Bandit Road

Sitting by the window was a young man of about twenty-three or twenty-four, dressed in a faded blue robe, his features decent enough, but what drew the eye most were his eyes—sharp, with slightly upturned corners, reminiscent of a hawk’s beak. Yet now his brows were furrowed, and his fingers tapped unconsciously at the table, as if weighed down by some troubling matter.

The innkeeper, Old Zhao, observed this guest quietly—a habit of his, to study and guess at every patron’s background, motives, and temperament. After more than twenty years as an innkeeper, his gaze was sharp, and few could escape his scrutiny; but this young man was an enigma. Guangdong was a land of shifting fortunes and sudden wealth. As long as one had courage, the southern seas brimmed with untold riches; everyone who came here had desire in their eyes—some hid it well, others not at all. Since the court opened the seas, outsiders who arrived either became wealthy or ended up dead.

Yet this young man seemed indifferent to today’s news of gold and silver being mined from overseas islands, or who had dredged up a thousand-year sea pearl. Instead, what interested him were county records, local customs, rumors of spirits and strange tales. Over the past two months, he had trekked across the mountains within a thousand-mile radius, but seemingly found nothing.

Ah, Old Zhao remembered—the young man’s name was Kou Li.

Suddenly, with a crash, the main door was kicked open. Five or six burly, tattooed thugs burst in. An elderly fisherman delivering fish failed to dodge in time; the doo