Chapter 168: Chapter 163: The Wuzhu People
"To Master Zhu Shijun, from your disciple, Zhao Lin. It has been several months since our parting, and I miss you dearly..."
Zhao Lin spread out a sheet of paper, saturated his brush with ink, and began writing a letter to his master, Zhu Huaishan.
This world was a spiritual successor to the Huaxia civilization of his past life, and it placed the same importance on respecting one’s master and their teachings.
Zhu Huaishan was the one who had guided him onto the martial path and had always looked out for him in every way.
With his master’s birthday fast approaching, he decided to write a letter to send his regards.
Zhao Lin’s calligraphy wasn’t very good, but since this was a letter to his master, he couldn’t very well ask someone to write it for him. He first composed a draft in his mind, then carefully wrote it out, stroke by meticulous stroke.
He wrote about his time and experiences at the Wuxiang Institute, as well as his progress in the martial arts.
Once finished, he blew the ink dry, placed the letter in an envelope, sealed it with wax, and tucked it inside his robes before heading out and down the mountain.
Having not been down the mountain for several days, Zhao Lin planned to go into the city to visit his parents and, while he was at it, mail the letter.
Before mailing the letter, he also needed to buy some medicinal herbs for a birthday gift.
The Xuanwu Apothecary, by the stone archway.
Zhao Lin walked into the main hall, where an attendant in a green shirt approached him. "Welcome, sir. What can I get for you today?"
Zhao Lin glanced around casually and asked, "Do you carry any prepared medicines for sustaining one’s cultivation?"
When a Blood Realm martial artist reaches old age, their Qi and Blood decline drastically. Their cultivation level begins an irreversible slide until they eventually fall back to the Qi Realm.
Maintaining one’s realm through training alone becomes exceedingly difficult; only by taking medicines that replenish Qi and Blood can this decline be slowed.
The martial path was an expensive one. It wasn’t just about the money spent climbing the ranks when young; even maintaining a respectable level in old age required vast amounts of silver.
In other words, the moment one began practicing martial arts, one started down the path of handing over money to apothecaries.
The attendant understood immediately. "Is this a gift for an elder, sir? May I ask the elder’s age and cultivation level?"
"Almost eighty. Blood Realm."
Zhao Lin answered succinctly.
Zhu Huaishan had never mentioned his exact age, but Zhao Lin had been able to make a rough guess based on various snippets of conversation.
"Very good. Please follow me, sir."
The attendant led Zhao Lin to the right side of the main hall and gestured to a shelf. "For someone of that age, the Hundred-Year Pill and the Thousand Gold Five Replenishing Powder are the most suitable. They’re also our best-sellers."
Zhao Lin had done his research before coming and was familiar with both medicines. "What are the prices?" he asked.
The attendant answered without hesitation. "The Hundred-Year Pill is sold by the box. A box of thirty pills, a one-month supply, costs thirty taels of silver."
"The Thousand Gold Five Replenishing Powder is one dose every three days, and costs two taels of silver."
’So expensive...’
Zhao Lin grumbled inwardly. Between the two medicines, it would cost fifty taels a month.
"I’m a disciple of the Xingyun Sect. Is there a discount?"
The attendant nodded. "Yes, there is. Disciples of the Xingyun Sect receive a five percent discount on purchases over one hundred taels, and a ten percent discount on purchases over five hundred taels."
"Can you make it any cheaper?"
"I’m truly sorry, but that’s the lowest we can go. People from outside the sect don’t get any discount at all."
Zhao Lin thought for a moment. "In that case, I’ll take a three-month supply."
He had originally planned to buy half a year’s worth, but since this was his first time mailing something, he worried about potential mishaps and decided to buy less.
"Excellent. Could I trouble you to show me your sect’s jade token, sir?"
Zhao Lin handed over his jade token. The attendant’s eyebrows shot up in surprise when he saw the insignia of a flying elephant on it, and he quickly called for another clerk to fetch the medicine.
An hour later, Zhao Lin arrived at the post station in the northern part of the city.
