Notice of Leave of Absence

Chapter 17: The Equestrian Beggar (Free Chapter)

The Weapon Smithy street was not particularly long. After all, situated on the shores of the East Sea, it seemed far removed from warfare—or at least, this was not a theater of conflict. Consequently, wealthy families preferred to spend extra money on valuable, appreciative items to enhance their refined tastes, while ordinary citizens were more inclined to buy a few extra utility items to provide some basic security for their lives. Very few people actually bought weapons, and as a result, there were not many weapon shops operating here.

Yan was unlike Wei. People in Wei received militarized training from childhood, imbued with the ideology that the people of Wei were a superior race. Their fanatical passion for weapons and fine steeds far surpassed anything seen in other nations.

At the head of this street was an open space, usually a spot where idle loiterers sat to boast and chat. Beneath several towering ancient trees, a group of people would always be gathered. Some small-scale vendors who could not afford a storefront would squat in this area to set up a stall and sell various goods. Under normal circumstances, the bailiffs would not bother them; from these peddlers, they knew there was no oil to be squeezed.

When Han Qing led Han Mo to this place, he saw that the area beneath a large tree was already packed with people. Three or four circles formed a wide ring, from which came the loud, full-chested neigh of a fine steed. Just by hearing the sound of the horse, Han Mo knew it was an exceptional mount.

The surrounding crowd burst into cheers from time to time. These cheers were clearly elicited involuntarily, which puzzled Han Mo, wondering what kind of wonderful spectacle awaited him inside.

Using the fine physical conditioning he had cultivated over a dozen years, Han Qing easily carved a path through the crowd for Han Mo. Once Han Mo squeezed through, he discovered that right in the middle of the throng, a man was performing equestrian stunts.

The steed possessed a dense mane and a coat of glossy, sleek black. It was robust and tall. Darting lightly back and forth across its back was a lean, small-figured fellow of about twenty-three or four years old. His skin was dark and rough, suggesting a impoverished background—at least the clothes he wore were the kind only beggars would don in East Sea City: tatterdemalion, filthy, and broken beyond recognition.

Yet, this slovenly beggar's horsemanship was truly breathtaking. The horse charged forward and backed away, performing various ultra-difficult maneuvers under the beggar's control. Some of the movements were almost unimaginable; he could even hang by his legs from the horse's neck, engaging in a staring contest face-to-face with the beast, which provoked roaring laughter from the onlookers while making them involuntarily break into applause.

Han Mo did not respect many people in his heart. Those who earned his admiration truly possessed unique attainments and abilities in a certain field. This small-figured, equestrian beggar genuinely stirred a sense of admiration in Han Mo, and he joined the crowd in applauding.

Just as the spectators were dazzled and thrilled beyond measure, the little fellow suddenly reined in the horse, dismounted with a graceful flip, and cupped his fists toward the surrounding crowd in a salute.

Only then did Han Mo clearly see the beggar's face. His sharply angled, chiseled features bore no expression whatsoever, resembling a piece of rock. Even within his deep, dark pupils, there was not a trace of emotion, giving off an intensely chilling sensation.

Han Mo had assumed that after cupping his fists, the beggar would surely deliver a speech begging for tips. Contrary to his expectations, however, the beggar seemed quite poor with words. After the salute, he turned back, picked up a bamboo hat from the ground, cradled it in his hands, and walked to the edge of the crowd. With a wooden yet slightly expectant expression, he looked at the guests before him, hoping to receive a few copper coins in gratuity.

In this day and age, everyone was eager to crowd around a lively spectacle, but when it came to parting with money, everyone avoided it like the plague. As soon as the beggar picked up the bamboo hat, quite a few people scattered. When he extended the hat to ask for tips, the excitement that had just gripped the crowd instantly subsided. After all, the common folk of East Sea City were far from affluent; they could barely spare enough for their own food and clothing, let alone spare money to reward others.

After making a full circle, the beggar had gathered little more than a dozen copper coins.

"Horse-trainer, how much silver for this horse?" asked a young master who appeared somewhat well-off. "Name your price, and I'll buy it with silver."

The beggar simply shook his head expressionlessly, cradled the bamboo hat, and made one more round through the dwindling crowd until he finally arrived in front of Han Mo, extending the hat.

His complexion was sallow beneath its dark tan, and his frame was very slender, making him look somewhat malnourished. His forehead protruded slightly, and his features were utterly ordinary—the kind of person who could be tossed into a crowd without catching anyone's attention.

Han Mo smiled and asked, "You are a grown man with plenty of skills. Making a living by performing on the street and begging for tips like this—don't you feel you are losing face?"

The beggar raised his head, glanced at Han Mo, and replied with a voice as cold as ice, "I work hard for what I do. The silver I earn is not disgraceful!"

"Good!" Han Mo chuckled. "Interesting, very interesting." Just as he was about to grope for silver, he suddenly remembered that he had given all his money to Shopkeeper Han just moments before. He turned to Han Qing and said, "How much silver do you have? Give it all to him!"

