Chapter Five: The Cattle and Horse Market

Throughout the journey, they continuously changed carriages, and Zhao led Yun Hao farther and farther away from the Yun family estate. After two days, the blood flow in Yun Hao’s upper body was finally unimpeded. He looked at his tender little arms, feeling a joy beyond words. In his previous life, he had lived to sixty-two, an old man with white hair and wrinkled skin. Now his flesh was rosy and delicate, irresistibly adorable. The sensation of becoming young again was indescribably exhilarating.

On the fifth day, Yun Hao was able to walk on his own. Like a real child, curiosity brimmed within him as he longed to explore this world of the Sui and Tang dynasties.

The sky was azure, dotted with snowy clouds. At mealtime, blue wisps of smoke curled from every household’s chimney. The air was thick with the scent of earth; passing vegetable patches, one could even catch the pungent aroma of farm fertilizer.

Each day, Yun Hao pondered how he might strike it rich. That old scoundrel King of the Underworld had really fooled him—where was the promised mountain of gold and silver? Not a single real coin, not even a note from the Celestial Bank stamped with the Jade Emperor’s seal. In a fit of childish pique, he relieved himself by the roadside, imagining the clods of dirt as the King of the Underworld and dousing them mercilessly before lifting his robe in satisfaction.

The only thing Yun Hao found truly pleasing was the cultural environment of the Great Tang. Traveling along the way, he felt as if he’d entered a utopia. Every peasant was honest to a fault; the drivers of ox carts and carriages, once given a deposit, would deliver you to your destination no matter what, and after receiving payment, they’d even thank you politely. It was so idyllic that Yun Hao almost doubted he was in the Sui and Tang era at all—more like the Land of Gentlemen from the tales of fantastical realms.

Well... scoundrels do exist everywhere. Just as Yun Hao was reveling in the lofty morals of these ancient folk, a group of roughnecks with tattooed arms closed in around Zhao.

By the roadside stood a long row of wooden posts, each tethered with cattle, horses, or mules. On each animal’s bridle was pinned a grass-mark tag. A crowd of idlers squatted by the wall, hands tucked into sleeves, craning their necks to watch.

It was obvious these were local thugs. Arms folded over tattooed skin, they leered at Zhao with lascivious, mocking grins. They had been watching this mother and child for a while—a young woman with a boy of six or seven. The Emperor had waged three campaigns against Goguryeo, claiming countless lives, and the most direct result was a multitude of widows and fatherless children. Clearly, this pair was among them.

“Pretty lady! All alone, are you? Want a little spending money from your big brother?”

Zhao lowered her head and hurried forward, trying to reach Yun Hao. But the pale-faced, self-styled dandy among the thugs blocked her path with an outstretched arm.

“You brute, you’ll never win a lady’s heart that way. Be gentle with women—you should see my technique!” He bared yellowed teeth in a grin. “No need to rush, miss. You look so lonely. Why not come home with me? I’ll treat you well.”

“Get away!” Realizing there would be no easy end to this, Zhao snatched a pair of scissors from her bundle.

“Ha! Feisty, aren’t you? Pretty lady, give your big brothers a smile!” Another thug jeered. Zhao pointed the scissors at him, ready to stab if he dared approach.

“Oh, she’s angry! Let me smile and apologize for you, miss,” the thug said, flashing a grin full of yellow teeth and garlic breath, which nearly made Zhao retch.

In that moment of distraction, the pale-faced ruffian seized both her hands and twisted them forcefully. Zhao, a mere woman, couldn’t withstand his grip and cried out in pain as her scissors were snatched away.

“Come now, be good for us, it’ll be worth your while—Ow!” Out of nowhere, a stone struck the thug’s head, splitting the skin and sending blood trickling down his matted hair. Shocked, he touched the wound, saw the blood, and promptly fainted.

No one knew where the stone came from—it flew so swiftly.

After throwing the stone, Yun Hao hid behind the livestock. Being small had its advantages—adults habitually overlooked children. And no one would suspect a child of throwing a stone with such force.

In his hand, Yun Hao held a rope with a piece of leather in the middle—a toy he’d made out of boredom. Back when he was a child, this was a treasured possession. Kids would use it to shoot birds from trees; in lean times, even a sparrow was a precious morsel of meat.

He placed a small stone on the leather, swung the rope vigorously, and with a flick of his fingers, the stone shot out at startling speed—almost as fast as a bullet, according to scientists.

“Who? Who dares attack my third brother from the shadows? Don’t you know the Four Tigers of East City? Come out, and I’ll skin you alive! Ask around who the Green-Eyed Tiger is. Show yourself!” The eldest of the Four Tigers, the Green-Eyed Tiger, roared.

To his credit, the Green-Eyed Tiger’s shout was like thunder on a clear day, scattering the gathered idlers at once. Clearly, the Four Tigers of East City were infamous for a reason.

He was a burly man, muscles black and knotted, his body seemingly cast in bronze and iron. He was bare-chested, a swath of hair covering his chest, and his arms bulged with muscle like writhing rats. One look made it clear: this was a man whose arms could pull a plow and whose fists could break bones.

“Who—” The Green-Eyed Tiger, pleased with the effect of his shout, was preparing to bellow again, even if he couldn’t find the sneak attacker—he had to reassert the Tigers’ dominance. But just as he spoke, another stone came flying and struck him square in the chest. The wind was knocked out of him, and his dark face turned a mottled purple.

Yun Hao snickered inwardly—such a rustic name! Green-Eyed Tiger? What about Mountain Pheasant or Hao Nan—those sounded far more impressive. No matter who you are, even if you were called Rolling Dragon, today I’ll make sure your own mother wouldn’t recognize you.

Hiding carefully behind the livestock, Yun Hao picked another small stone, this time choosing a sharp one. Even if the Green-Eyed Tiger were a reincarnated warrior monk, he’d have to bleed today.

Just as Yun Hao twirled the stone in his hand, he suddenly felt a tightness at his neck. A large hand grabbed him and lifted him up, ignoring his flailing limbs, and shouted to Green-Eyed Tiger, “Big brother, I found him! It’s a little brat!”

“You little brat, I’ll strangle you!” Green-Eyed Tiger bellowed at the sight of Yun Hao dangling in the air.

“If you dare touch my son, I’ll fight you to the death!” Zhao, wild with desperation, threw herself at the thug holding Yun Hao. But before she reached him, the Golden-Haired Tiger kicked her aside.

Yun Hao squeezed his eyes shut, thinking, This is it. I haven’t even lived to see the Tang Dynasty, and now I’m going to die at the hands of these bullies. Heaven, are you blind?

Zhao was sent flying several meters, clutching her belly and curling up like a boiled shrimp. Though in agony, she struggled to rise and protect her son.

The bystanders all wore looks of pity, but no one dared intervene—not even a word of protest. The Four Tigers of East City ruled this livestock market; no one with sense would cross them. Misfortune was sure to befall this woman and child.

Just as Yun Hao was preparing to raise havoc in the underworld again, a thunderous shout rang out: “Stop!”