Chapter 13: What Use Is This Iron Rod

Xiahou Yan’s eyes snapped open. A bold idea, surging from his dreams, lingered in his mind, instantly banishing all of the Lord’s drowsiness.

He sat up in the darkness and gauged the sky outside the tent, roughly estimating it to be around five or six in the morning, just before dawn.

Anjie Rendall was sleeping on the other side of the tent. The little maid was sleeping soundly, her petite body rising and falling with her breaths. Not wanting to disturb her, Xiahou Yan grabbed a piece of flint from beside his pillow and lit the Lion Lantern. He then rummaged through his clothing bundle and pulled out a short robe embroidered with a gold-threaded goshawk pattern, paired with gray satin trousers. After dressing himself neatly, he pulled on a pair of calfskin riding boots.

Since the convoy’s desperate flight following yesterday’s zombie horde attack, Xiahou Yan had been wearing a simple silk shirt and a light leather jacket, paying little attention to his appearance. Now, having changed into this exquisitely tailored noble attire, he checked himself in the mirror and felt noticeably revitalized, even though his pale, gaunt face remained completely unchanged.

Xiahou Yan patted his waist, feeling a bit empty. The protective Short Sword that Eliot Igor used to wear had also been classified as a "military weapon" by the imperial officials supervising their migration. Like the Guard Team’s equipment, it had been left behind at Eagle’s Rest Castle.

Recalling the sudden flash of inspiration for a plan he had concocted in his dream, he couldn’t help but smack his lips. He really needed to find a handy weapon.

In theory, a Mage’s standard equipment was a Magic Staff with Magic Power amplification effects. However, handing an expensive Magic Staff—priced at hundreds of Gold Coins on the market—to a Mage Academy dropout like him would be casting pearls before swine. It would be an utter waste of a priceless treasure. After all, even the Chief Mage, Victor Laurie, didn’t have his own Magic Staff yet!

He thought about how wonderful it would have been if he could have brought his Walther PPK with him when he crossed over into this world. The Lord began to miss the sidearm from his past life on Earth.

Once everything was in order, Xiahou Yan picked up the lantern and stepped out of the tent.

The eastern horizon was already tinged with a faint white, but since winter was approaching, it would obviously be quite some time before daybreak. Still, the Igor Family migration convoy’s temporary camp was already starting to bustle with activity.

Xiahou Yan noticed that quite a few convoy members had already woken up. Two burly men carrying empty wooden buckets on shoulder poles walked past the Lord and headed west, presumably to fetch fresh daily water from the nearby stream. Meanwhile, five or six peasant women in soiled cloth skirts were busy setting up campfire stoves, already preparing breakfast for the camp.

Whenever these subjects under the Igor Family spotted the Lord, they would respectfully nod in greeting. However, Xiahou Yan uneasily observed that the vast majority of the convoy members trapped in this infected zone had unfocused eyes and apathetic expressions. A faint sense of despair lingered over everyone’s brows.

But soon enough, Xiahou Yan spotted a rare specimen who was still finding joy in this dire situation.

The Guard named Tom Lawrence, whom the Lord had just resurrected last night, was standing cheerfully by the stoves. He was letting curious onlookers touch his forehead to feel his body temperature. Without a doubt, the news of the guards returning from the dead had already spread like wildfire through the camp, turning these living dead who had returned from hell into highly popular "exhibits."

Pondering for a moment, Xiahou Yan walked toward Guard Lawrence. Seeing the Lord approach, the idle crowd of onlookers scattered at once, leaving only Lawrence standing in place. The Guard smiled and bowed to the Lord.

Interestingly, this scruffy, thirty-something middle-aged Guard didn’t perform a simple military salute by thumping his chest with his fist like ordinary guards. Instead, he crossed his legs, placed his left hand behind his back, and flamboyantly swept his right hand down in a grand arc. He executed a full, elaborate aristocratic bow that would have been considered flamboyant even in the highly red-taped court of the Imperial Capital.

"Where did you learn to bow like that?" Xiahou Yan looked at Tom Lawrence with curiosity.

According to this world’s common knowledge of etiquette, the type of bow Lawrence performed might have been popular for a time eighty or ninety years ago. But in recent years, it had long been replaced by simpler and more elegant new customs, leaving one to sigh at how quickly fashion trends changed.

