"I’m leaving in four days, and I’ll be gone for about a month, maybe longer", he told them. "I’ll get paid when we reach the city, and I’ll leave all the money with you. It should be enough for a month."
"Mm", Xue nodded, her brows knitting again, just like in the old days.
"I taught you how to use the traps, so you won’t go hungry. Just don’t tell anyone about them. Clear?"
"Mm…" Mingzhu lowered her head and nodded faintly.
"If anything happens, ask Auntie Hong Shu for help. Tell her I’ll repay her later. And don’t slack off with your training!"
His words hung over the room like a funeral pall. Mingzhu traced invisible patterns on the rough wooden boards with her finger. Xue stared at the sacks of grain, beans, and dried fruit, as if checking supplies for a long winter. To give them time to think, Zhang Min went out to the yard and scrubbed his clothes clean with soap, preparing for the upcoming job.
For four days he worked as a guard for the Zhao trading house and was well paid. As promised, he left every last coin with the girls and showed them how to use the hiding spot under the floorboards, where, alongside the purse, he also kept the old scroll. Zhang Min himself saw little use for money. Mercenaries were fed for free, and he had no plans to buy anything at the mines.
"You’re leaving tomorrow?" Xue suddenly asked, though she was usually silent.
"Yes."
"Make sure you come back," Mingzhu pleaded. "My sister and I will earn lots of coins. You won’t have to leave again."
"Alright. Now, go to bed."
Early in the morning, Zhang Min woke, quietly gathered his things, but this time he failed to slip away unnoticed. The girls had risen just before dawn to see him off. They followed him outside, stood at the doorway, and watched his back until he vanished from sight. Lips pressed tight, eyes full of tears, they turned back inside.
A line of several dozen loaded wagons slowly left Baohe’s gates and headed for the first destination. They were escorted by a large force of mercenaries flying the Zhao family banners. Among them walked Zhang Min, already imagining how he would spend the money he earned. The sun had only just risen, the summer heat had not yet warmed the road, the air was easy to breathe, and his legs felt no weariness.
By noon, the caravan reached a small village, where the people rested, ate, and watered the horses. When the midday heat had eased, they continued onward, and at nightfall camped under the open sky. At dawn, as soon as the first rays peeked over the treetops, the drivers lined the wagons into marching order, the guards took their posts, and they moved forward again along the endless road stretching to the horizon.
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The following days were nearly identical, like twins. The burning sun hung overhead, wheels creaked, dust rose underfoot, and the air reeked of manure and horse sweat. Flies buzzed around the damp people and beasts, and mosquitoes whined at night. If the scenery hadn’t changed or the villages hadn’t differed slightly from one another, it would have felt as if the same day were repeating again and again.
This time, the convoy was almost entirely composed of mercenaries, and by their looks, seasoned ones. Most belonged to a single organization, something like a private army. They wore matching robes, carried good weapons and armor, and most importantly, followed military discipline. Freelancers like Zhang Min were only added to fill gaps, spread among the already-formed squads. Men of the Zhao family oversaw everything and kept watch over the cargo.
Like everyone else, Zhang Min followed the established routine. He stood watch when needed, gathered firewood, helped with the horses, and behaved amiably. For his diligence and quick wit, the squad’s leader praised him and even offered him a place in their mercenary company. Zhang Min promised to think about it.
Of course, he had his reasons. Experienced warriors knew far more about the work of a mercenary, about weapons, martial arts, body tempering, the mysterious Qi, and the world in general. On the way to the mines, Zhang Min intended to wring as much knowledge as he could from them, and also make connections, though he wasn’t yet planning to join any organization.
"How long have you been a mercenary?" one of the warriors asked.
"Three months", Zhang Min answered, not going into detail.
"And that’s when you started learning martial arts, isn’t it?"
"Sharp eye! That’s right."
"I don’t know if it’s talent or diligence, but you’re doing well. Shame you started late. At your age, it’ll be hard."
"Better late than never, isn’t it?"
"Oh! I’ll remember that. Very wise!" the man slapped his knee. "Better late than never! Hahaha! I like you! My name’s Li Chen."
"Glad to meet you. I’m Zhang Min."
"You’ll have it rough. Tsk. Development is easy only for children. For us old men, without special medicines, it’s impossible to keep up", the mercenary sighed.
Don’t lump me in with old men! Zhang Min bristled inwardly. I could be your son! Sure, the former owner of this body wore it down badly, but I’m sure I’m at most twenty-eight. Not even thirty yet!
"Are those medicines expensive?" he asked.
"Very! They could ruin you. And if they’re made by a famous alchemist, forget it — unless your purse is bursting with gold."
"Where do they sell them? I’d like to at least take a look."
"Mm. There are special apothecaries for martial practitioners, trading houses, auctions… but most order directly from alchemists. Then there’s no doubt about the result. You get what you pay for." Li Chen’s tone grew instructive. "Don’t buy them anywhere shady. They’ll slip you a fake. It’s on newbies like you that swindlers make their living."
"Thank you for the advice!" Zhang Min expressed his gratitude. "Which ones would suit me?"
"At your stage, you’ll need pills or tonics for cleansing and strengthening the body. Otherwise, you’ll never move forward. You’ll be stuck in one place forever."
"Erm… and what stage am I at right now?"
