The first light of dawhrough the wooden sts of Zhao Ming’s room as he finished his final preparations. His belongings were packed, his travel supplies secured, and his mind was set on the journey ahead. He took a deep breath, steadying himself for what y beyond.

  A kno the door interrupted his thoughts. It was his teacher, standing with a solem approving expression.

  "Zhao Ming, the road ahead is uain, but remember this—knowledge and wisdom are more valuable than any bde. Observe, listen, and aly when necessary."

  Zhao bowed deeply. "I will remember, teacher."

  Murong Jiered , holding a small bundle of letters. "These are for some acquaintances in Anxi. Should you find yourself in trouble, they may offer you assistance. sider this a small gesture of goodwill from our family."

  Zhao accepted the letters with gratitude. "I appreciate this, Senior. I will hahem with care."

  Outside, Murong De awaited him he caravan. "The merts are ready to depart," he informed Zhao. "It’s best to leave while the roads are still clear."

  Before mounting his horse, Zhao turo find Murong Xue approag. She held out a small pouch.

  "This is for you," she said. "Dried fruit and medial herbs—good for long journeys."

  Zhao hesitated before accepting it. "Thank you, Miss."

  She then pressed a jade token into his palm. "My sect token. If you ever need help, show this to any disciple of the Azure Drago."

  Zhao ched the token tightly. "I will treasure it."

  As he turo leave, three familiar figures approached. Guan Yu, Liu Bei, and Zhaood before him, their usual energy subdued.

  "Brother Zhao," Guan Yu spoke first, his deep voice steady. "May our paths cross again."

  Liu Bei nodded. "The world is vast, yet fate is uable. Keep your wits about you."

  Zhang Fei grinned, g Zhao’s shoulder. "Don’t fet to drink with us when we meet again!"

  Zhao smiled. "I look forward to it."

  With parting words exged, Zhao mounted his horse and rode toward the caravan. The journey had begun.

  The caravan sisted of merts, guards, and travelers—all bound for Anxi. As the oved along the well-trodden road, Zhao took the opportunity to observe those around him.

  The guards, seasoned and vigint, rode at the fnks. One of them, a bearded man named Qian, rode beside Zhao and struck up a versation.

  "First time traveling with a caravan?" Qian asked.

  Zhao nodded. "I usually travel alone, but this route seems safer."

  "Safe, yes, but tensions are rising. Anxi is a key trade city, and everyone wants a piece of it."

  Zhao took note of his words. "Is there any immediate threat?"

  "For now, patrols keep the roads clear," Qian said. "But u brews beh the surface. Bandits may not be our only ."

  Zhao thanked him for the insight. It was clear that this journey would be more than just a simple trip.

  As the sun s zenith, the caravan approached a dense forest. The air grew heavy with silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves.

  Ahead, a group of people emerged from the woods. Women, children, and the elderly stood in ragged clothing, their expressions weary. A handful of thin, exhausted men stood among them, their posture wary but not hostile.

  The caravan leader raised a hand, signaling the guards to stay alert. One of them approached the group cautiously.

  Moments ter, the guard returned. "They are refugees," he reported. "Their vilge was attacked by bandits. They seek shelter in Zhou ty."

  The leader sighed. "Give them some water. We’re close to the vilge."

  Barrels were brought forward, and the refugees gratefully accepted small rations of water. Zhao dismounted and approached a group of children, them dried fruit from his pouch.

  A woman, weary yet dignified, bowed her head. "You are kind, young sir. May fortune guide your path."

  Zhao only nodded, watg as the caravan resumed its journey, leaving the dispced souls behind.

  By nightfall, the caravan reached a small vilge and decided to rest at an inn. The main hall buzzed with voices as merts and travelers settled in.

  Zhao found ay seat at a long table where a broad-shouldered man was finishing his meal. As the innkeeper served tea, the man raised an eyebrow.

  "A young song traders? Unusual sight."

  Zhao smiled slightly. "Traveling to Anxi."

  The man chuckled. "Name’s Dian Wei. Caravan guard, merary when needed. Heading toward Xu g."

  Zhao studied him. Dian Wei radiated fidence, his muscur frame evidence of tless battles.

  A tavern girl passed by, and Zhao took the ce to ask, "Any iing rumors from Anxi?"

  She gnced around before whispering, "Talk of flicts rising. The city may not be as peaceful as it seems."

  Dian Wei grunted. "Hah! Trouble is always brewing somewhere. That’s why men like me never go hungry."

  Laughter and music filled the room as courtesans sang a soft melody. In one er, a dice game gathered a crowd of gamblers.

  Zhao finished his tea. "Enjoy your wine, Brother Dian. I’ll retire for the night."

  Dian Wei raised his cup in farewell. "Rest well, schor. You’ll ."

  Outside, the cool night air carried murmurs of life—drunken meraries stumbling, beggars sging for food, and courtesans whispering uern-lit balies.

  Zhao passed by the caravan leader, who gave him a nod. "We leave at first light. Anxi is close. Get some rest."

  With a final g the moonlit sky, Zhao entered his room and y down. His journey had just begun, and challenges awaited beyond the horizon.

  End of Chapter 8