Li Xiaobai showed no signs of anything unusual from start to finish, as though the embroidered brocade pouch in his hand, adorned with a colorful cloud-serpent pattern, was merely an ordinary money bag filled with silver coins, without the slightest hint of peculiarity.
What was going on?
Ma Fei Anlu couldn't make sense of it. He continued to tightly grip his straight sword, pointing it at Li Xiaobai as he demanded, "How did Da Qingya die? Was it you?"
The pouch, which appeared utterly unremarkable, and a young man of delicate features, a seemingly well-bred gentleman, yet Anlu couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, though he could not find a single suspicious clue.
"I was standing this far away, didn't move, and never touched him. Of course it wasn't me. Perhaps he had an underlying condition that suddenly flared up," Li Xiaobai spoke the truth plainly, while weighing the pouch in his hand. He looked at Anlu and asked, "So, do you still want this pouch? If not, I must continue on my way."
There was not the slightest trace of fear or tension in his tone as though he were not being robbed, but rather offering charity with a loaf of dry bread.
"Yes, how could I not want it? Toss it over here!"
How could he let the wealth slip through his fingers, especially such a large windfall? Anlu immediately called out.
Perhaps Da Qingya had some ailment after all, who would turn down money?
"Catch!"
Li Xiaobai tossed the pouch back to him once more, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.
What use is boasting or brandishing a knife? Intelligence, after all, is far more valuable.
Just watch—within a few words, one was dead, and another was already queuing up for the same fate.
Men of such poor wits were bound to be led astray; it came as no surprise.
Silver!
Quickly reaching out to catch the heavy brocade pouch, Anlu's mind was consumed by thoughts of money. He forgot completely about his fallen comrade and eagerly thrust his hand into the pouch, intent on savoring the pleasant weight of the silver.
A sudden sharp pain pricked his fingertips, and his consciousness began to fade rapidly. The last thought to cross his mind was that there was something wrong with the pouch!
A small greenish snake emerged from the opening, glancing at Li Xiaobai with a look that seemed almost accusatory, before retreating back inside the pouch.
"I was sleeping just fine, and then some strange hand came poking around. I'm quite upset—this will have serious consequences."
"This was an accident!"
With a tone of regret, Li Xiaobai took back the pouch from Anlu's now stiffened hands and re-tied it to his waist, as though the matter were concluded.
Looking at the two bandits, one might think they were frozen in the posture of the "Gangnam Style" horse-riding dance. A sense of absurd humor arose.
How fitting for professionals to die with such flair—what a learning experience.
He gave a thumbs-up, spontaneously offering his approval.
With both bandits dead, their horses, weapons, and stolen silver were now left without masters.
He pushed their now bluish, lifeless bodies from their horses and dragged them to the roadside, placing them back-to-back in a stylized pose. Li Xiaobai then turned his gaze toward the distance, and, unsurprisingly, spotted a sneaky figure lurking about.
With hands cupped in front of his mouth, he called out, "Old man, it's all clear now! Come back!"
He even waved to signal safety.
After a long pause, the cart driver cautiously confirmed Li Xiaobai's words, and, with a shiver, emerged from his hiding place. Muttering to himself, he remarked, "What happened here? Could it be that Li Xiaolang used some kind of divine power to send these two scoundrels straight to hell?"
As he walked, he eyed the ox cart and the young man waving at him, prepared to flee at a moment's notice.
For men who killed without hesitation, the cart driver shared the same hatred. Yet, given his age and frailty, he had no means to resist. When the bandits had first attacked, he had abandoned others to save himself.
Reflecting on it now, he felt deeply ashamed.
As he drew closer, he was struck with terror upon seeing the two bandits, still frozen in their last posture, crouching with their backs to each other. He collapsed onto the ground in shock and trembled, pointing at the bodies.
"The... they..."
"Old man, don't worry. They're dead!"
Li Xiaobai's voice carried a strange calming effect, and the cart driver, now slightly steadied, noticed the odd greenish-black hue around the bandits' hands, necks, and faces, their expressions frozen in death. He breathed a sigh of relief, his heart finally calming.
He swallowed hard, struggling to tear his gaze away.
The cart driver, still in disbelief, looked at the young man in white sitting serenely in the cart as though nothing had happened.
"Xiaolang, what... what happened here?"
There was no sign of a struggle or combat, and yet the two bandits had died so silently and mysteriously. The cart driver felt a chill run down his spine, realizing that this young gentleman, seemingly harmless, was perhaps even more terrifying than the bandits themselves.
