Yuan Ming heard the old man say this and was also taken aback, somewhat confused.

"Sorry, my apologies, I didn't mean to offend, dear guest, please don't mind." Old Smoke Bag's eyes flashed as he apologized repeatedly.

"Take me to my room, please." Yuan Ming gestured with his hand and said.

The old man hurriedly nodded and bowed, walking ahead, calling out and leading the way, taking Yuan Ming out of the main hall through the back door, along a corridor, and into the inner courtyard.

The yard was filled with quite a few trees, offering a rather serene environment, though the rooms they passed along the way were almost all pitch-dark.

"There seem to be quite a few people in this town, but the business of this inn doesn't seem to be too good." Yuan Ming silently criticized in his mind.

Upon arriving at the back courtyard, he once again saw that wooden young man, who was feeding hay to his horse.

Following Old Smoke Bag, he arrived at the innermost guest room, which had simple furnishings, just decent enough, but on the whole, Yuan Ming was quite satisfied. It was much better than the rural inns he had stayed in before, and naturally, the price was also much higher.

"Guest, you may rest assuredly here, do you need any meals in the evening?" the old man inquired.

"No need, if there's nothing important at night, I would prefer not to be disturbed," Yuan Ming said and tossed a silver coin over.

His Storage Bag still had grilled Fierce Beast Meat, so he didn't plan to eat the food provided by the inn.

"Alright, no problem. You should rest early then." Old Smoke Bag caught the silver coin, his eyes lighting up, he bit on it and then turned to leave.

Just then, Yuan Ming suddenly asked, "By the way, shopkeeper, do you know of an old incense workshop in town called 'Fortune Workshop'?"

Hearing this, Old Smoke Bag halted, took the silver coin out of his mouth and put it in his pocket.

"You're asking about this, to buy incense and candles? If you need those, I also have a general store, we sell them there, and I can give you a good price," Old Smoke Bag asked with a smile.

"I'm not looking to buy incense; I want to learn the craft of Incense Making. Do you know where the workshop is located?" Yuan Ming shook his head and asked.

"Oh, I do know of the place, it's just a bit out of the way. You might find it difficult to locate on your own. How about this, I'll take some time tomorrow morning to take you there?" Old Smoke Bag offered with a simple smile.

"That would be much appreciated," Yuan Ming thanked him.

Old Smoke Bag closed the door for him and walked back into the yard.

The young man who fed the hay to Yuan Ming's horse had not left yet and seemed to be waiting for him.

"Dad, how was it, is he wealthy?" The young man's expression remained dull, but his speech was very brisk.

Immediately, Old Smoke Bag raised a finger to his lips, signaling the young man to follow him.

The two left the back courtyard, and only then did Old Smoke Bag light his tobacco pipe, took a puff, and exhaled a stream of white smoke from the corner of his mouth. Then, he slowly began, "It's a pity..."

"What, he's a pauper? Anyone with a horse to ride surely can't be a pauper, right?" The young man, surprised, raised his eyebrows inquiringly.

"If he had come half a year earlier, maybe we could have earned another bounty, but now... it's somewhat awkward," Old Smoke Bag didn't answer his son's question but mused.

"Dad, what are you talking about?" The young man asked, not understanding.

"Nothing much, this young man could be our family's noble, we need to treat him well." After saying this, Old Smoke Bag walked toward the front courtyard, smoking his pipe and walking with a swagger.

...

The next day, not long after the curfew was lifted.

Yuan Ming woke from his cultivation, stretched lazily, warmed up his body, and then hurried to the front courtyard.

Old Smoke Bag was sitting at the entrance of the main hall, watching the people on the street outside.

The city gate had just opened not long ago, and there were already plenty of small traders on the streets, yet there was no business to attract.

Old Smoke Bag smoked his pipe, his gaze somewhat distant, seemingly lost in thought.

After Yuan Ming greeted him, he quickly stood up.

The two exchanged a few words, and Old Smoke Bag slapped his forehead, saying, "Ah, I almost forgot, I promised to take you to find the incense workshop yesterday."

Having said that, he called his son to watch the shop while he himself led Yuan Ming along the streets toward the interior of the town.

The bustling Iron Tiger Town was naturally less lively compared to the Da Jin Capital Yuan Ming had seen before, but the buildings around them bore more of the Southern Border's charm, and the calls of the vendors had a different flavor, offering a distinctive experience.

Old Smoke Bag acted like a qualified tour guide, explaining the town's situation to Yuan Ming as they walked, and occasionally greeting acquaintances they encountered along the way.

After walking the main street for the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, Old Smoke Bag led Yuan Ming through a turn into a side alley.

Walking along the narrow alley for quite some time, until they could no longer hear the bustling of the main street, they finally arrived at the location of the incense workshop.

But upon arrival, Yuan Ming was greatly disappointed.

It was a courtyard of moderate size, with a copper lock hanging on the gate, covered in cobwebs and a thick layer of dust.

The stone steps in front of the courtyard were also full of fallen leaves and debris, indicating that it had been uninhabited for quite some time.

