Most of the people in this group are broad-shouldered and slightly shorter, wearing curved sabers rarely seen in the Great Qin Jianghu at their waists, with dark brown leather canteens on one side, sporting big beards and light brown eyes.

These are the people of Parthia among the thirty-six countries of the Western Regions.

Parthia and Great Qin have good relations, and the elders in various Parthian settlements have permits from Great Qin allowing trade, permitting these Parthians to engage in commerce within the interior of Great Qin, and opening up portions of the salt and iron shares.

What they carry are essential supplies meant to be taken back home.

Beyond the Western Regions are mostly deserts and wilderness, and the Parthians live on the various oases within these deserts, making a living by hunting and herding, often migrating, living by the water.

Their favorite is fiery liquor that burns the throat, but no one brews this potent liquor better than the men of Great Qin's northwest; cattle and horses are their lifeline, yet the elders couldn't cure their sick cattle, while the seemingly frailer doctors of Great Qin could easily save these cows and sheep.

Everyone cannot do without salt, and the Parthian herders cannot do without the liquor and medicine of Great Qin, nor the cattle and horses.

So Parthia cannot do without Great Qin either; the relations between the two countries are excellent, a century-old diplomatic bond, with sightings of these Parthians common in the border cities, and the townspeople have long grown accustomed.

The Defensive Army Tribunus and the bearded leader were old acquaintances, and after a few laughs and seeing that the permits were in order, he waved a hand, allowing his soldiers to let them pass.

Several carts moved slowly, and the Colonel, with a hand on his saber, strode up the stone platform, hearing several clashing sword sounds, he turned his head to see a young saber-wielder in ochre clothing running from within the city.

The swordsman ran all the way to the city gate, where similarly dressed men stood left and right; the young man said something to them, and moments later, the three left the gate, heading into the interior of Xiong City.

The City Defense Colonel scratched his chin, muttering softly:

"Looks like they've given up?"

"Indeed, but if I were that Blade Madman, I wouldn't leave just like that; the Huangfu Family has many beautiful young ladies, after all, it's a noble clan with looks and bearing that small families simply can't match..."

"What a pity, if I could see that Blade Madman and report the news to the Huangfu Family, wouldn't that count as doing them a favor? Alas, I don't even know how to find him... many cold-faced Jianghu swordsmen, but not even a hair of that red horse to be seen, waiting here for all these days for nothing."

"Have they flown away?!"

He patted the cold-as-ice blue stone in some frustration.

The thudding sounds of hooves fell on the frozen ground outside Xiong City, as the bearded Parthian leader tossed a prepared wineskin to the person at the very rear of the group, filled with potent liquor, weighing about two or three catties.

That person, in their eyes, was wrapped in a thick, dark cloak-like garment, all in plain cotton, revealing only the eyes for wind protection and warmth, a common attire among most of the group, nothing unusual.

He had two bamboo baskets on his horse, filled with processed medicinal herbs, giving off a medicinal fragrance.

The person caught the liquor.

The Parthian leader grinned, speaking in fluent Great Qin official dialect:

"The roads after winter will be hard to traverse, with winds like knives. Drink some liquor to fend off the cold; we've still got a stretch ahead. You were introduced by Brother Old Road; we've seen your medical skills, having a Great Qin doctor along the way is a good thing."

The person nodded, pulled down the mask, and took a drink of liquor.

It was a standard Great Qin man, looking quite young, probably only twenty-five or six, maybe younger, with a hard countenance, and a bold manner when drinking.

The bearded leader laughed aloud, praised:

"A real man!"

"Let's go, scoundrels, put in more effort; once we change mounts at Yumen Pass, we can return home!"

The tinkling of horse bells was crisp, and the rustic herding songs were melodious.

Wang Anfeng took a sip of the liquor, hung the wineskin on the gallus at his waist, turned to glance at the gate of Xiong City already a mile behind, and pulled up the hood of the cloak.

The previous thirty taels silver dark cloak was gone.

At that time, drunk with the excitement of battle, unprecedented intensity, he felt the cloak was a hindrance and directly untied it, later hurried away from the masters of the four great families, unable to retrieve it in time.

And then it was gone.

Later he went back to the competition ground to look but had no idea who might have taken it; reluctantly, he had to go out, gather some herbs to sell to a pharmacy, and in ten days managed to save some travel expenses to buy the cheapest but most suitable cloak he had previously seen.

It was just right to conceal his identity.

His mount trotted smoothly, covered on its back with a thick layer of grey cloth, stretching from the neck to the tail; in the winter cold, mounts when traveling outside were treated this way, but from hidden spots, one could still glimpse a fiery red color.

But in the eyes of others, this horse, like all the others, appeared as a deep brown dwarf horse, the most common type of packhorse outside the realm, though low, they were not slow and could traverse uneven terrains, best suited for parts of the Western Region's landscape.