The journey wasn′t long, the cargo wasn′t heavy, and with such a capable deputy escort chief taking charge, the chief escort was more than happy to stay home and recover from his injuries in peace.

  It was still spring.

  In the morning, the escort convoy set out.

  A year′s pn begins in spring; a day′s pn begins in the morning. It was a great start.

  The escort banners fluttered in the wind, the shouts of the guards echoed high into the sky, and Guo Dalu rode at the front on a rge white horse, dressed in a violet silk robe with a bck-sheathed sword at his side.

  The spring sun had just risen, warming his body with its gentle rays. In the distance, the mountains were a brilliant emerald green, as if freshly washed. High in the trees, swallows busily carried mud to build their nests.

  He felt absolutely delighted and immensely proud.

  He only wished he could run into a few notorious bandits or galnt outws on the road. It wasn't entirely because he wanted to show off his skills or funt his prowess, but rather because he hoped to make more friends.

  The more friends, the better. He loved making friends, and befriending such people would certainly be thrilling and interesting. If he could even reform them and guide them back onto the right path, wouldn't that be even better?

  And indeed, he did run into some.

  Unfortunately, they weren’t the kind of legendary bandits he had imagined—the ones who split gold with rge scales and silver with small ones, who feasted on huge chunks of meat and drank wine by the bowlful. Nor were they the chivalrous outws who kept their word, exuded heroic spirit, and were always willing to risk their lives for a friend.

  Instead, he encountered nothing more than a ragtag bunch of petty thieves—each of them looking pale and malnourished, as if they hadn't eaten in three days. Their clothes were patched all over, and even their knives were rusted.

  Although Guo Dalu was disappointed, since they had crossed paths, there was no helping it. He decided to dispy some martial arts prowess to intimidate them first, then patiently guide them with words of wisdom. He hoped they would turn over a new leaf, abandon their wicked ways, and become honest, self-reliant citizens so as not to disgrace their ancestors.

  At first, the group was so stunned by his martial skills that they stood frozen like wooden statues. Then, moved by his heartfelt words, they burst into tears, each one swearing to change their ways and start anew.

  "But we have no skills to make a living," they mented. "If we stop being bandits, our families will starve!"

  "You can do small business," Guo Dalu suggested. "Even selling steamed buns is better than being a bandit."

  "But we don't even have a single coin to start with. How can we do business? We might as well just die now!" They sobbed and sniffled, looking truly remorseful.

  Guo Dalu was nearly moved to tears himself.

  "No money? That's easy—I have plenty."

  Wasn't the escort cart full of silver?

  Starting a business required capital, and Guo Dalu had always been generous.

  "One hundred taels for each of you."

  Everyone expressed their endless gratitude, and then suddenly, they all let out a loud cry and disappeared into the distance. Even from afar, their voices could still be heard:

  "This benefactor is not only a great hero and a true nobleman, but practically a living Buddha, a saint!"

  Guo Dalu felt his blood surging with emotion, deeply moved.

  "At their core, people are born good. If they weren't pushed into a desperate corner, who would willingly choose to become a bandit?"

  As his emotions gradually settled, he suddenly realized two things:

  First, more than half of the silver in the escort cart was gone.

  Second, that silver did not belong to him.

  His fellow escorts stood around him, mouths agape, staring at him in stunned silence.

  No one could quite tell what their gazes meant—

  Did they see him as a great hero? A saint?

  Or just a complete fool?

  With such a significant loss, the escort chief would, of course, have to compensate for it.

  On the way back to the escort agency, Guo Dalu felt uneasy, but not overly distressed.

  He was confident he could cover the loss. Anyone with real ability had such confidence.

  "I bought this horse for 280 taels, and I still have over 700 taels on me. That adds up to more than 1,000—I′ll pay them back first, and then we′ll see."

  And the rest?

  "The agency can cover it for now. I'll repay them gradually with my deputy chief's sary."

  With someone like him as deputy chief, the Zhongyuan Escort Agency was bound to gain a greater reputation. Business would naturally flourish, and his sary would surely increase—he would be able to repay the debt in no time.

  Luo Zhenyi had been listening the whole time, completely dumbfounded. He sat there, utterly stunned, as if he had been bewitched.

  Guo Dalu, however, remained completely certain. After all, his pn made perfect sense.

  The st thing he expected was for Luo Zhenyi to suddenly drop to his knees before him.

  Luo Zhenyi knelt down—not to ask him to stay, nor to express gratitude for saving his life, but to beg him to leave. The sooner, the better. The farther, the better.

  "You saved me, and I'll repay the lost silver on your behalf. That settles our debt. I′ve never met someone like you before, Uncle Guo, and I sincerely hope I never meet someone like you again."

  And so, Guo Dalu left.

  But where would he go?

  He still carried his sword, and his clothes were as fine as ever, but his magnificent white horse was gone. The few taels of silver he had left weren't enough to afford the best inns or dine at the finest restaurants. In fact, they wouldn't even st him a few days on simple meals and shared sleeping quarters.

  Did this make Guo Dalu anxious? Uncomfortable?

  Not at all. He didn't care in the slightest.

  A man as capable as him—would he ever need to worry about food? That would be a joke.

  So, he found the biggest restaurant in town, ordered the best food and wine, and treated himself to a grand feast.

  A good meal always lifts a man’s spirits, and with a pleasant buzz from the alcohol, even the most annoying people start to seem much more agreeable.

  Feeling generous, he handed over the rest of his silver to the delightful waiter. By the time he walked out the door, his pockets were as empty as if they had just been scrubbed clean—completely, thoroughly empty.