Chương 62: Chapter 59 - Sichuan, Meet Cyrus

The inn was everything Cyrus needed right now. A roaring fire in the hearth kept the cold of the drizzling rain outside at bay. The faint scent of bubbling soup and cooking meat wafted out of the nearby doorway – the kitchen, most likely. And all the bodies meant that any grasswolves that broke in would need a while before they could get to him. Before Cyrus had a chance to order food, a rough hand landed on his shoulder, and a gruff voice said, "The young cultivator will be eating with us."

Cyrus looked over his shoulder at a big burly man in the lamellar armor of the army standing over him. The veteran had a bushy black beard and a scar over one eye. His face was lined and spoke of hard times and harder battles. Cyrus gave his best winning smile.

"If you're inviting, I'd love to join." The man barked, "Ha! Good! I'm Kim Kiho. We saw the wreckage you left behind on your journey through the gangho. You have some tales to tell, and we want to be the first to hear them!" Cyrus followed the soldier to a nearby table where three other men and a woman sat, all in imperial army attire. Most had empty plates or cups of tea in front of them. They made space for Cyrus while Kim Kiho sat at the end of the table, closest to the outside door.

When he was situated, Cyrus did his best Song impression, really pushing that faux humility the little guy always did.

"Are you sure you want to hear the paltry tales of this unworthy cultivator?"

"Hearing tales abroad is one of the few perks of this job," one of the soldiers said.

"Yes! Story! Tell us a story!" The female soldier said in a sing-song voice.

"A tale of the Gangho!"

"Now, now. The young hero is hungry. Let me see what he wants to order first." The innkeeper said, holding a serving tray as she leaned against the table. Belatedly, Cyrus realized he didn't know the woman's name. She was short, with long raven black hair and a figure that spoke of fine food and physical labour. Her apron was stained but she was otherwise neat and tidy. She looked over fourty, with laugh lines etching her face.

"What do you have to eat?" Cyrus asked. His stomach growled furiously, and he gave a bashful grin.

"I could eat a horse."

"How's that any different from the usual for a Nakjin?" One of the soldiers asked. Nakjin? Cyrus rolled the word over in his head. A term for people from Nakjo, maybe? In the meantime, he answered, "Because this time I feel like I can eat the whole thing." The innkeeper's smile quirked sideways.

"Do you want me to serve the horse you rode in on? It's a shaggy thing so it's hard to tell, but I can't imagine there's much meat on it." So saying, she passed Cyrus a menu.

"What'll you have?" Cyrus clinked the gold yuanbao in his pocket. He had five thousand dollars of someone else's money to spend. Oh ho ho ho ho. The menu was all pictures, with numbers next to them indicating prices. Pretty much everything cost ten to twenty bronze tongbo. He felt his mouth salivating as he looked over the pictures.

"I'll take one of each," he proudly declared, running his finger down the menu.

"To share with my new friends!"

"I've always wanted to see someone do that!" Kiho roared.

"And a round of that awful airag on me, Innkeeper! To celebrate our young hero!" The other soldiers roared their approval and slapped the table, Kiho, or Cyrus, depending on what was closest. Cyrus shuddered at the thought of more airag, but let the camaraderie wash over him. It felt like going to Boston Pizza after winning a tournament, and he let his cracked lips peel into a wide grin. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

While they waited for the food to arrive, they sipped on airag and forced Cyrus to tell the tale of his midnight ride through the plains. He was more than happy to oblige, theatrically acting bits out and making wide sweeping gestures as he spoke. There were a few other travellers in the inn, and they were soon swept into it. Cyrus was no storyteller, but he'd certainly watched enough television to really sell a story. And if he embellished a bit, so what?

This was the kind of world where embellishment was pretty much a given.

"And then the foundation grasswolf swung at me with its wicked claws, but I took the blow on my staff and used the force of it to launch myself back onto the horse upon my Starlight Bridge," Cyrus declared, entering the arms-outstretched stance of the first form of Stellar Crane Form. He twisted his body, and the onlookers 'oooh'd' appropriately.

