Chapter 672: Jerusalem: 2

Jerusalem: 2

Yu Lin hoists the Silk, walking along the dust‑filled road toward the city gate.

His steps are neither fast nor slow, but his gaze constantly scans the surroundings.

But.

He stops, then turns and runs away from here.

Because he has just re‑examined his situation.

The knowledge in his mind tells him that in this era, a lone outsider appearing outside Jerusalem with priceless cargo is no different from a lamb entering a wolf pack.

He needs an identity.

He needs a "ticket".

Then, he sees them.

A caravan slowly approaches from the southwest, about twenty people in size, camels and horses mixed together, the camel bells emitting a dull clink in the dry wind.

At the front are three camels, each draped with deep‑red tassels, and on the camel backs sit men whose attire is relatively refined.

The person atop the leading white camel is especially conspicuous—about forty years old, sporting a thick black beard, an eagle‑hooked nose, deep eye sockets, a dark‑red headscarf, and an outer robe of noticeably higher quality than the others.

Behind the camels follow several carts pulled by donkeys, stacked with bundles of cloth, pottery jars, and some indistinct burlap sacks.

On both sides of the convoy, five or six sword‑bearing guards are dispersed.

Their gait appears lax, but they are actually very alert, clearly veterans of the trade routes.

Yu Lin notes that although the guards are armed, they are few and their gear is not especially fine—indicating the caravan is modest in size and middle‑class in wealth, not a grand merchant fleet of nobles.

But precisely because of that, they need to do business even more!

Yu Lin slightly lowers his eyelids, readjusts his grip on the Silk, and continues to walk at an unhurried pace along the roadside, his peripheral gaze fixed on that convoy.

His heartbeat is steady.

Because he has Feather Divine Valor to keep him alive.

If they want to prey on each other........ the best would be a Xiang Yu per person!

He thinks that in his heart.

Yet his face still bears a gentle, harmless expression, like an ordinary outsider who happened to get lost.

The caravan draws nearer.

The white camel snorts, and the man on its back, who had been half‑closed-eyed, enjoys the rare breeze under the scorching noon sun.

They are called Kaya.

Their gaze drifts casually over the pedestrians by the road.

An outsider, wearing a plain linen robe, with rough straw sandals on his feet.

Kaya's gaze is about to slide past—

It stops.

The object in the outsider's arms glistens in the sunlight with a flowing sheen, as if moonlight were crushed and scattered over the cloth!

Kaya's eyelid jerks suddenly.

Instinctively, they sit up straight, the thin lips beneath the eagle‑hooked nose part slightly, and the deep eye sockets' brown‑hazel pupils suddenly focus, the pupils contracting minutely.

Silk.

Unlike the crude knock‑offs cobbled together from scraps that flow in.

It is genuine Silk from Sairis (the name Rome used for China at that time)!

He has seen a high official wear it, and that official only dons the robe on the most solemn occasions!

The young man before him is holding an entire stack!

Kaya's eyes shift, the gaze moving from the Silk to the young man's face.

His facial features are softer than theirs, his skin not especially pale, yet not as rough as that of a desert wanderer worn by sand.

Kaya's mind whirls rapidly.

He knows that at the far east lies a massive empire.

He has heard many rumors about that empire—some say its people have wings, others that its lands flow with gold—merchants' tales are three parts truth, seven parts false, and he only trusts a third.

But one thing is certain: traveling from there to Jerusalem, even via the safest trade routes, requires crossing snow‑capped mountains, traversing deserts, and spanning countless kingdoms and tribes!

This young man, alone, carrying Twelve Bolts of Silk, managed to walk here alive?

Kaya licks his lips, a smile slowly rising at the corner of his mouth.

That smile holds a merchant's shrewdness, and also something he does not yet intend to reveal.

"Huh—"

Kaya lifts his right hand and softly calls out in Aramaic.

The entire caravan slowly halts.

The guards glance alertly at him, then follow his gaze toward the young man by the road. Several guards' hands instinctively grip their sword hilts.

Kaya rolls off the camel, the movement not particularly smooth.

They walk toward Yu Lin, hands clasped before them, bowing slightly.

"May peace be with you," Kaya says, his voice low and resonant, bearing the smooth, friendly tone of someone accustomed to dealing with people,

"I am Kaya, a merchant of Jerusalem, just returned from Yuepa Port."

He pauses, his gaze unabashedly landing on the Silk in Yu Lin's arms, a flash of light in his eyes, then returns to Yu Lin's face,

"Friend, the thing in your arms... is it Silk?"

Yu Lin stops, looking at the middle‑aged merchant who stepped forward.

"May peace be with you, Kaya," he replies in the local tongue, his pronunciation bearing a faint accent that fits his "Eastern visitor" identity without seeming out of place,

"You are right; this is Silk, from the distant East."

Kaya's eyebrows lifted slightly, and a hint of surprise flashed in her eyes.

Silk?

No,

It's because of this young man's attitude!

Alone, he faced a caravan of about twenty people, neither servile nor arrogant, his gaze neither evasive nor provocative, standing steadily there like a rooted tree.

That alone proves his confidence!

"The distant East…" Kaya repeated the phrase, as if savoring its weight, "Forgive my presumption, friend, where do you come from? And what should I call you?"

"I am Yu Lin." Yu Lin nodded slightly, his arm steadily supporting the stack of Silk as if they were as light as feathers, "I come from an empire called the Han Empire."

"Further east than Parthia, over mountains, across deserts, a journey of more than a year."

"Of course, you call it Sairis."

His tone was flat, but the caravan behind Kaya had already erupted into a frenzy.

A young guard opened his mouth wide and muttered in Hebrew, "Sairis… isn't that at the edge of the world?"

Another, slightly older, merchant‑like man stuck his head out from the donkey cart, squinting at Yu Lin, murmuring, "Coming from such a distant place… alone? How could that be possible?"

A few guards exchanged glances, and the hands that rested on their sword hilts unconsciously loosened.

An eighteen‑year‑old young man, alone, crossed ten thousand miles to a foreign land.

Even if he is an outsider, this courage and perseverance deserve the respect of those who make a living on the road year after year!

Kaya was also startled, but she was better at concealing it than her subordinates.

Kaya only widened the eyes slightly, then sincerely nodded, right hand over left chest, bowing a little; this time the courtesy was far deeper than before.

"From Sairis to Jerusalem…" his voice carried a sincere respect,

"Yu Lin, my friend, I've seen many merchants in this world, but you are the first who could complete this route."

He paused, his gaze returning to the Silk in Yu Lin's arms, his eyes becoming gentle yet burning, as if appraising a peerless beauty.

"Silk." Kaya whispered the word lightly, as if savoring fine wine, "I've seen it in Rome, in Damascus, even a small piece in a noble's residence here in Jerusalem."

"But so much, such fine Silk…" he lifted his head, looking at Yu Lin, the smile at the corner of his mouth becoming more sincere,

"Yu Lin, my friend, are you planning to sell these treasures in Jerusalem?"

Yu Lin looked into Kaya's eyes, his smile deepening.

He was waiting for that sentence.

"Yes."

"And all of them."