The first light of dawn crept through the wooden slats of Zhao Ming’s room as he finished his final preparations. His belongings were packed, his travel supplies secured, and his mind was set on the journey ahead. He took a deep breath, steadying himself for what lay beyond.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. It was his teacher, standing with a solemn yet approving expression.

"Zhao Ming, the road ahead is uncertain, but remember this—knowledge and wisdom are more valuable than any blade. Observe, listen, and act only when necessary."

Zhao bowed deeply. "I will remember, teacher."

Murong Jin entered next, holding a small bundle of letters. "These are for some acquaintances in Anxi. Should you find yourself in trouble, they may offer you assistance. Consider this a small gesture of goodwill from our family."

Zhao accepted the letters with gratitude. "I appreciate this, Senior. I will handle them with care."

Outside, Murong De awaited him near the caravan. "The merchants are ready to depart," he informed Zhao. "It’s best to leave while the roads are still clear."

Before mounting his horse, Zhao turned to find Murong Xue approaching. She held out a small pouch.

"This is for you," she said. "Dried fruit and medicinal herbs—good for long journeys."

Zhao hesitated before accepting it. "Thank you, Miss."

She then pressed a jade token into his palm. "My sect token. If you ever need help, show this to any disciple of the Azure Dragon Sect."

Zhao clenched the token tightly. "I will treasure it."

As he turned to leave, three familiar figures approached. Guan Yu, Liu Bei, and Zhang Fei stood before him, their usual energy subdued.

"Brother Zhao," Guan Yu spoke first, his deep voice steady. "May our paths cross again."

Liu Bei nodded. "The world is vast, yet fate is unpredictable. Keep your wits about you."

Zhang Fei grinned, clapping Zhao’s shoulder. "Don’t forget to drink with us when we meet again!"

Zhao smiled. "I look forward to it."

With parting words exchanged, Zhao mounted his horse and rode toward the caravan. The journey had begun.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

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The caravan consisted of merchants, guards, and travelers—all bound for Anxi. As the convoy moved along the well-trodden road, Zhao took the opportunity to observe those around him.

The guards, seasoned and vigilant, rode at the flanks. One of them, a bearded man named Qian, rode beside Zhao and struck up a conversation.

"First time traveling with a caravan?" Qian asked.

Zhao nodded. "I usually travel alone, but this route seems safer."

"Safe, yes, but tensions are rising. Anxi is a key trade city, and everyone wants a piece of it."

Zhao took note of his words. "Is there any immediate threat?"

"For now, patrols keep the roads clear," Qian said. "But unrest brews beneath the surface. Bandits may not be our only concern."

Zhao thanked him for the insight. It was clear that this journey would be more than just a simple trip.

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As the sun neared its zenith, the caravan approached a dense forest. The air grew heavy with silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves.

Ahead, a group of people emerged from the woods. Women, children, and the elderly stood in ragged clothing, their expressions weary. A handful of thin, exhausted men stood among them, their posture wary but not hostile.

The caravan leader raised a hand, signaling the guards to stay alert. One of them approached the group cautiously.

Moments later, the guard returned. "They are refugees," he reported. "Their village was attacked by bandits. They seek shelter in Zhou County."

The leader sighed. "Give them some water. We’re close to the next village."

Barrels were brought forward, and the refugees gratefully accepted small rations of water. Zhao dismounted and approached a group of children, offering them dried fruit from his pouch.

A woman, weary yet dignified, bowed her head. "You are kind, young sir. May fortune guide your path."

Zhao only nodded, watching as the caravan resumed its journey, leaving the displaced souls behind.

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By nightfall, the caravan reached a small village and decided to rest at an inn. The main hall buzzed with voices as merchants and travelers settled in.

Zhao found an empty seat at a long table where a broad-shouldered man was finishing his meal. As the innkeeper served tea, the man raised an eyebrow.

"A young scholar among traders? Unusual sight."

Zhao smiled slightly. "Traveling to Anxi."

The man chuckled. "Name’s Dian Wei. Caravan guard, mercenary when needed. Heading toward Xu Chang."

Zhao studied him. Dian Wei radiated confidence, his muscular frame evidence of countless battles.

A tavern girl passed by, and Zhao took the chance to ask, "Any interesting rumors from Anxi?"

She glanced around before whispering, "Talk of conflicts rising. The city may not be as peaceful as it seems."

Dian Wei grunted. "Hah! Trouble is always brewing somewhere. That’s why men like me never go hungry."

Laughter and music filled the room as courtesans sang a soft melody. In one corner, a dice game gathered a crowd of gamblers.

Zhao finished his tea. "Enjoy your wine, Brother Dian. I’ll retire for the night."

Dian Wei raised his cup in farewell. "Rest well, scholar. You’ll need it."

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Outside, the cool night air carried murmurs of life—drunken mercenaries stumbling, beggars scavenging for food, and courtesans whispering under lantern-lit balconies.

Zhao passed by the caravan leader, who gave him a nod. "We leave at first light. Anxi is close. Get some rest."

With a final glance at the moonlit sky, Zhao entered his room and lay down. His journey had just begun, and challenges awaited beyond the horizon.

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End of Chapter 8