Chapter 53: What Good Is This Piece of Junk Blade?!

As for what eventually became of the tea stall owner, Du Yuan knew nothing of it.

He was simply walking at his ease along the official highway of Qingzhou.

When he had left Qingxian earlier, he had lamented how exhausting it was to travel without a mount, resolving at the time to acquire some corresponding ability.

Well, look at him now—not only did he possess the convenience of shortening distances at will, but he also had the ease of storing items in a void.

Life was truly splendid!

However, as he walked, Du Yuan noticed another problem, though whether it truly counted as one remained to be seen.

Along the entire journey, he had not deliberately avoided crowds when using his spatial-shrinking technique, yet it seemed no one had ever noticed anything unusual about him.

Was it because of this small seal? Or was this divine ability simply meant to be this way? Or perhaps there was something else entirely?

Not entirely sure of the reason, Du Yuan merely pondered it quietly as he halted outside the city walls of Qingzhou.

There was no such thing as a customs tariff here; those were reserved for traveling merchant caravans and horse teams.

In fact, such groups always used a completely different city gate.

Ordinary passersby, as long as they did not openly carry weapons or other contraband, were paid no mind by either the bailiffs at the gate or the guards atop the ramparts.

Even country folk carrying baskets of seasonal vegetables, poultry, or livestock could pass through freely this way, without having to detour through the commercial route and pay taxes.

Naturally, Du Yuan followed the general flow of people and walked along the main path.

As he walked, Du Yuan caught sight of two or three familiar martial artists riding tall, spirited horses, coming straight in from the other, sparsely populated side of the highway.

After a few glances, Du Yuan recognized them as martial artists from the Qian family.

Because they were on a different path, Du Yuan remained among the crowd, and the three martial artists failed to notice him.

However, Du Yuan saw that the three martial artists were carrying the ghost-head broadsword that Qian Youcai had purchased at a high price.

It seemed they were returning home to deliver the item for Qian Youcai.

Yet, had the members of the Qian family not yet returned to pay their respects to their ancestors?

A person walking beside Du Yuan noticed him gazing at the three martial artists and remarked with envy:

"If I'm not mistaken, those are people from the Qian family. Ah, in this day and age, one must still rely on a noble clan to get ahead. Look at them; originally they were commoners just like us."

"Yet, having attached themselves to the Qian family, they don't have to wait in line with the likes of us when entering or leaving the prefectural city, but can instead walk straight down the privileged road reserved for high-ranking noble households."

Du Yuan nodded and said:

"So that road over there is exclusively for those elite families?"

"Not strictly speaking. To be precise, that path is a shortcut intended for official business, such as imperial couriers, though most of the time it's simply the nobility who use it."

The passerby was a talkative sort, and upon reaching this point, he added with a cheerful grin:

"And let me tell you something—many people don't know this, but the Emperor once issued a decree forbidding local powerful clans from monopolizing that road. However, as soon as the Emperor instituted the imperial examinations, that law was quickly repealed."

In just a few brief words, the early struggles between the imperial court and the aristocratic families were subtly laid bare.

A heroic sovereign, then?

This emperor was rather interesting.

"I have been enlightened."

"Think nothing of it."

-----------------

Inside the Qian residence.

Qian Dafu, the head of the Qian family, was flying into a rage.

Pointing at his eldest son who had just hurried back, he cursed:

"Look at the foolish stunt your younger brother has pulled! He actually dared to say that I... I, I. Never mind, let alone that little beast saying my Qian family has lost its virtue."

"He even dared to come back and report this to me, expecting to be rewarded for his achievement!"

Qian Dafu was genuinely furious to the point of explosion. His family's ancestral home was supposedly haunted, and what was more, haunted by their own ancestors—with the reason being that they were unfilial!

In ordinary times, such things could never even be spoken of, let alone now when the southwest was still plagued by heretical Daoists!

Qian Youde, the eldest son of the Qian family, attempted to soothe him from the side:

"Father, perhaps it's true—"

"Hmph?!"

Qian Youde had meant to say that the matter might actually be true, but seeing his father glare back with furious eyes, he hurriedly lowered his head and corrected himself:

"Perhaps younger brother was simply hoodwinked by that Daoist priest. Unlike us, you traveled across all four prefectures in your early years, and you must have seen many charlatans wield their deceptive arts to perfection."

"Younger brother lacks your experience and insight, so naturally he was unable to withstand it."