"To answer you, Lord," Lawrence said with a toothy grin, "my ancestors were once nobles of the Empire. This ’Emperor Michael’s Bow’ was taught to me by my mother. She told me that whenever I met a noble of high status, I should perform this bow to show my utmost respect."

Xiahou Yan felt a bit puzzled. "I remember seeing you a few times before. How come I never saw this ’Emperor Whatever’s Bow’ back then?"

Lawrence turned serious. "Before, I didn’t know that you were a Lord willing to sacrifice himself alongside his subjects. My mother said that ’Emperor Michael’s Bow’ is exclusively dedicated to ’noble’ aristocrats!"

Xiahou Yan couldn’t help but laugh. He never expected this seemingly cynical middle-aged Guard to be such a smooth talker. The Lord silently evaluated that this guy had potential.

"Lord, is there a reason you’re up so early?" Lawrence asked with a beaming smile. "Seeing your heroic bearing first thing in the morning has me so excited that my heart has stopped beating!"

Xiahou Yan rolled his eyes. The guy was a resurrected living dead; of course he didn’t have a damn heartbeat anymore.

"I suddenly remembered something in my dream, and now I need to conduct a... simple little experiment." The Lord looked Lawrence up and down, trying to determine if the man was reliable. "I was originally going to ask Captain Alice for help, but since you’re here..."

"Captain Comstock should still be sleeping. Let’s not bother her if there’s business to attend to. Lord, whatever you need help with, I, Tom Lawrence, will not hesitate to deliver!" Lawrence looked incredibly eager.

Xiahou Yan genuinely suspected that his Resurrection Technique might also function as some sort of stimulant.

"Alright, you’ll do." Xiahou Yan thought about it and decided that since Alice wasn’t up yet, he shouldn’t bother her. Having Lawrence around was more or less the same. "Go fetch two horses for me, one for you and one for me. Oh, right, and find me a handy weapon."

Lawrence hesitated. "The horses are easy, but Lord, there are no spare swords or blades left in the convoy..."

"It doesn’t have to be a sword. Any weapon will do," Xiahou Yan waved his hand dismissively. "Go quickly and come back fast."

Lawrence took the order and left, while Xiahou Yan hummed a short Peking opera tune, waiting patiently in place.

A short while later, the middle-aged Guard returned leading two horses. One was a tall plains horse with a dirty coat, which was likely Lawrence’s own mount. The other was a slightly smaller, elegantly postured white horse, clearly handpicked to suit the Lord’s slender build.

"Her name is Meteor, and she’s the best horse in the camp!" Lawrence placed the white horse’s reins into Xiahou Yan’s hands and winked as if claiming credit.

"Did you find me a weapon?" Gripping the reins, Xiahou Yan patted Meteor’s flank, not forgetting his other crucial requirement.

Lawrence’s expression suddenly stiffened. "Well... I really couldn’t find anything else. Just make do with this for now..."

Under the Lord’s skeptical gaze, the Guard pulled a metal rod-like object from behind his back and handed it over with a sheepish smile.

Xiahou Yan took the metal rod and held it up to his eyes to examine it. No matter how he looked at it, this solid cast-iron metal bar with flattened ends—one of which was curved—seemed a bit familiar...

"Fuck!" The Lord suddenly realized what this was. It was a fucking crowbar! Dr. Gordon Freeman’s Holy Sword of Physics!

"This is the only thing left in the camp that can be used as a weapon..." Lawrence shrank his neck. "There really is nothing else..."

Xiahou Yan forcefully suppressed the anger rising in his heart. Stepping his right foot into the stirrup, he vaulted onto the horse’s back, instantly drawing a unified cheer from the passing subjects. Everyone felt that at this moment, the Lord’s magnificent attire from head to toe, paired with the fine steed beneath him, exuded a dashing and unrestrained handsomeness! Except, of course, for the crowbar tucked into the Lord’s belt.

Sitting on horseback, Mr. Xiahou secretly swore that if this experiment succeeded and won the convoy a glimmer of hope for survival, he would definitely use this eyesore of a crowbar to knock Lawrence’s teeth out!