Faraway Wanderers

Chapter 2. Chance Encounter

There was a secret about the Nails that no one knew but Zhou Zishu, and
from then on this secret might as well be buried with him and a rare few —
if all seven had been nailed in at the same time while the person was
unwell, even someone with profound strength like Zhou Zishu would only
have had one mere breath left to depart from the palace; worse, he would
probably become a lifeless lump of flesh before he could even cross the
gate.

But if you did one every three months, letting the body adapt to the nails
until you couldn’t tell them apart on your body — even though death would
still be inevitable in three years and there would be an excruciating eighteen
months of pain — you would retain at least half of your core strength and
could still behave like a completely normal person.

The method was said to drive people crazy with agony; but Zhou Zishu
merrily found out that the rumor was unfounded after all.

Not only was hestill sane, he also felt like there was no other time in his life that he was this
happy and at peace.

Those who have left Tian Chuang actually still had their every move
monitored; information about who they were, when they left or where they
died all recorded in details. The organization was like a giant spider web,
from which escape was futile until you drew the last breath.

Fortunately for him, after a life of sacrifice he had gathered quite a few
loyal ones.

Zhou Zishu, trained by the Emperor to be a master of all trades for the
position of Tian Chuang’s leader, was highly skilled in martial arts and
disguise; it was impossible to recognize him the moment he joined a crowd.

And so the once most frightening individual in the palace vanished; in his
place a free-spirited, miserable-looking wanderer riding a thin horse,
gnawing a straw in his mouth while humming folk songs.

He became the first to actually get away from the network just like that.

On his face was a not quite refined mask painted with sickly-colored
blotches, so that at first glance he looked like someone on the brink of
death.

After checking himself out while drinking water from the river bank,
he felt this appearance suited his situation all too well, and the more he
looked at the disguise the more satisfied he was with it.

He convenientlystole a plain set of clothes from a farmer’s house by the road, his robes
removed and burned, an old flask tied around his waist, half-full with
unfiltered rice wine.

Zhou Zishu — after realizing that his name was never once used during all
those years perpetually hidden in the dark corners of the palace — gleefully
discarded any plans of using an alias and marched on his journey right
away.

He also didn’t mind what his destination would be.

Jiangnan seemed like agood place, so he decided to travel there, maybe do some robbery along the
way to help the poor and to simply scrape by.

He passed by Kaifeng andPenglai, and after a leisurely three months, finally seeing the colorful
scenery of Jiangnan for himself.

He snuck in the most famous tavern’s wine cellar right way, trying all the
sweet cassia wine and drowning himself in a drunken stupor.

He felt elatedand floaty, like there was no greater joy in life than this.

Ten days later, after almost getting caught, he came to the conclusion that
while the wine was good, its taste had become stale and a bit uninteresting;
so he left the place with some silver crumbs1
behind.