"You're saying a fresh-faced lad like you fought a Demon a full realm above and didn't die?" One of the travelers scoffed. He was dressed in a simple white linen tunic and leaning lazily back against the table on the other side of the room. His face was slightly pink from drink. The soldiers turned an angry eye on the man. Kim Kiho said severely, "Captain Cho says they never found the beast, but he did find traces of foundation level qi in the area. Are you calling our Captain a liar?"

The man quailed and made some muttered excuses, falling back down into his drink. Cyrus nodded, sitting back down.

"I didn't so much fight it as run away and poison it until it wasn't able to follow me anymore."

"Still! An impressive feat!" Kiho shouted. He stroked his beard, deep in thought.

"We'll need a dao name for a promising young warrior of the plains such as yourself!"

"How about the Wolf of Nakjo?" One of the peddlers shouted.

"Nakjo Neukdae!"

"Naked Flying Horse? Luo Cheollima?" Another tested, then was slapped down by his neighbours. Cyrus cleared his throat.

"Actually, I already have a dao name." There was a curious hush. One of the soldiers finally asked.

"How? Wasn't this your first foray into the Gangho?"

"My master gave it to me."

"He must be a cultivator of great repute to think he can give you a dao name," the Innkeeper said, arriving at the table with a platter covered in food. She shook her head with disbelief.

"Who is it?" Cyrus's lips salivated at the sight of it. There were meat dishes. Tofu dishes. Vegetable dishes. Rice dishes. And he knew for a fact there was more to come. What a feast!

"His name is Master Crane. He's a Core level cultivator. And uh, he named me Haksaekki." There was a moment of silence, followed by uproarious laughter.

"Child of Crane!" A peddler at a nearby table doubled over, tears welling in his eyes.

"It's a sign of affection! Affection!" Kim Kiho barked, but his lips quivered in an attempt to keep a smile from his face.

"At least it wasn't Son of a – " One of the soldiers began, before catching the lady soldier's fist to his face. But she was laughing too. The innkeeper wasn't laughing though. She gave Cyrus a serious look as she placed the last big bowl of some red soup on the table.

"Are you his oldest student?"

"Only disciple," Cyrus said, more concerned with the heavenly scent wafting from the food in front of him than any odd notions about his 'dao name' or whatever. Some of the laughter stopped, as the older travelers gave knowing nods. Kim Kiho thumped his fist on the table, jarring the food and causing some of the soup to splash.

"Who are we to mock the inheritance of an old cultivator?" He roared.

"We who've never touched heaven ourselves?? Haksaekki is a fine dao name!"

"Hear hear!" A woman in fine robes across the room said, raising a cup of wine.

"Here's to Haksaekki's first flight from the nest!" The laughter fully died down as others picked up their cups and raised them. Mugs of airag, glasses of wine, and cups of tea all sloshed about to the cheer of, "Haksaekki!" For Cyrus's part, he rubbed his hands together with glee, and looked over the smorgasbord. He'd start with something simple for his empty stomach, just to avoid throwing up. Soup. Some soup would be good. He ladled some of the thick red soup into his bowl.

It was so fresh it was still slowly burbling, bringing thin stringy noodles, bits of sliced beef, stringy enoki mushrooms, spicy peppers, and pieces of bok-choi to the surface in undulating waves. It looked delicious, and hot. The soldiers all dove in as well, nabbing haunches of meat and tossing noodles into their bowls with wild abandon. Cyrus let it all fall by the wayside. He brought the spoon to his lips, filled with a big hunk of beef and some noodles, and took a deep sniff. Spicy, maybe?

It reminded him of something, but his memory was foggy as to what. He shrugged and swallowed it in one go. The soup was tangy, with the strong acidic taste of spices mixed with the more mellow tones of beef and mushrooms. The noodles had perfectly captured the flavour of the soup, and were so soft they practically melted in his mouth. It was glorious. And hot. No, really hot. Heat stung his split lip all the way to his belly with an intensity that burned hotter than simple temperature. SPICY!!!!

Cyrus roared flames to the sky.

"HOT!!!" Laughter filled the inn once more. There was nothing quite like seeing someone eat Sichuan food for the first time!