Chapter 33: A Fright

"Are you... the master of this place?"

The man surnamed Bai, a market inspector, scrutinized Li Po with a wary and suspicious gaze.

Li Po’s appearance was far from impressive. His hair was disheveled, and he wore an oversized outer robe that dragged along the floor; every step he took produced a dragging sound, as the boots he wore were clearly too large for him. Furthermore, he looked far too young. Even when clean, his dark, weathered face carried a ruggedness that was the quintessential look of the lowest-ranking commoners in Mayi.

People who worked in the slave market were sharp-eyed. At a glance, they knew Li Po was no one of consequence—a person destined for hardship and toil. Therefore, the inspector did not truly believe that this half-grown boy speaking to him was the new owner of this large house. He was convinced the place was occupied by a group of refugees.

Still, one had to consider that too many things had happened at the market toward the end of this year. First, a refugee camp had been established right next to the market—building a refugee camp beside a slave market was like placing a chicken coop next to a kennel. He did not know what the county magistrate was thinking, but it was an undeniable fact that the number of refugees selling themselves into bondage at the market was increasing. Consequently, petty crimes, thefts, and scams had become rampant. It was difficult to police, and since the authorities in charge of the refugee camp remained silent, the market officials had tacitly turned a blind eye.

What followed next, in his long experience at the market, was a logical progression. Zhang Dalang, who had previously occupied this house, had cultivated many connections and held significant influence in the market, dealing in the largest volume of refugee sales. And so, retribution had arrived: seventeen lives in this house had been whisked away to meet the King of Hell, and in the end, even the house itself had been seized by refugees. If that wasn't retribution, what was?

Thinking of the recent murder case, Inspector Bai shuddered, and any lingering notions he might have had vanished instantly.

What surprised him even more was that the oddly dressed, half-grown boy across from him bowed casually and said, "I am indeed the master of this place. Though... heh, I am only staying here temporarily. And you are...?"

Upon hearing that the man was the official in charge of the market, the smile on Li Po's face widened, and he immediately gestured for the man to step inside. Inspector Bai hesitated, rooted to the spot. "We can just speak here..."

"How can we do that? It's freezing out here, and it's warm inside. Please, come in."

Li Po’s enthusiastic demeanor carried an underlying firmness that made refusal difficult. With a mixture of pulling and gesturing, he ushered the reluctant Inspector Bai into the house.

When the men behind the inspector tried to follow, Li Po blocked the doorway with his shoulder and asked with a smile, "And who might you gentlemen be?"

They were, naturally, no one of importance—merely idlers the inspector had brought along to bolster his courage. Most of them made a living in the market and were curious about what had transpired in this house. Inspector Bai was cautious and easy to talk to, but these idlers cared for no such social graces; whoever wanted to establish a foothold in the market had to be tested.

The man in the lead glared and snapped, "Is the name of your grandfather something you're entitled to ask?" As he spoke, he reached out to shove Li Po.

Li Po, having eaten his fill, was too lazy to move much. He casually deflected the man’s palm and swung a backhanded fist—it looked light, but the force behind it was precise. The man felt a sharp click in his jaw, and his entire head began to ring.

As is well known, the lower jaw is extremely fragile. A strike to this area requires very little force to render a person unconscious, which is why modern boxers take such pains to protect their chins. But how could these idlers understand such biomechanical principles? The man was instantly dazed, his sturdy frame swaying unsteadily.

Li Po caught him and steadied him. "See? I told you this house was a bit eerie. There are certain things here that are particularly fond of people like you—those whose vitality isn't quite strong enough, yet who are still full of pride."

While frightening them, he helped the man inside. The others behind them, having no idea what had actually happened, were already uneasy due to the rampant rumors. Now, they were completely bewildered by Li Po’s words. Another man grabbed the dazed fellow by the waist and dragged him back, shouting, "We're not going in! We're not going in!"

The group of men fled like rats, a sight quite uncharacteristic of the people of Mayi. Li Po slammed the heavy door shut, curled his lip, and muttered, "Superstition—it's truly a bad habit."

With the door shut, peace was restored.

Li Po pulled his robe tighter; it was too large, and the draft that had snuck in earlier made him cold. Inspector Bai also shivered, startled by the sound of the closing door. He had heard what Li Po said, and it filled him with cold dread. Looking at the eyes of the people around him—big and small, all fixed upon him as if calculating how to take a bite—he only wanted to turn and run.

Li Po did not give him the chance. He waved his hand and said, "Everyone who has eaten, go back to your rooms. Li Er, bring a bowl of the 'treasure soup' over here to warm up our friend."

Li Po was not as deferential to this low-ranking market official as he had been to the likes of Yuchi, Sergeant Liu, or Zhang Er. He realized that to gain a foothold here and deter the riffraff, he had to make these people forget he was merely a refugee. He could rely on no one but himself.

In the blink of an eye, the room cleared as the others retreated to their quarters. The large table in the center of the hall had been dismantled, but fortunately, a few chairs remained.

After seating the nervous and weak-willed Inspector Bai, Li Chun quickly brought over a bowl of the so-called "treasure soup"—a steaming bowl of lamb offal. After the earlier commotion, Li Po had settled into the role of a master, and his guest had no choice but to be a guest.

As a hospitable host, Li Po was naturally warm. "Don't worry," he urged. "We don't deal in human flesh here. This is food made from a family secret recipe; it’s the most nourishing thing you could find."

"This is the first batch. It's fresh, but it lacks a bit of depth. Once we have a master stock as a base, it will be different. Do have a taste. Given your years, you must be a man of wide experience—do give us your critique."

By calling him "friend" and speaking in such mundane terms, Li Po sounded just like a cook. Inspector Bai’s heart gradually steadied. The eerie atmosphere of the room seemed to dissipate in his mind as well. After the initial fright and standing out in the cold for so long, he found that he was genuinely hungry.

He looked at the bowl in his hands, sniffed, and peered at the red and white bits inside. He truly could not identify what it was made of.