The post station was situated about a mile outside the city. It was a small building with a surprisingly spacious courtyard, which was piled high with all sorts of letters and packages.
The lands of the Great Yue were vast. To strengthen communication between its regions, nearly every city had a post station, with express riders on swift horses coming and going daily.
The post stations only handled letters and small parcels. For valuable items or large cargo, one had to hire a professional escort agency.
There weren’t many people at the post station, just seven or eight customers waiting in line. Two clerks sat behind a desk, while a manager stood beside them, barking orders and waving his arms about.
"What is this stuff you’ve got in your bag? It’s too heavy! We can’t mail this. Take it back!"
"Manager, sir, please, can’t you make an exception? If not, I can take half of it out."
"Half won’t work. Stop wasting my time..."
Zhao Lin had just stepped into the courtyard when he saw the manager yelling at a customer, and he couldn’t help but frown.
The manager looked to be in his thirties. He wore a short, round-collared robe and was of average height, with a stocky build and bow legs.
His features were quite distinct: a low brow ridge, a large, straight nose, long, narrow eyes, and a forehead shaved clean and gleaming.
His appearance and dress reminded Zhao Lin of the nomadic peoples from his past life.
"These Wuzhu people... they’re truly worthless!"
The old man standing in front of Zhao Lin muttered under his breath, his tone filled with resentment.
’The Wuzhu people?’
Zhao Lin’s heart skipped a beat when he heard the name.
The dominant ethnic group in the Great Yue was known as the people of the Central Plains. The Wuzhu were a powerful nomadic tribe from the northern steppes with a long and storied history.
From the history books he had read, Zhao Lin knew that in the distant past, the people of the Central Plains and the nomadic tribes were constantly at war. Strangely, however, there had been no major conflicts between them for nearly a thousand years.
’Strange. In my past life, sides like these fought back and forth for thousands of years. How could they be at peace here?’
It didn’t make sense to Zhao Lin, but the books offered no explanation, and no one he had asked could say for sure.
The question had always lingered in his mind, and now, seeing one of the Wuzhu with his own eyes, it resurfaced.
Zhao Lin patted the old man on the shoulder and asked in a low voice, "Sir, did you just say that manager is one of the Wuzhu?"
"Ah!"
The old man jumped, startled. He hadn’t expected anyone to overhear his muttering, but he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it was just a young man of not yet twenty.
"You’ve never seen a Wuzhu before? Are you new to Yan Province?"
"I have indeed only recently arrived in Yan Province. It’s my first time seeing one."
The old man glanced furtively toward the front of the line, then lowered his voice. "Seeing as you’re one of us from the Central Plains, I’ll tell you."
"When I was a young man, the post station here in Yongning City was run by people from the Central Plains. The fees were reasonable, and they treated you well. Then, starting about twenty years ago, they were all suddenly replaced by the Wuzhu, for reasons no one knows."
"These people are unreasonable and they overcharge for everything. Hmph! Barbarians will be barbarians!"
"In the last few years, they’ve even taken over many of the city’s transport companies and merchant guilds."
The old man was clearly quite resentful about the situation, and he continued to air his grievances.
Zhao Lin feigned surprise. "Really? This is the first I’ve heard of it. Isn’t anyone in charge of this?"
The old man curled his lip. "The imperial court doesn’t care, and even though Yongning City is right under the nose of the Xingyun Sect, they don’t care either. It’s just..."
At that, the old man’s gaze fell on Zhao Lin’s clothes, and he immediately clamped his mouth shut.
Zhao Lin thanked him, then lowered his head, lost in thought.
The people ahead of him finished their business one by one, and before long, it was Zhao Lin’s turn.
The Wuzhu manager glanced at the training uniform Zhao Lin was wearing, and his attitude became a fraction more polite—but only a fraction.
He picked up the wrapped package of medicine and weighed it in his hand. "The letter is two taels of silver. For this package... let’s say ten taels."
Zhao Lin raised an eyebrow. "That expensive?"
The Wuzhu manager said nonchalantly, "Ying Province is hundreds of miles from here. Men need to eat, horses need to eat—it all costs money..."
