CHAPTER 327: CHAPTER 19 NOW IT HAS THE ESSENCE_1

On the roads near Nanwang City, the scene was bustling with dense crowds. Street vendors, reluctant to compete within the city or pay a deposit, set up their stands along both sides of the road instead. These stalls offered a wide variety of local delicacies from across the Yan State, north to south, as well as specialty snacks from the Jin, Chu, and Qian States. Truly, everything was available here.

There were also stands selling a variety of tools and everyday items, spread out lively as if at a temple fair, and business seemed to be quite good.

The people traversing this road were diverse—soldiers, convicts, and all sorts of other individuals. After the Yan Emperor crushed the powerful aristocratic clans and shifted Yan’s power southward, Yinlang County was suddenly flooded with a massive influx of outsiders, leading to a rather "abnormal" prosperity.

This may seem like a flourishing scene, but it has an undertone akin to oil catching fire from intense heat—the more fiercely something boils, the faster it often cools.

Of course, the common people of the Yan region paid little heed to this phenomenon; they were too occupied with their daily lives. The great war had already begun, with fierce skirmishes and engagements raging along the Qian State’s line of fortresses. All that was missing was a decisive blow from the Jingnan Army, or a true counterattack from the Qian State’s elite troops from the three frontier garrisons.

Zheng Fan noticed no anxiety about the war among the people as he made his way down the road, a testament to the long-standing pride of the Yan people.

The Yan State had endured for several hundred years. It had faced tremendous hardships but had always persevered, never losing its vitality. Whether fighting against the barbarians from the northern deserts or the eastern states, engaging in on-again, off-again conflicts, the Yan people had ultimately never faltered.

Setting other things aside, at the very least, this national confidence had been forged through conflict. Furthermore, the Qian State’s military had been particularly underwhelming. Many Yan military leaders, including Zheng Fan, were using every method at their disposal to push south and stir up trouble, yet not a single Qian unit dared to venture north.

Consequently, the south, closer to the front lines, was fraught with an atmosphere of extreme tension, while the north maintained a façade of "flowery brocade" prosperity.

The severed heads had been placed in boxes, hidden from view. Zheng Fan had no intention of making a showy display, such as parading to Nanwang City with them on a banner, just to build some ridiculous prestige for himself.

Perhaps it was because the Third Prince’s ’fifth limb’ was simply too... prominent; after accomplishing *that* feat, anything else done for fame seemed rather dull.

How Hui Wenzu would handle these severed heads and how the imperial court would publicize the news were their concerns. Zheng Fan would cooperate, but he was more focused on the tangible rewards his military achievements would bring him.

Zheng Fan had always believed in the dictum that political power grows out of the barrel of a gun. A strong and vigorous military was the primary foundation for survival in chaotic times.

The deeper his understanding of this world became, the clearer it was that warfare here wasn’t merely a game. With superior numbers, one could overwhelm even powerful individuals—a human sea to drown them. This could ensure survival and also allow for defeating foes.

Nanwang City lay just ahead, but a long line had formed at the city gate. It was unclear what the problem was, but the congestion just kept worsening.

Seeing the line wasn’t moving, Zheng Fan wasn’t in a hurry. He turned to A Ming beside him and asked, "Want to get something to eat?"

A Ming shook his head. He currently had ample supplies and naturally disdained commoners’ food.

Since A Ming wasn’t interested, Zheng Fan dismounted and walked towards a roadside food stall. Xiao Yibo quickly dismounted as well, following to attend to him.

Zheng Fan chose a wonton stall run by a young couple.

Their business, in truth, wasn’t doing particularly well.

Small wontons were a popular dish from Jiangnan, a region in the Qian State. These tiny dumplings, swimming in a savory broth, were likened to ’mandarin ducks playing in water,’ possessing a uniquely delicate and clear stream of flavor.

However, the Yan people preferred large, thick-skinned dumplings and had little interest in such refined foods.

Firstly, the Yan State was situated in the north. Yinlang County, though already Yan’s southern frontier, corresponded to the Qian State’s three frontier garrisons—a region still considered bitterly cold by the Qian people. Consequently, unless they expanded their territories, the Yan people had little chance to truly experience the famed culture and scenery of Jiangnan. Secondly, centuries of tradition dictated the lifestyle of Yan men. They were either battling barbarians in the desert or fiercely contending with the Jin and Qian States. In their daily lives, they sought the satisfaction of a full stomach from hearty mouthfuls, lacking the refined sentiment for savoring small, delicate bites.

However, due to his experiences from a past life, Zheng Fan quite liked these small wontons. Of course, he didn’t mind large wontons either, provided they had a mustard green filling.

"Two bowls of small wontons," Xiao Yibo stepped forward to order, paying in advance.

Small businesses like this didn’t offer credit. After all, if you ate and ran, where would they find you?

Only when the copper coins clinked into the bowl would the wontons be dropped into the pot.

Before long, two bowls of small wontons were ready. The line to enter the city, however, hadn’t budged an inch.

What a terrible traffic jam, Zheng Fan thought.

Xiao Yibo carefully handed the bowl and a small spoon to Zheng Fan. He refrained from being overly solicitous by, for instance, blowing on the soup to cool it. Instead, he simply said, "Sir, be careful, it’s hot."

Zheng Fan smiled and took the bowl.

The small stall offered no tables or chairs. In any case, those of status and importance wouldn’t stoop to eating such roadside fare. Nanwang City, once known as Yan’s "Little Jiangnan," undoubtedly boasted numerous high-end restaurants and eateries, and such individuals would be saving their appetites for those.

Zheng Fan and Xiao Yibo squatted by the stall, a common way of eating for patrons at these roadside stands. Those who were even less fastidious—the ones who weren’t so particular about cleanliness—would simply sit on the ground, finding it more comfortable.

Perhaps it was due to the absence of MSG, an ingredient from a future he knew, that the small wontons weren’t intensely savory. Nevertheless, they had a pleasant smoothness and were quite satisfying to eat.