Chapter Fifty-Nine: The Token

At this moment, Zhang Xuan couldn’t help but sigh again. This transmigration setting was truly a pitfall—no “golden finger,” no cheat-like artifact, nothing to make life easier. Even making a bit of money was difficult, and there were no convenient paths to pick up easy gains. Sighing would do no good, so he returned to reality. The road was twenty or thirty miles long, and if he really walked all the way to claim a reward, by the time he got back, the opportunity would be gone. Clearly, he needed to come up with another plan.

Zhang Xuan pondered for a while, thinking perhaps he could dig a pit and bury the bodies, but the amount of work involved was daunting—it would take until tomorrow, and might still not be finished. There were no travelers on the road now, but if he waited any longer and someone saw, it would only create more trouble. Surveying the terrain, he realized he’d have to use fire to settle things once and for all.

Zhao Ding had originally been quite confident in his assumption that Zhang Xuan wanted to take these men to the authorities for a reward, but seeing Zhang Xuan still frowning, he wondered if he’d guessed wrong. As he was considering what he might have missed, Zhang Xuan asked for their help.

“Uh, cousin Zhao Yun, there’s something I need to trouble you and your men with.”

“Go ahead, if there’s anything we can do, we’re all willing,” Zhao Ding replied, curious to see how Zhang Xuan would handle these corpses.

“Since there’s no one on the road right now, please have your men dig a small pit in the soft, low-lying area over there, and have the rest gather some firewood. We need to deal with these bodies quickly. If others see them, even though we could claim they were bandits and that we fought in self-defense, it would still bring unnecessary trouble.”

Zhao Ding nodded and instructed his attendants to follow Zhang Xuan’s directions. “Brother…”

“Don’t. You’re cousin to Zhao Yun, so you can call me Zhang Xuan or Xuan, or even brother. Just don’t call me ‘brother’ in that formal way—it gives me chills,” Zhang Xuan interrupted.

“Alright. Since I’m older, I’ll take the liberty and call you Zhang Xuan,” Zhao Ding agreed, nodding. As Zhang Xuan showed no objection, Zhao Ding continued, “Zhang Xuan, do you truly intend to burn the bodies?” It’s worth noting here that in ancient times, bodies were usually buried. While a few regions practiced cremation, it was rare. After the Eastern Han dynasty, when Buddhism was introduced, monks were cremated according to Buddhist rules. Following Emperor Wu’s adoption of Dong Zhongshu’s doctrine to uphold Confucianism, most rulers opposed cremation, viewing it as disrespectful and contrary to filial piety. This tradition persisted, so Zhao Ding was somewhat shocked at Zhang Xuan’s proposal, suspecting he wanted to destroy the evidence.

As for Zhang Xuan, he had already done this once after rescuing Yang Zaixing and the others. Having the soul of a transmigrant, he felt nothing at all about cremation.

“Yes. I don’t know the true identities of these men, but they’re dead and unable to testify. Originally, I thought to bring these supposed bandits to the authorities for a reward, but as you heard from my second brother, it’s twenty or thirty miles to the nearest office—too far, so I gave up. I also thought about leaving the bodies here, but that would cause trouble. Digging a pit to bury them would take too long and risk being seen. Better to burn them and be done with it.”

Just as Zhang Xuan and Zhao Ding were speaking, Yang Hu finished his “profitable expedition,” approaching Zhang Xuan with a cheerful smile—it was clear he’d found something worthwhile.

“Hu, did you find anything on them that could confirm their identities?” Zhang Xuan asked, knowing from Yang Hu’s smile that they’d gotten a little windfall, which could be discussed privately later.

Yang Hu pulled three tokens from his person and handed them to Zhang Xuan. “Xuan, there was nothing else that could prove who they were. I found identical tokens on three of them, though I’ve never seen these tokens before, nor do I recognize the characters. Take a look and see if they help.”

“Tokens?” Zhang Xuan took them, inspecting closely. All three were made of similar material, likely from the same place, and each bore the character for “wood.” Zhang Xuan handed them to Zhao Ding to see if he recognized their origin, since these men had followed Zhao Ding’s party.

Zhao Ding accepted the tokens, examined them carefully, and passed them around to his companions. Aside from recognizing the “wood” character, none of them knew where the tokens came from. Judging by their expressions, Zhang Xuan felt they genuinely didn’t know.

Zhao Ding, still holding a token, was curious about who had orchestrated the attack on him. After all, he was simply traveling to study, and to be pursued and threatened by an organized group sparked his anger. He said to Zhang Xuan, “Brother Zhang Xuan, I don’t know where these tokens come from, but may I keep one? When I meet my father, I’ll show it to him and see if he can identify who sent these men after me. My knowledge is far less than his.”

Zhang Xuan nodded, handing one token to Zhao Ding and keeping the other two. He mused that the tokens might fetch a bit of money; as for who was behind them, that was not his concern. With so many people in the world, it was unlikely he’d accidentally sell it to the mastermind. If such a rare coincidence did occur, he’d accept it—it was found, after all.

“Zhao Ding, do you have any guesses about who sent these men?” Zhang Xuan asked as he tucked the remaining tokens into his pocket.

Zhao Ding thought for a moment, then shook his head. “I do suspect someone, but I don’t think things have escalated to the point of trying to kill me.”