Chapter 635: Passing Through

The captives lifted their wheelbarrows and set off under the escort of the heroes.

Nosaka Tarō walked with them until eight or nine li beyond the village, only stopping reluctantly when the sun reached its zenith.

The heroes silently turned back to glance once, then silently withdrew their gaze: "Is this what they call mutual understanding?"

"I've often heard the older generation speak of how, in their days roaming thejianghu, they'd meet someone and instantly feel a bond—just one meeting, and they'd risk their lives for each other. But after years on the road, I've never encountered such a person or such a thing."

"Neither have I."

"I'm truly envious."

"How could he trust Pan Yun so completely? We've all only just met."

"Perhaps this is what they call an instant bond…"

"There's no such thing as an instant bond," Pan Yun replied to Qu Le's question. "It's merely reciprocity."

Qu Le glanced at the wheelbarrows everyone pushed, and at the ship's sails still visible behind them, and fell silent.

But…

He looked again, studying them closely, puzzled: "Is that all we have on the ship? That can't be right—I remember we seized a fortune from the Benshan family alone. Where did all that money and goods go?"

Pan Yun's gaze shifted away as she quickened her pace past him. "Don't ask. I've made my own arrangements. Rest assured, you won't be shortchanged in the end."

Qu Le: "We didn't come here for the money… You didn't leave the goods with Nosaka Tarō, did you? Or perhaps…"

He sized her up, hurried after her, and whispered: "Is your space especially large? I bought one too, but I can't use it yet…"

He still couldn't convert his internal energy into yuan energy, let alone open the space with his consciousness.

Seeing his plight, Pan Yun felt sympathy—and suddenly remembered the cultivation method Zhang Liuzhen had created.

She studied Qu Le thoughtfully. "Once we're settled, I'll teach you a new method. It might help you."

Qu Le's eyes lit up brightly: "Really?"

Pan Yun: "Don't get your hopes up. I'm not even sure it'll work."

But Qu Le was already thrilled, convinced he was on the verge of mastering a divine art.

He rubbed his hands together, restless with energy, and sprinted ahead to snatch the wheelbarrows from the two old men, grunting as he pushed them forward.

The two old men, robbed of their task, panicked and immediately placed their hands on the cart, pretending to help, while urgently urging him: "Wakasama, Wakasama, let us do it, let us do it—we can manage ourselves."

Qu Le had learned some Japanese during this time, but only everyday phrases. Hearing them keep saying those two words, he asked: "Who is Wakasama? I'm Qu Le."

The two Japanese stared blankly and pointed at him: "You."

Seeing Miao Zhen passed by his side and glanced at him: "Wakasama means 'Young Master.'"

"... Oh." Qu Le told the two Japanese: "I'm strong—I'll push. I'll switch with you later."

There were only twelve wheelbarrows, and we're many—so we can take turns.

Pan Yun had stored all the heavier items—silver, copper coins, porcelain, lacquerware—inside her space.

What remained outside were merely items meant to deceive the eye: not heavy, not valuable.

What else could they do? They couldn't walk empty-handed, then suddenly produce goods out of nowhere.

Pan Yun lowered her gaze, staring at her toes in thought.

In truth, they were already beyond the jurisdiction of the imperial court and the Celestial Master's Temple; few here were Daoist disciples. Even without concealment…

Pan Yun glanced at the two brocade-clad guards behind Xue Shao, sighed, and abandoned her thoughts. For now, she'd endure it—she'd act as the situation demanded.

Having brocade-clad guards in the party was annoying.

Chen Liutao carried a small notebook, writing and sketching nonstop.

Wang Cong passed by him, then hurried to Pan Yun's side and whispered: "He's drawing maps."

Pan Yun nodded approvingly: "Good. Good. We should record this too—it'll be useful later."

Wang Cong: "I thought the same. Today I saw how lax the Japanese checkpoints are. If I become friends with Nosaka Tarō, I could open this port for our goods. I inquired—the silver here is very pure, of excellent quality. Even if we don't buy their goods, just trading ours for silver could yield a hefty profit per trip."

Pan Yun: "Even you can't resist it. Now I understand why smugglers do what they do."

Wang Cong hurried to say: "Little Master, I swear—I'll only trade goods. I'll never resort to plunder."

Pan Yun nodded: "I believe you. But I trust even more that once you're in the jianghu, you're no longer your own master."

"I ask you—if you sail a ship and someone robs you, what do you do?"

"Fight back! They might not even beat me!" Wang Cong replied without hesitation.

Pan Yun: "If you defeat them, won't you take their cargo? Just like we did to the three Benshan families."

Wang Cong fell silent: "Are you saying… if I sail, I'll eventually become a pirate?"

Pan Yun smiled.

"Then why are you helping me load the ship? Why encourage me to do maritime trade?"

"Fool," Pan Yun said. "I'm telling you to do maritime trade—not smuggling! Commerce should be upright, open, and honorable. Why sneak around?"

Wang Cong muttered: "You speak easily. But legal maritime trade today is only through tribute missions—that's the court's monopoly. Even imperial merchants can't get in. How can I?"

"Besides, many members of the Huangshi Sect, court officials, and southern magnates secretly smuggle maritime goods."

Pan Yun: "So the maritime ban fails to stop Japanese pirates, yet forces people into smuggling—hurting state tax revenue. Better to lift it."

Wang Cong stared at her in surprise: "Little Master, we're just Daoist priests. To meddle in court affairs is harder than governing heaven and earth. How can you just declare this?"

"If this goes well, I really can make your shipping legal," Pan Yun said, patting his shoulder. "So pray to the Three Pure Ones—wish us a smooth journey."

Wang Cong trusted her completely. His eyes lit up. "I'll chant scriptures daily for blessings."

He hadn't had time this morning, but as soon as the group stopped for lunch, Wang Cong washed his hands, found a clean patch of grass, sat cross-legged, and began chanting.

The heroes turned to stare at him.

Gao Zhiming asked Zhang Weiyi beside him: "What is Daoist Wang doing?"

Zhang Weiyi was uncertain: "Practicing his cultivation?"

It sounded a bit like the "North Star Scripture"?

He slightly closed his eyes and settled his mind to listen.

Wang Cong murmured softly, almost without sound, but after Zhang Weiyi calmed his spirit and quieted his breath, he heard it clearly and told Gao Zhiming: "It's the Northern Dipper Scripture—he's doing his recitation."

Gao Zhiming was astonished and impressed: "Do Daoist Priests really recite scriptures daily, even when traveling?"

Zhang Weiyi smiled: "Senior Brother Wang is even more diligent—we fall far short of him."

Whether it was Wang Cong's Northern Dipper Scripture that worked, or whether the Jianren Road brought good fortune, they passed through two checkpoints without any inspections or checks—simply paid money and were let through.

And they didn't pay much.

Until the third checkpoint, after Yi Jianren went out to inquire and returned, he said: "This checkpoint is set up by Yifan Temple; temple checkpoints are usually strict—you must obtain a pass to enter."

(End of Chapter)