After Mei finished whatever had been occupying her in the kitchen—something that smelled richly of herbs and slow-cooked meat—she wiped her hands on her apron and led Kai and his companions upstairs. The rooms were sparse, as expected: wooden floors worn smooth by years of use, a narrow bed in each, a small table with a chipped ceramic washbasin, and a single candle in a rusted holder. But to travelers who had spent weeks sleeping on hard ground beneath open skies, it might as well have been a lord’s manor.

  Lu Bu didn’t even wait for Mei to finish explaining where they’d be staying before he threw himself onto the nearest bed with an undignified whump, arms and legs splayed like a starfish. "A bed! A real, actual bed!" he exclaimed, muffled by the thin mattress. "I thought I’d forgotten what they felt like!"

  Gin immediately claimed the bed nearest the door—strategic positioning, Kai noted—and stretched out with a satisfied groan. "No rocks digging into your back, no roots trying to strangle you in your sleep… Nothing beats it." He laced his fingers behind his head and closed his eyes, as if already halfway to dreamland.

  Kai shook his head, though he couldn’t suppress a small smile. "Make yourselves comfortable. I’ve got some things to take care of."

  Lu Bu bolted upright. "Where are you going? Can I come?"

  "No," Kai said, already moving toward the door. "Just picking up supplies. You stay here and make sure Gin doesn’t embarrass himself."

  Gin cracked one eye open. "Your faith in me is truly touching."

  "I’ll make sure he doesn’t drink too much while you’re gone!" Lu Bu declared, pointing an accusing finger at Gin.

  "I don’t drink because I want to, but because I have to," Gin retorted. "Which, I drink only as much as I need."

  Kai sighed. "Just… try not to burn the place down." With that, he slipped out, leaving the two to their bickering.

  Downstairs, he found Mei back in the kitchen, stirring a pot with the same single-minded focus as before. He considered asking her about supplies, but she seemed engrossed in her work, and he wasn’t keen on interrupting.

  No matter, he thought, stepping out into the crisp air. The marketplace is right there. Someone’s bound to trade.

  The square was still quiet, but a few more villagers had emerged—a huntsman with a brace of rabbits slung over his shoulder, an old woman selling bundles of dried herbs, a pair of children chasing each other between the stalls. Kai adjusted the weight of his leather bag, Yinying’s invisible presence a reassuring weight on his other shoulder.

  Kai's gaze swept across the sparse marketplace before settling on the fur trader—a grizzled man with a thick wolf-pelt coat draped over his broad shoulders and a thin scar running along his chin like a misplaced stitch. The man sat behind his stall, idly rearranging a spread of fox pelts and cured hides.

  Perfect, Kai thought, adjusting the weight of his pack. Since that corrupt merchant Sato had swindled him back in Wuyuan City, his stock of quality leathers had only grown heavier since then, and he was eager to lighten the load. If anyone in this city would recognize their value, it would be a hunter.

  He approached the stall with an easy stride, nodding in greeting. "Fine pelts you've got here," he remarked, eyeing the goods. "Ever in the market for more? I’ve got some prime leathers—durable, well-treated. Could fetch a fair price in the right hands."

  Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

  The man looked Kai up and down, his expression as unreadable as weathered stone. After a long pause, he shook his head. "Not buying. Just selling." His voice was rough, like gravel underfoot.

  Kai exhaled through his nose, disappointed but unsurprised. "A shame. Do you happen to know someone else willing to buy?" He let the words hang, testing for any flicker of interest.

  The trader snorted, rubbing his scarred chin. "If I knew someone buying, I wouldn’t be here waiting for customers." He gestured vaguely at the near-empty square. "Spring’s the worst time for furs. Folks are scraping coin together for seed and grain, not hides. Come summer, when the harvest looks good and coin’s looser. Then they’ll start thinking about winter coats."

  Kai frowned. That made sense—survival came before comfort in these parts. Still, he wasn’t ready to give up. "No one at all? Not even a tanner or an armorer looking for sturdy material?"

  The man gave him a flat look. "Tanner’s dead. Armorer already bought a bunch of my leathers for the next month. You want my advice?" He leaned forward. "Either hold onto those leathers till midsummer, or try your luck farther south. Only fools and the desperate buy furs this time of year."

  Kai’s jaw tightened. He didn’t have time to wait for seasons to change, and backtracking wasn’t an option. "Guess I’ll have to find a fool, then," he muttered.

  The trader chuckled. "Good luck with that. Only fool around here is Pei, and he wouldn’t know good leather from bad."

  Kai exhaled sharply through his nose. The marketplace remained stubbornly quiet, its few patrons more concerned with sacks of grain and salted meat than cured hides. He turned back to the fur trader, his hand resting on the straps of his pack before looking back at the fur trader.

  "I’m not looking to haggle. I’ll sell at a loss—just need supplies for the road."

  The trader studied him again, his gaze lingering on Kai’s worn boots and the bag at his side. Something in the man’s expression shifted—not pity, but recognition. The look of someone who’d been on the wrong side of desperation himself.

  He sighed, scratching at the scar on his chin. "Look, if you’re truly that hard-pressed, I’ll take some off your hands. But don’t expect much." He leaned forward, elbows on the stall. "Coin’s tight this season, and I won’t lie—I’d be doing you no favors with the price I can offer."

  Kai blinked. That was… unusually forthright. Most merchants, whether mortal or cultivator, would’ve seized the chance to bleed him dry. But this man wasn’t some silk-robed schemer; he was a hunter first, his honesty as rough-hewn as his furs.

  "Fair enough," Kai said, shrugging off his pack. "I’ll take what I can get."

  The trader grunted. "Then let’s see what you’ve got."

  Kai reached for his bag. His fingers had just brushed against the bundled leathers when a glint of gold caught his eye. His stomach lurched as he peeled back the flap slightly—just enough to confirm his horrified suspicion.

  What in the—?

  He snapped the bag shut with a sharp inhalation, his pulse suddenly roaring in his ears. The movement was too quick, too stiff, and the fur trader's bushy eyebrows shot up in confusion.

  "I-I'm terribly sorry, sir," Kai stammered, forcing his voice steady even as his mind raced. "Seems I've mixed up my bags. Must've left the one with my wares back at the inn. If you'll... excuse me for a moment."

  The trader's weathered face scrunched in bewilderment. "Uh... sure?"

  Kai didn't wait for further questions. He turned on his heel, walking at a measured pace until he was several stalls away—then his stride quickened, his boots scuffing against the hard-packed earth. The bag at his side suddenly felt impossibly heavy, its weight far beyond mere leathers.

  This isn't possible.

  He cut a sharp glance around the square. No one seemed to be watching him—just the usual scattering of townsmen haggling over meager goods, a pair of children chasing a scrawny dog, an old woman sweeping her stoop. Still, his skin prickled with the sensation of unseen eyes.

  The moment he spotted a narrow alley between a chandler's shop and a boarded-up storefront, he ducked into its shadow. Pressed against the rough wooden wall, Kai finally let himself breathe.

  Check again. Maybe you imagined it.

  One last scan of his surroundings—empty. With trembling fingers, he loosened the bag's drawstring and peered inside.

  The sight stole his breath.

  Within the bag lay gleaming gold bars, the surfaces stamped with unfamiliar characters. Beneath it were jewels—rubies the size of his thumbnail, emeralds cut with precision no northern backwater could achieve, and pearls that shimmered like captured moonlight.

  This is a noble's ransom.

  His blood ran cold. These weren't just misplaced valuables—they were the kind of treasure that got men killed.

  But, for the life of him, he had no idea where these treasures came from.

  Patreon! You can read chapters early by becoming a patron.