All the heavens, starting as the ruler of the universe

The walls of Heishui Town are made of rammed earth and are not high. The wind and sand have carved countless gullies of varying depths on them.

As Peter entered the town, several men who were squatting against the wall sunbathing looked up at the same time.

It wasn't the kind of watching that's just for fun; it was scrutinizing.

From head to toe, from his brown hair to his fair skin, and his impeccably clean clothes.

No one spoke, but their eyes remained fixed on his back until he turned into the main street.

The main street is not long, and along it are mud-brick houses and a few street vendors.

There were vendors selling naan bread, earthenware jars, and unidentified medicinal herbs.

The air was filled with the smell of baked flatbread mixed with camel dung.

Peter walked and memorized the route, eventually entering an inn.

The inn was in the middle of the street, and as he walked in, that feeling of being watched returned.

However, the spider senses did not react, so the threat should not be significant.

Peter didn't turn around; he pushed open the inn door and went inside.

The inn's lobby wasn't large, with five or six square tables set up, and a few guests sitting scattered around.

Peter chose a corner seat by the window and placed his backpack at his feet.

Xiao Er was a tall, thin man in his early twenties with a grayish-white towel draped over his shoulder. He paused for a moment when he saw Peter, but his professional instincts overcame his curiosity, and he greeted him with a smile.

Peter casually ordered two dishes, and the waiter went to the kitchen in response.

Before long, the inn door was pushed open again.

The caravan members entered one after another, with the leader, who wore a dark turban, leading the way, followed by several companions, all of whom still had chapped lips.

When the leader entered, he glanced around the hall, saw Peter in the corner, paused for a moment, then said nothing and went straight to the large table near the door to sit down.

Several men sat down as well, some placing their water bags on the table, others rubbing their hands where the camel reins had left marks.

The waiter brought out Peter's two dishes from the kitchen, put them down, turned around and saw the caravan table. His eyes lit up immediately. "Master Ma! You're here again! The usual?"

The leader nodded, and the waiter, without bothering to take notes, turned and shouted to the kitchen, "Master Ma has arrived! Quickly prepare a room and water for him!"

Clearly, this group of merchants were regulars in Blackwater Town.

The caravan members took off their face coverings to protect their faces from the sand, revealing their roughened faces from the wind and sand.

Master Ma folded the face towel and placed it on the corner of the table. "Everyone, perk up." He glanced at the workers. "This is the last stop. Once this batch of goods is delivered, everyone will receive their wages. Those who need to rest can rest, and those who need to spend time with their wives and children can spend time with their wives and children."

A few smiles appeared on the faces of the men.

The waiter brought over a teapot and filled the large bowls in front of each person.

"Master Ma," the waiter asked with a grin, "what kind of goods are you hauling this time?"

Master Ma picked up his teacup and blew on it. "Just some ordinary little trinkets, not worth much, but the journey is long and tiring."

Just as Master Ma picked up his bowl to drink, a loud noise suddenly erupted in the inn.

"Check, please!"

Peter slammed his hand on the table, the sound drawing everyone's attention in the lobby.

The waiter was startled by the commotion and almost dropped the kettle.

He put down the kettle, turned around and walked towards Peter's table, a professional smile on his face, as if he had seen all kinds of customers before.

"Have you finished eating, sir? That'll be thirty coins in total."

"The price isn't expensive; it's fair." Peter nodded.

The waiter's smile had just relaxed when Peter spoke again, "But I just won't give it to him."

The waiter's smile froze on his face.

"...Is there something you're not satisfied with, sir? Is the food too salty? Too bland? Please tell me, and I'll have the kitchen make a new one."

"The taste is alright." Peter placed his chopsticks on the empty bowl. "But I just don't want to give it to him."

"Look at what you're saying, sir. Your outfit is probably worth more than our shop. It's our honor to have you come to our inn. Consider this meal on our behalf. Please forgive us if there's anything wrong with it."

"Oh? You're going to put up with this? Well, what if I said I not only don't want to pay the bill, but I also want you to give me some money back?" Peter sat there, not moving an inch.

The waiter paused for a moment, then bent down and leaned forward. "Sir, would you like to know the price?"

Thirty taels.

The waiter's smile remained unchanged: "Thirty taels it is, I'll go get it for you right away."

"Gold," Peter added the last two words.

The waiter's smile finally cracked.

He straightened up, the smile on his face gradually fading away, as if someone had peeled a layer of skin off his face to reveal the hard bones underneath. "Sir, are you perhaps here on purpose to cause trouble?"

"Looking for trouble?" Peter picked up the chopsticks on the table and tapped them lightly on the edge of the empty bowl.

"I'm asking for compensation for emotional distress. Not only did you poison a perfectly good dish, but you also made it taste terrible. Do you know what I was thinking when I ate that dish? I was wondering if the chef had a grudge against this dish."

The moment the word "poisoning" was uttered, the lobby fell silent.

The casual diners at the corner table put down their chopsticks, while the caravan workers at the door table simultaneously looked at Master Ma.

Master Ma's hand, holding the teacup, froze in mid-air, the tea inside swaying slightly.

The waiter's face darkened completely. He stared at Peter and said in a low voice, "Sir, you can eat whatever you want, but you can't say whatever you want."

Peter put his chopsticks back on the bowl, looked up at him, and said, "Then tell me, was that extra bit of stuff in my dish accidentally dropped in by your cook, or was it deliberately sprinkled on?"

Before Peter could finish speaking, Xiao Er reached behind his waist with his right hand, and a cold glint appeared from under the hem of his clothes.

It was a short dagger used for boning, with the blade ground extremely thin. It was used to stab Peter in the chest, and the movement was swift; the person was no novice.

Peter raised his left hand and gripped Xiao Er's wrist with his five fingers, tightening it like an iron clamp.

With a crack, the sound of bones breaking rang out.

The waiter's fierce expression instantly twisted into a deathly pale color, his mouth gaped open, and a mournful howl, inhuman, escaped his throat.

The dagger clattered to the ground, and the man clutched his wrist, collapsing to his knees, trembling all over.

Master Ma suddenly stood up.

Several of his men behind him kicked aside the bench at the same time, their hands already reaching into their coats.

Master Ma didn't turn around, but whispered, "Let's go."

But it was too late.

The inn's door was kicked open from the outside, and the two door panels slammed against the wall, causing dust to fall from the door frame.

A group of twenty-odd people filed in, led by a man with a thick beard who carried a large, gleaming sword with the iron rings on the back of the blade rattling with each step he took.

Behind him, some of the followers held axes, some carried clubs, and several others carried crossbows with bolts already nocked and arrows gleaming coldly under the oil lamp.

The bearded man slung his broadsword over his shoulder, grinned, and said, "Master Ma, don't be in such a hurry. You've traveled such a long way, it's not too late to sit down and have some tea before you go on your way."

His entourage completely blocked the entrance to the inn.

Master Ma stood in front of the table without moving.

He glanced at the person at the door, then at Peter, who was still sitting motionless in the corner: "Who are you? What do you want?"