This series of remarks both excused his younger brother and elevated his father.

Naturally, this smoothed out the anger in Qian Dafu's chest considerably.

"What you say is also true.正好 use this incident to teach your foolish younger brother a lesson."

Before Qian Youde could even breathe a sigh of relief, however, the three martial arts retainers who had accompanied his younger brother to Qingxian strode into the courtyard with beaming faces.

Meeting him head-on, they unhooked the long sabers from their backs, offered them up with both hands, and shouted:

"Master, the Second Young Master has procured a divine, treasured saber for the family!"

Oh no!

Qian Youde's heart sank. Why did they have to arrive at a time like this?

"What? How much did it cost?"

Qian Dafu was even more startled.

Procured?

Surely the boy hadn't been scammed to the point of selling off the household property!

"It was merely five thousand taels of silver!"

The martial artist was truly reporting good news, because in his understanding:

Money lost could always be earned back, but where could one ever exchange silver for a treasured blade capable of slaying monsters and spirits?

As for Master Qian, he nearly fainted on the spot.

Yet, forcing himself to hold on to his breath, he walked up to the martial artist and snatched the ghost-head broadsword right out of his hands.

He examined it up and down, left and right, but could not find a single remarkable thing about it.

At that moment, the last shred of wishful thinking in Qian Dafu's heart completely vanished.

Following closely behind was an endless, overwhelming fury.

"You spent five thousand taels just to buy this piece of junk?!"

The martial artist was also greatly startled, exclaiming:

"Master, you don't understand, this truly is a divine treasure!"

"A treasure your grand-uncle's head!"

In the grip of his blinding rage, Qian Dafu hurled the unremarkable ghost-head broadsword aside.

As fate would have it, the blade flew straight and true, embedding itself squarely into the wooden pillar by the doorway.

"I'm telling you, no one is allowed to touch this sword! I am going to make that unfilial wretch return and kowtow here for the monstrous folly he has committed until his head bleeds!"

With those words, Qian Dafu clutched his chest and collapsed in agony.

Throwing the household into a panic, the servants rushed forward to support him, and no one dared to mention the ghost-head broadsword or the supernatural occurrences in Qingxian ever again.

They could only scramble to carry Qian Dafu back to his room to rest.

Even after the physician revived him by piercing his skin with silver needles, the very first thing Qian Dafu did upon opening his eyes was to grab his eldest son's hand, crying out in bitter, heart-rending despair:

"Five thousand taels! That was five thousand taels of hard silver!"

Putting on a brave face, Qian Youde tried to comfort him:

"Father, perhaps that saber truly possesses supernatural properties, and it is merely our mortal eyes that fail to perceive its true nature—"

Qian Dafu immediately cursed:

"You're starting with this as well? Tell me, what on earth can that wretched blade do?!"

Daring not to speak further, Qian Youde could only hold his father's hand and keep vigil in silence.

-----------------

Outside the city at the tea stall, as the sun sank westward and he reckoned no more guests would arrive, the innkeeper laid down his account book and began clearing away the tables and chairs by himself.

His two assistants had already left.

Both were young men who had recently married; how could they possibly stay here keeping watch with a grown man all the time?

Thus, the innkeeper had sent them home early to be with their wives.

Yet, just as he lowered his head to tidy a table,

he caught sight of several pairs of dust-stained, long-shafted boots standing just beyond the dim, flickering halo of the dusk lantern.

Lifting his gaze, he was abruptly met with a dozen soldiers surrounding a towering man clad in heavy iron armor.

"Ai-yo, soldiers, are you here for tea or would you like some food? My humble shop may not be large, but I can certainly whip up some noodles!"

Who would have guessed that the moment these words left his mouth, both the somewhat dazed soldiers and the commanding officer at their head would instantly change countenance, demanding:

"You... you can see us?"

The innkeeper blinked in confusion:

"Aren't you standing right in front of me?"

Amidst the innkeeper's bewilderment, the officer and the soldiers exchanged glances. Then, the officer said to him:

"Then please cook a bowl of noodles for each of us. Hometown noodles—we haven't had them in a long, long time."

"Right away, I guarantee they'll be authentic Qingzhou noodles!"

Chuckling cheerfully, the innkeeper stepped into the back room, completely unaware that outside, the soldiers remained motionless within the dim twilight of the lantern—never lighting a lamp, nor stepping indoors.

The night wind blew with a desolation beyond words, and the iron armor gleamed with the scarlet stain of rust.