perhaps, if the proprietor was pleased, he might reward him a little more.

Sha Lifei, a tall and formidable man, picked up the ten-jin wine jug as if it were a toy, but just as he was about to leave, another person entered from outside.

The newcomer was a middle-aged man dressed in a blue shirt, wearing a cowhide belt and wrist guards, with a long sword by his waist, and no smile on his lips, but a trace of malice between his brows.

The key was the shoes he wore, which, though covered in mud, were black boot shafts with solid white soles.

These were thick soled soap boots, the kind worn only by officials or the sons of officials.

He glanced around, his brows slightly furrowed, and said in a deep voice, "Waiter, is there a good private courtyard available?"

The waiter, grinning obsequiously, said, "My lord, the courtyard has already been booked."

The middle-aged man casually threw out a string of coins, "Who is it?"

The waiter quickly caught it and chuckled, "You’re putting me in a difficult position here; I dare not say..."

But as he spoke, his eyes drifted aside.

Over there stood a group from Chang’an, who had come to offer incense.

Without another word, the middle-aged man approached the incense group and, cupping his hands in greeting, said, "Excuse me, gentlemen. My master cannot stand noise and would like a private courtyard. Could you please yield it? I am willing to pay three times the lodging cost."

The few in the incense group, already annoyed by the coachmen’s noise and about to leave, were unwilling to comply upon hearing this.

"Sir, aren’t you being rather domineering?"

"Indeed, do you think we can’t afford it?"

Among them was a young nobleman who, noticing the official boots, quickly intervened, his eyes flickering as he smiled and cupped his hands, "My lord, my father Zhang Xianqi serves under the newly appointed Governor Li Yan. May I ask who you are..."

This was a test, a way to gauge the other’s influence.

If the man had substantial backing, they would step aside and possibly establish a connection.

If he was just another minor government figure, he would know to back away without causing offense.

Hearing the mention of "newly appointed Governor Li Yan," the middle-aged man’s expression changed, and he said gravely, "Never mind, I won’t trouble you all."

The young devotee glanced disdainfully at the coachmen, feeling his status was diminished by sharing an inn with such boorish company.

Meanwhile, the middle-aged man had turned around to inquire of the waiter, "Is there some quiet place nearby to shelter from the rain?"

The waiter swallowed and his eyes drifted again.

"You coward, keep looking, and I’ll gouge out your eyes!"

Sha Lifei immediately cursed, then said, "In the pugilistic world, inconveniences are common. There’s another room on that side; we can vacate one without issue."

"Just a team escorting a deceased person; if you’re not afraid, then come," he said as he put on his bamboo hat and raincoat and left through the door.

Outside the inn, Sha Lifei immediately saw two carriages under the trees by the road, broad and elegant with their curtains tightly drawn and six horsemen beside them, all dressed in blue shirts and official boots.

Not wanting to cause trouble, he carried the wine jug and walked on.

The middle-aged man also hurried out and, arriving at the first carriage, respectfully cupped his hands and said, "Master, there are no private courtyards available; a group of Chang’an incense guests has occupied them..."

After hearing the account, an elderly voice from inside the carriage said, "Feng Ping, you’ve been deceived, though the court vehemently forbids this, when officials’ children travel, they often carry a letter allowing them to rest at stations along the way."

"Have you not seen enough such braggarts in Chang’an?"

"Nevertheless, you did the right thing; we should avoid trouble."

The man named Feng Ping nodded, "Master, there’s an abandoned house nearby for shelter from the rain, but there’s also a procession escorting a deceased person."

Inside the carriage, the voice spoke again, "People escorting the deceased back to their hometown are just like leaves returning to their roots. I have no objections; let’s proceed."

"Yes, my lord!"

The middle-aged man motioned, and the procession moved forward into the drizzle.

Just then, a crack appeared in the inn’s second-story wooden window, and a man with a stubbly face touched his chin, watching the carriages slowly depart, and murmured,

"Bigwig, wealthy type, flanked by seven skilled men; definitely the real deal."

Turning his head back into the room, he said,

"Third Brother, this one’s a tough nut to crack..."