"They may have had underlying health issues that suddenly flared up," Li Xiaobai smiled faintly, effortlessly lying without missing a beat.
He glanced at the cart driver and, with a kind reminder, added, "Old man, your money."
"Ah!"
The cart driver startled, looking down to see the copper coins he had earlier offered for his life still lying undisturbed on the ground.
The two bandits, having robbed so much in Xiyan Town, had never even spared a glance for these coins. Thankfully, the small sum meant for his grandchildren's clothing hadn't been lost. He hurriedly picked them up and stuffed them into his pocket, bowing gratefully to Li Xiaobai.
"Thank you, Xiaolang! Thank you, Xiaolang!"
"No need to be polite, old man. Let's get moving," Li Xiaobai gave a slight nod, not overly formal.
"Xiaolang, they... those two..."
The cart driver hesitated, uncertain whether to report the deaths to the authorities.
Just then, a strange rustling sound echoed from nearby, and the sand and gravel on the ground began to tremble.
A distant rumble of thunder echoed ominously across the sky.
Turning his eyes toward the source of the noise, the cart driver's eyes widened in horror, and he let out a strangled scream. Once again, he abandoned his cart and Li Xiaobai, running for his life.
"My goodness! More bandits are coming!"
Having been bitten by a snake once, he feared even the rope used to draw water. After barely escaping with his life from the previous two bandits, a whole new group was rapidly approaching. From the sounds, it seemed to number at least dozens. Without hesitation, he fled once more.
This time, however, his conscience stirred. After running a few dozen steps, he turned back to shout, "Xiaolang, run!"
Li Xiaobai turned toward the direction the cart driver was looking but remained unmoving.
"Run! Run!"
The cart driver's voice cracked with urgency as he shouted from a distance.
A dark cloud of riders appeared on the horizon, surrounding the ox cart with alarming speed.
These bandits were no ordinary ragtag group; their armor gleamed, and they looked like a disciplined military unit, clearly the official soldiers the two previous bandits had feared.
"This young gentleman, are those two bandits?"
The leader of the cavalry, who appeared to be a man of discernment, had noticed something odd even before the order was given to encircle the cart. The two figures, standing in such strange postures by the roadside, clearly matched the appearance of bandits, but upon closer inspection, their faces were grotesquely blackened, their bodies stiff—dead.
With the reins of two horses tied to the back of the cart, two straight swords and several bulging bundles lay inside. When the cavalry captain turned his gaze back to the calm and collected young man in white, it all made sense.
The two reckless bandits had evidently picked the wrong target and met their untimely end.
However, the young gentleman in white, who appeared so unremarkable, seemed far from what one might expect from the tales of great figures. Whatever method he had used, it had caused the two bandits' deaths to be as bizarre as they were swift.
Li Xiaobai, ever composed, cupped his hands in greeting and said, "Indeed, they were bandits—one called Da Qingya, the other Anlu."
The cavalry captain, still cautious, kept a hand on the hilt of his sword and asked, "May I inquire your name, young sir, where you come from, and where you are headed?"
This inquiry, though seemingly blunt, was actually a careful probe into Li Xiaobai's identity. Should he prove to be of questionable background, the situation could quickly escalate into yet another battle.
"I am Li Xiaobai, from Xiyan Town, en route to Suiye City for my studies. Here is my travel permit, please, examine it."
With an easy gesture, he produced the travel pass issued by the county magistrate and handed it to the captain.
A travel pass, essentially a letter of introduction written on sheepskin, certified the bearer's identity, gender, origin, and purpose of travel. Thanks to the influence of the Li
family, a prominent household in the town, and a bit of luck, Li Xiaobai had secured this pass. It allowed him to travel freely across the counties, only restricted from crossing the border.
The Great Wu Dynasty had long been generous toward scholars, and officials were quick to issue such passes, offering both safe passage and lodging at government inns.
Seeing the official seal, the captain's last doubts dissolved. He signaled to his men, and the encirclement immediately loosened, the tension evaporating.
Though the captain's gaze remained fixed on the ox cart, he hesitated for a moment before cupping his hands in a respectful salute, saying, "Young sir, I have an...unusual request."
Recognizing that this young scholar had the upper hand, the captain spoke with a tone of humility, even forgoing his usual formal title in favor of a respectful "I" when addressing Li Xiaobai.