While the sky had not yet darkened, Yang Ge, leaning on his blade, emerged from the mountain forest. Having only walked two to three miles, he could already see a group of farmers returning with their hoes...
He glanced down at his tattered clothes and decided simply to tear them off and wrap them around the sword and blade he carried on his back. Then, he smeared some dirt on his face and body with great care, striving to make himself look like a refugee fleeing famine, not a troublemaker from the jianghu, lest he frighten anyone.
"Gents, heading home?"
With a beaming smile, he quickened his pace and, from a distance, greeted an old man walking at the back with a bow, saying, "I'm a traveling merchant from Henan, got lost in these woods. Could I trouble you to point me in the right direction?"
The old man set down his hoe and, leaning on it, sized up Yang Ge's disheveled state with a kind gaze and a toothy yellow grin, smiling, "Lad, where are you trying to go?"
