Chapter 72: I Suspect They Eat Filth

"Waiter, I'll take a premium room," Ji Huo called out as he entered the inn.

"Sorry, honored guest, we're full," the waiter apologized.

Ji Huo asked again, "Any other rooms?"

"All full," the waiter replied helplessly.

Ji Huo furrowed his brows. This was the third inn he'd found, and still, there were no vacancies.

"Sir, you might as well stop looking," the waiter advised. "For some reason, a bunch of martial artists have suddenly appeared. In a rush, they've booked up every inn in a radius of ten miles."

He grumbled, "These martial artists are really something. Every one of them asks for hot water as soon as they get into their rooms. Exhausting!"

Ji Huo parted his lips slightly. Was this some custom among martial artists? Maybe after days roughing it outdoors, they all wanted to bathe first.

The waiter glanced at Ji Huo's fine clothes, guessing he was a young master from some wealthy family, not one of those martial artists. He looked around, saw no one was watching, and whispered as he leaned closer:

"They all have this strange stench about them, coming in waves. I suspect... they've eaten dung!"

Ji Huo's eyes widened, "Surely not?"

"It's true! Every single one of them smells that way! I think they don't just eat dung, they eat it together!"

Ji Huo's mouth hung open. No wonder he'd caught a whiff of something as soon as he entered town—could it really be true?

Dung-eating play?

Martial artists of this era certainly had peculiar tastes, pushing boundaries.

Whatever their habits, Ji Huo realized he wouldn't find anywhere to stay tonight. This was just an ordinary town on the way to Divine Sword Manor, and the Tiangang group had no base here—not even a place to rest.

So he headed out, intent on finding some abandoned temple or bridge arch to spend the night.

He hadn't gone far when someone called out to him.

"Are you Young Master Ji Huo?"

It was a street vendor, looking utterly ordinary, carrying an air of simplicity.

"That's me," Ji Huo replied, arching an eyebrow.

"Second Young Master, the eldest young master has something for you," the vendor said respectfully.

Ji Huo sized him up. He'd noticed the vendor when he arrived, never suspecting he was one of his elder brother's operatives.

"What is it?" Ji Huo asked.

"It's not with me now," the vendor replied. "If you don't mind, Second Young Master, you could spend the night at my home, and I'll have someone deliver it to you."

Ji Huo didn't worry whether the man was trustworthy; he nodded without concern.

"Please wait a moment, Second Young Master," the vendor said, quickly packing up his stall.

Ji Huo glanced over the items—just a jumble of odds and ends, small toys and trinkets.

The man's movements were practiced; you'd never guess he held two jobs just by watching him.

They arrived at a tile-roofed house on the edge of town, simple but spotlessly clean.

Ji Huo's eyes narrowed slightly. He recalled living in such a house as a child in his previous life, rural and homely, full of life's warmth.

"Daddy, you're home!" A little child ran out, giggling, and crashed into the vendor.

"Ah, my little treasure! Were you good today? Did you make your mother angry?" The vendor scooped up the child and planted a kiss on her cheek.

"I was very good today!" The child replied in a sweet, piping voice.

Ji Huo watched with a touch of envy. When Xiao Hongtang was little, she was just as adorable—who'd have guessed she'd grow into such a chatty woman.

A plainly dressed woman emerged from the house. She paused on seeing Ji Huo, then understood, her face lighting up with a friendly smile as she bowed in greeting.

She quickly strode forward, picked up the child, and coaxed, "Be good, baby, let's not disturb Daddy."

Once inside, the vendor pointed to a vacant room and smiled, "Second Young Master can stay here. If you don't mind, join us for dinner tonight."

Ji Huo entered the room. It was spotless, clearly cared for with warmth.

Curious, he asked, "How long have you been here?"

"You misunderstand, Second Young Master. I grew up here. Selling those trinkets is my little business," the vendor replied, his smile earnest and unpretentious.

Ji Huo was surprised, asking, "If so, why do you help my elder brother...?"

The vendor laughed, "Actually, it's not just me. If you wandered the town a bit, any local recognizing you would call you over."

Ji Huo asked, puzzled, "You're not a professional informant?"

"Of course not," the vendor scratched his head with a grin. "I'm just a regular vendor, sometimes selling borderline storybooks—nothing fancy."

"I only heard the eldest young master was looking for someone, so I kept an eye out. Folks from all the villages around here will help him."

"Why is that?" Ji Huo asked, settling by the table.

"Years ago, we suffered a drought. Many died, and the officials did nothing. Our people were on the brink of starvation. The eldest young master traveled a thousand miles to bring porridge and relief. Thanks to him, we survived that winter."

"After that, the county magistrate who oppressed the people suddenly died, and the new one was much better—a clean official."

The vendor hesitated for a moment, then whispered, "We heard the new magistrate is actually the eldest young master's protégé. But these things shouldn't be spoken of—just keep it to yourself!"

"So, whenever the eldest young master has business, or news comes from the county, we villagers lend a hand. Like this time, he wanted to find you, so I kept watch. Never thought I'd actually spot you."

When the vendor left, Ji Huo sat in silence.

He suddenly understood why his own Qian Kun Sect had grown so quickly, and why, despite its numbers, he had been slower to receive news from Hongzhou than his elder brother.

He'd trained orphans from childhood—Tiangang for intelligence, Disha for assassinations and contract work—all simply to help them survive.

Even as he developed Qian Kun followers, it was only to give the homeless and unfortunate a chance at life.

Ji Huo simply wanted to help the pitiful.

His elder brother also helped those in need, but his methods were different. He aided entire towns, cities, even provinces. He changed city lords if necessary, ensuring everyone could live, everyone could be secure.

His brother's methods were more upright, more open—even honorable.

If he wished, everyone he'd helped over the years could become his eyes and ears.

If he called them to action...

Ji Huo lowered his gaze, recalling the day he saw the White Tiger Army, and the strategist's ambiguous look—almost longing.

"It feels as if my brother is playing an immense game," Ji Huo mused, shaking his head. He stopped pondering. If the day came when his brother stood before him and smiled,

"Second Brother, how does this imperial robe suit me?"

He would simply smile and offer a critical review.