Chapter 190: Highway Robbery

Bai Lang watched the two people ride off on horseback, kicking up dust. "Your martial skill is decent, but why rush to reincarnate like that?" He had no dust on his person; when his internal force flared and subsided, not a speck of dust could settle. Initially he had been walking opposite the convoy, but after checking the sky, Bai Lang approached the convoy and stood before an old man who looked fairly amiable. "Sir, how far is the next relay station? If we can't reach it before nightfall, I'll have to turn back and find lodging."

After the old man spoke, Bai Lang decided to turn back to whatever place called Double Tower Fort to find lodging. Not long after turning, Bai Lang saw two horses galloping past. "What's this? Rushing to reincarnate? Even if this is a major road, galloping at night is practically suicide!" the person said, obviously addressing the old man on horseback and the girl dressed as a boy beside him.

The Qing colonel escorting the convoy was also quite wary; seeing Bai Lang approach, he rode over and shouted for him to move aside. "You've disturbed the commandant's wife, you scoundrel—do you want to die?" Bai Lang laughed loudly, sidestepped on his mule without a word, and couldn't be bothered to pay further attention; whether the old man and the girl would answer him, Bai Lang didn't care.

He roughly recalled this scene, seemingly the so-called thousand-mile dragon head ceremony—just a gimmick, nothing more. Bai Lang also found an inn, which happened to be where the convoy was staying; the upper rooms were still vacant, so renting one wouldn't inconvenience the convoy's nobles.

Even if the colonel were ruthless, he couldn't very well stop others from lodging—he had indeed considered it, but after Bai Lang dismounted from his mule and straightened, with a crack-crack of his joints, the colonel instinctively shrank back. Bai Lang was now quite tall and wore a sword and an iron cudgel at his waist, looking formidable. If one provoked such a strongman, the colonel himself wouldn't mind, but if a conflict injured the commandant's wife and daughter, his career would be over.

Bai Lang also sensed the old man and the girl dressed as a boy deliberately sizing him up. "They probably spotted the aura of a generation's strongman from some clan and need to be extra cautious." Likely they noticed Bai Lang's bandit aura, or perhaps it was because the old man and girl saw his face clearly for the first time.

Bai Lang's visage could be described as exceptionally heroic: a full beard, arched brows, tiger eyes flashing might—like a top-tier fierce general. The girl in male attire glanced at him and dared not stare further, whereas the old man, after a look, wore a strange expression. "He must have noticed the backing behind that clan."

Indeed, Bai Lang had no braid hanging behind him—most people might not notice, but this old man's martial skill is excellent, his eyesight superb, and he observed that Bai Lang wasn't wearing his braid coiled on his head.

Bai Lang saw no need to chat further with them; he had the attendant lead him to the upper room, saying, "Send a bucket of hot water for the master to wash up, and by the way, ask if you have a laundress to wash this officer's clothes, and also bring up a fine meal and wine." After speaking, he casually took a silver ingot from his pack and tossed it over, saying, "The extra is a tip!"

The attendant immediately pattered off to prepare things. Bai Lang laughed and didn't bother to take off his bamboo hat—there was no need to provoke trouble before the attendant brought up the items.

Several servants brought up hot water, quickly filling the wooden tub and laying out food and wine on the table. Bai Lang casually threw out a string of cash—Tartar copper coins he didn't want to keep, so he tipped the lot of these common folk, then told them to all go out and lock the door; at the same time he declined the attendant's suggestive glances offering to arrange a "bed warmer" for him.

Bai Lang took off his bamboo hat, cleared the table's food and drink in a sweep like wind sweeping away lingering clouds, then stripped and stepped into the bath. As he soaked comfortably, he heard hoofbeats and caught every word spoken by the two who entered the inn—given Bai Lang's Innate Expert martial prowess, if he wished, no conversation in the place could escape his eavesdropping.

"Ah, just the usual jianghu folk. Anti-Qing? They don't even dare keep their hair—rebelling against a measly Qing!" Bai Lang listened a while, then grew tired and, still in the water, lifted his head. "Little lady, sneaking outside to listen at walls, watching men bathe—watch out for getting needle-pricked in the eyes!" he said. Only the soft patter of light footsteps sounded a few times; the girl in male attire had already fled far off. Bai Lang couldn't help but chuckle.

Bai Lang put on his bamboo hat and dressed, then the attendant and servants came to clear the water bucket and dishes, and took his clothes off to wash and dry. After they left, Bai Lang prepared to sleep, but heard hoofbeats again—the two who had entered the inn hurried out, apparently intending to travel all night.

The next day Bai Lang rose early, without exchanging greetings with the girl or the old man—after all, they were mere passing acquaintances; true forgetfulness in the jianghu is what matters. He simply took the clothes the attendant had washed and dried, mounted his mule, and left—of course, before departing he didn't forget to buy a stack of smoked meat pancakes and several large jugs of water for provisions on the road.

Bai Lang's path diverged from the convoy's; after less than half an hour, he saw two horses racing up from behind. As they brushed past, he saw they carried a pair of middle‑aged twin brothers, dull as could be—he sensed the kind of boring people they were.

Continuing on, less than half an hour later a voice rang out ahead: "Our martial vigor rises..." That was the escort bureau's rallying cry, meant to warn brothers on the road not to engage in banditry. In this line of work, martial skill counts less than familiarity with heads—Bai Lang knew that too—but his state, Great Yan, had no escort bureaus, only official relay stations, so he curiously rode his mule slowly toward the source to have a look.

Taking a look, the escort bureau was exactly as expected: the escorts had weasel‑like, rat‑like faces, the banner reading "Our martial vigor rises" flew on the wagons, and convoy guards flanked the lines of wagons on all sides. Bai Lang stroked his pack, smirking, "I was just wondering where to rustle up money for weapons, armor, and horses—lo and behold, someone's delivering it straight to my door."

From the wagon tracks one could tell the load was light, while the escorts largely guarded the man in the middle with a red bundle—evidently the valuables were inside. Bai Lang trotted over on his mule and called out, "Friend, lend me some cash to spend; don't worry, I won't pay you back."

Bai Lang, now grown tall, naturally straightened his body to move in and rob the escort. Seeing his fierce appearance, the escort company abandoned any talk of tolls and all shouted a charge at this lone bandit. Mountain strongmen who dominate a region can be bought off, but a solitary marauder is another matter—better to kill him and report to the authorities than to pay protection.

"Good, good, good—he's got money and a horse, a real fine fellow!" Bai Lang laughed heartily, stepped down from his mule, and with a tap of his toe sprang forward like a tiger among sheep.