Han Qing was startled for a moment, but quickly fished out a tael of fragmented silver and said, "Young master, this is all there is." He dropped it into the beggar's bamboo hat.

The beggar said nothing more. He merely glanced at the Yin-Yang staff in Han Mo's hand, his brow twitching slightly, before turning away.

"Young master, why give him so much silver?" Han Qing asked in a low voice.

Han Mo stroked his chin and said, "He has backbone. Having fallen to this state, he's likely fallen on hard times. A tael of silver might help him out." In his heart, however, he was pondering whether to bring this beggar back to the estate. After all, experts with such miraculous horse-training skills were rare, and bringing him back to teach him horsemanship would be an excellent idea.

Just as he was about to step forward and invite the beggar to sit down at a tavern, he heard someone shouting from behind, "Warden Huang is coming!"

The onlookers scattered instantly. The crowd that had been packed so tightly that not even a drop of water could leak through was now reduced to a sparse handful of people.

A cold smirk tugged at the corner of Han Mo's mouth. This Warden Huang was the head bailiff of the East Sea Prefectural Yamen and could be considered a confidant of East Sea Commandery Governor Xiao Muzan. Furthermore, he was someone Xiao Muzan had brought along from Yanjing when he first assumed office.

Han Mo tugged at Han Qing's sleeve, and the two walked behind a large tree to look into the distance. They saw Warden Huang clad in a bailiff's black uniform, leading three or four subordinates holding executioner staves as he strolled leisurely toward them.

Amidst the crowd, a kind-hearted person called out softly to the beggar, "Horse-trainer, hurry up and ride away. In a moment, you won't be able to leave even if you want to."

The beggar was packing up his belongings when he heard the shout. He actually turned back and offered a faint smile to the person who had warned him. His originally icy visage softened considerably because of that smile.

By the time the beggar finished packing, Warden Huang and his men had arrived. Several bailiffs immediately surrounded the beggar, grinning evilly.

Warden Huang wore a saber at his waist, swaying two steps for every three he walked, his eyes locked greedily onto the fine steed.

After all, he was a man of the world; at a single glance, he recognized that this steed was a genuine Wei horse, and moreover, a top-tier one among Wei mounts. Its stamina and speed were top-notch. If dragged to the horse market, even if sold cheaply, it would fetch two or three hundred taels of silver—a massive treasure indeed.

"Where are you from?" Warden Huang glanced at the beggar and asked indifferently.

The beggar remained like a rock, his face devoid of the slightest expression as he replied calmly, "Wei."

"I knew you were from Wei!" Warden Huang let out a cold chuckle. "Only people from Wei are accustomed to wearing tattered boots like those on your feet."

The boots the beggar wore were indeed quite worn, but they were vastly different from the boots worn in Yan. Aside from being tall and deep, their most conspicuous feature was a curved, rolling arc at the heel, resembling the moon, which looked rather aesthetic.

Warden Huang sized the beggar up a couple more times before continuing, "What brings you to East Sea Commandery?"

"To make a living!"

"Make a living?" Warden Huang sneered. "Could you no longer survive in Wei?"

The beggar raised his head, his brow tightening slightly, and said calmly, "Sir, have I broken any laws of Yan?"

Warden Huang gripped the hilt of his saber and said coldly, "You are a man of Wei, dressed in rags, yet you possess such a top-tier fine horse. What are you plotting in my East Sea Commandery? Heh, could you be a spy from Wei? I've heard that Wei has an agency called the 'Black Flag'. The Black Flag operatives are spread across various nations, gathering intelligence on other countries and secretly disrupting their order. I reckon you are a Black Flag operative."

"I am not!"

"Not?" Warden Huang moved to seize the horse's reins. "That's not up for you to decide. Come along, take a trip with us to the yamen. Whether you are or not, you can explain it to the Commandery Governor."

Before he could touch the reins, the steed suddenly snorted, let out a long neigh, raised its front hooves, and lunged to trample Warden Huang.

Warden Huang was taken aback. Fortunately, he possessed some skill; he rolled on the muddy ground, dodging the horse's fatal stomp. Even so, a heavy rain had just passed, and the ground was already thoroughly mired in mud. Rolling about made his entire outfit caked in filth, looking utterly wretched.

"Damn it!" Warden Huang flushed with anger and shame. "Brothers, beat this Wei spy to a pulp!"

Several bailiffs shouted in acknowledgment and lunged at the beggar without hesitation. Swinging their executioner staves, they rained blows down upon the beggar's head and face. The beggar, however, stood like a rock, refusing to fight back and allowing the staves to batter him like a storm. After just a few strikes, the beggar's forehead was split open, and blood immediately gushed down.

"Young master!" Han Qing clenched his fists, preparing to rush forward, but Han Mo pulled him back, saying softly, "Wait. I want to see how much endurance this fellow has!"