Chapter Ninety-Two: A Nightmare Startles Me Awake to the Chill of the Dawn Pillow; the Green Lamp Still Burns Beside the Medicine Stove

A nightmare jolted him awake to the chill of dawn, while a pale lamp still glowed beside the medicine stove.

Early the next morning, Han Moyi was already up. Before he had even stepped outside, he heard Ma Ruobing and her younger sister Ma Ruoxue quarreling softly in the room next door.

"Sis, just take him along. Your carriage can fit one more person anyway," said Ma Ruoxue. Her voice was the gentler of the two.

"Ruoxue, stop making a scene. You ran away from home on your own this time, and Father is already furious. I only came to the desert to find you by hiding it from him." Ma Ruobing's voice was much colder. After a pause, she softened her tone a little and went on, "Besides, do you even know what kind of man he is?"

"He is Han Moyi! Han Moyi of the Han family in Three-Flag Town!" Ma Ruoxue blurted out at once. She truly could not understand why, in just one night, her sister's attitude toward Han Moyi could change so drastically.

Not only Ma Ruoxue, but even Han Moyi himself could not make sense of Ma Ruobing's behavior.

"What do you know? He is..." Ma Ruobing's voice rose a little, then stopped abruptly. Ma Ruoxue and Han Moyi both waited for what would come next, but Ma Ruobing merely let out a sigh before continuing, "Enough. It's settled. When we get back, I will plead for you before Father."

Ma Ruoxue seemed somewhat afraid of her father, or perhaps seeing her sister so resolute, she said no more.

After a while, the door to the neighboring room creaked open, followed by the sound of footsteps going downstairs. Only then did Han Moyi open his own door and step out.

By the time he came downstairs, the two sisters were already gone from the Northern Desert Inn. With a wry smile, he chose a table deeper inside and sat down.

"Waiter, a bowl of noodles," Han Moyi called to the busy inn boy nearby.

"Right away, sir. Please wait a moment." The boy answered and hurried off to the kitchen with the order.

Before long, a bowl of noodles was brought to the table. Han Moyi finished it in only a few bites, and only then did he realize an awkward problem: the silver he had gotten yesterday from pawning the jade thumb ring had already been handed over to the pockmarked blade-wielder. In other words, Han Moyi now had not a single coin to his name.

A long while passed, and he was still staring blankly at the empty bowl. Truly, a single penny can stymie a hero.

"Sir, your bill has already been settled by those two young ladies, and your horse has been tied up outside as well. You may leave at your leisure." Perhaps having noticed Han Moyi's embarrassment, the inn boy spoke up. Maybe because he saw that even the room had been paid for by women, there was more than a little contempt in his tone.

Han Moyi said nothing more. He went upstairs, took the Black Phoenix Blade, and left the Northern Desert Inn. Sure enough, the two horses he and Ma Ruoxue had ridden in on were tied to a willow tree not far from the entrance.

When Han Moyi approached, the horse he had ridden bobbed its head ingratiatingly, while Ma Ruoxue's horse looked rather forlorn.

Huangsha Town was far livelier than Three-Flag Town. The streets were not only filled with cloth merchants and peddlers, but also with many local people selling dried provisions and food. It was an important supply point for merchants traveling west and for those coming from the Central Plains. In the desert, where yellow sand stretched everywhere, dry food and water were naturally the most indispensable things.

Han Moyi planned to go to White Pagoda Inn. Without Ma Ruobing's carriage, the journey by horse would take at least two days, and he would have to prepare food and water. Even knowing that he was under the curse of heaven and could not die, hunger and thirst were not sufferings anyone could endure lightly.

Having made up his mind, Han Moyi did not stop at the stalls selling dried provisions. Leading his horse, he went straight toward the market streets on the southern side of Huangsha Town, where the horse market was located.

