"Different routes converge," said the storyteller. On the same afternoon that Huang Donglai and his group entered the Capital, the southern gate of the city welcomed another lone figure.
This person was clad in coarse clothing, carrying a large bundle on his shoulder, walking on foot.
His skin was either naturally dark or excessively filthy—smudged as if with mud—complemented by a full beard and a badly infected sore on his right cheek, creating a sight hard for others to behold.
With his unappealing appearance, modest clothing, and absence of weapons, he clearly wasn't a wealthy merchant or an influential official, nor did he resemble a skilled martial artist. Thus, as he entered the city with the crowd, no one paid him any heed.
However, had an expert with keen eyes observed him closely, they would have noticed that his gait was more stable and brisker than that of an average person, and the skin at the base of his neck differed in color from that on his upper neck and face...