"This is the incense workshop?" Yuan Ming frowned and said.

"Yes, indeed, this is it, you see their sign is still up there." Old Smoke Bag pointed with his pipe stem to a dirty and worn-out signboard hanging on the doorframe and said.

Yuan Ming took a closer look, and indeed, the words "Fortune" were faintly engraved, but of the third character "Workshop," only the left part "Wood" remained.

"What's happened here, have they moved?" Yuan Ming wondered aloud.

"I'm not very clear on the matter, guest. Please wait a moment, I'll go ask around for you," said Old Smoke Bag as he approached a neighboring house to knock on the door.

An old woman in coarse clothes came out from inside, exchanged a few words with Old Smoke Bag, and then closed the door to return inside.

"I've found out. The neighbors say that the owner of this workshop got addicted to gambling a year ago and lost everything to his addiction. His wife ran off with someone half a year ago, and he has rarely been seen since," Old Smoke Bag reported back to Yuan Ming.

"He turned out to be a gambler…" Yuan Ming responded, dumbfounded.

"What do you want to do next? Shall we go back, or shall I ask around some more for you?" Old Smoke Bag inquired.

"I'd still like to meet him before deciding," Yuan Ming thought, having come this far, it was only right to ask around.

"Alright. Then I'll inquire further on your behalf," Old Smoke Bag offered.

"Thank you very much. If you can truly find him, I will surely reward you handsomely," Yuan Ming quickly expressed his gratitude.

Upon hearing this promise, Old Smoke Bag's eyes gleamed.

"What do you say, should we try our luck at the gambling house? Once someone falls into the grasp of gambling, it's tough to quit. He may not return home, but he's likely to visit the gambling house," Old Smoke Bag suggested suddenly.

"Indeed. Even if we don't find him at the gambling house, we might encounter someone who knows him," Yuan Ming responded, finding the idea sensible.

"Exactly," nodded Old Smoke Bag in agreement.

"Then, how many gambling houses are there in this town? Why don't you tell me where they are, and we can split up to search?" Yuan Ming proposed.

"No need, no need. Although there are several gambling houses in town, the closest one here is called 'Mountain River Gambling House.' You know the old saying, 'Travel far for pleasure, but gamble near home.' If that person were to go, he'd most likely be there. It's still early; let's head there together," Old Smoke Bag chuckled.

Yuan Ming naturally nodded in agreement.

The two quickly left the alley and returned to the main street.

After walking a distance to the north, they soon saw a towering, grand building.

This building had three stories, each about two zhang high, built entirely of nanmu wood. What was special about this building was that on one side stood a man-made hill three to four zhang high, while on the right side flowed a man-made stream about two zhang wide, half-encircling the building.

Outside the main entrance hung a string of diamond-shaped wooden plaques, carved with dice numbers on one side and inscribed with "Mountain River Gambling House" in Southern Border script on the other.

Yuan Ming followed Old Smoke Bag, one in front of the other, as they approached the gambling house, only to see two sturdy men standing outside the main gate, with a thick fabric curtain hanging above.

Old Smoke Bag, quite familiar with the two men, greeted them and then lifted the curtain to enter.

The instant the heavy curtain was raised, a cacophony of shouting mixed with the clatter of dice and the thud of Pai Gow tiles emanated from within.

A hot, unpleasant odor also assaulted their senses.

Old Smoke Bag led Yuan Ming inside, where they saw nine gambling tables in the pleasantly spacious first floor of the gambling house.

Yuan Ming glanced quickly around and saw that five tables were gambling on dice, guessing the highs and lows; another three were playing Pai Gow, while the last one showcased a betting method he had not seen before — just black and white round pebbles.

"I'll go and make some inquiries for you," Old Smoke Bag said before heading towards a dice table.

Yuan Ming didn't just stand around; he approached a Pai Gow table.

There were only seven or eight people at the table, but more than a dozen or twenty onlookers, their faces red with excitement and their hands itching to play.

However, some only had shallow pockets, while others found no space to join in, so their expressions varied.

Yuan Ming patted the shoulder of a disheveled-looking middle-aged man on the outside, who turned around and asked impatiently:

"What do you want?"

"Brother, could you help me with something?" asked Yuan Ming.

The middle-aged man waved his hand impatiently, saying, "Don't know, don't know..." before turning back to the table.

Yuan Ming then patted the shoulder of a short man who was standing on his tiptoes and craning his neck to see the table.

The man turned to Yuan Ming, less impatient but still cold, "What's it?"

"Brother, could I trouble you with a question?" asked Yuan Ming.

"Spit it out, I'm busy here!" the short man said with a frown.

"Do you know where the owner of 'Fortune Workshop' here in town has gone?" Yuan Ming asked.

"Are you talking about Wu Sang?" the short man asked, raising an eyebrow.

Only then did Yuan Ming realize that he had presumed finding the owner of such a long-standing workshop would be without major difficulties, and had not considered learning the owner's name.

Instinctively, he wanted to ask Old Smoke Bag, but when he turned his head, he noticed that the old man had disappeared without a trace.

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