The horse market was crowded, with the neighing of horses rising now and then. Although Han Moyi was not especially versed in the ways of trade, his family was in the herb business, and he had picked up quite a bit through long familiarity.

Eager to set out, he naturally let others drive the price down. One horse brought him only twenty silver pieces. Judging from the middle-aged, corpulent buyer's beaming face, the deal had probably been a bargain for him.

Just dried food and water had already cost Han Moyi five silver pieces, and once again he had been taken for a fat sheep to be slaughtered. In the end, he spent another copper coin on a wine gourd to hang from the saddle, filled to the brim with the fierce liquor peculiar to the desert.

Man and horse left Huangsha Town. Han Moyi spurred his mount southward at full speed, and the dust kicked up by the hooves rose high beneath the blazing sun.

At noon, he rested in a ruined temple, ate some dried rations, and waited until the sun had lost its noon-day savagery before continuing on.

In the morning, not long after leaving Huangsha Town, he had still met a fair number of passing merchants. By afternoon, Han Moyi had already ridden into the more desolate wilderness of the southern desert, where people grew fewer and fewer. By the time the sun hung in the west, he had not seen a single human figure for more than an hour.

As the sun sank, the desert did not fall into darkness at once. Greedy for the coolness after sunset, Han Moyi did not stop immediately to look for a place to spend the night, but pressed on.

Only when night had fully deepened did he slow down. A round moon hung directly above him, and the moonlight was bright, as though the desert brought it closer to the ground.

Having missed the places where he could have rested, he knew the desert at night was fraught with peril. Not only were there venomous creatures like snakes, lizards, and scorpions, but also packs of wolves that came out to hunt after dark.

Still, Han Moyi was not particularly worried. He would not die anyway, and not dying meant there was no danger.

By moonlight, he dismounted beneath a grove of dead poplar trees.

The first thing he did after getting off the horse was to untie the waterskin and give the horse a drink, for he had noticed foam gathering at its mouth.

In the desert, if the horse died, it would take at least seven or eight days to walk to White Pagoda Inn on foot.

Only after watering the horse did Han Moyi finally settle down and rest. He took the pack down from the saddle, ate some dried rations with water, then lay flat on the ground. Starlight scattered evenly across his body, and before long fatigue rolled over him.

No one knew how long had passed before Han Moyi suddenly woke. Dark clouds had already blotted out the moon and stars.

The desert night was cold to begin with, and in the latter half of the night the wind rose as well. Han Moyi shivered all over from the cold and could not help cursing, "Damn heavens, do you have to play with me like this?"

Whether heaven heard his complaint or not, the desert wind only grew stronger.

Cold enough to rub his hands raw, Han Moyi suddenly felt his pocket. He slapped his thigh and cried out, "How could I forget you?"

With that, he reached into his pocket and drew out an object. It was none other than the fire starter Ma Ruoxue had given him at Black Eagle Fortress.

With it, Han Moyi quickly gathered a few dead branches and lit a fire.

The dead wood crackled and burst as the flames took hold. The roar of the wind and the shrill cries of venomous insects beneath the desert sand all reached Han Moyi's ears at once.

He sat down beside the blaze. Having slept for a while, he was not so drowsy now. He took some dried rations from the pack and warmed them by the fire, then pulled down the wine gourd and took a fierce swallow. Warmth spread through him from the inside out.

In this vast desert, drinking strong liquor and eating roasted rations had a flavor all its own.

Suddenly, Han Moyi set the wine gourd down hard and stared fixedly at the sand dunes in the distance.

On the dark dunes, hundreds of green points of light slowly appeared. They moved swiftly, and the direction they were taking was none other than the poplar grove where Han Moyi stood.

Those hundreds of green lights looked eerily mysterious in the black desert, as dazzling as emeralds and strangely beautiful to behold. But Han Moyi had already gone rigid with tension, holding his breath.

He knew all too well what those green lights were.

They were not emeralds at all, but eyes.

The green eyes of wolves.