After settling their mules and horses, Old Master led the caravan hands into the Tongfu Inn.
Wang Chen was among them.
The inn's main hall was enormous, with four sturdy wooden pillars supporting the wide and long roof. There were over a dozen tables inside, and there was also a lofty second floor around the perimeter with many more tables.
Lanterns hung on the walls of the hall, lighting it up brightly, and the sound of voices was a lively bustle.
Merchants and travelers from north to south, hunters, and lone wanderers gathered here, drinking from large bowls and eating meat heartily, some whispering to each other, while others spoke loudly and laughed openly.
The moment Wang Chen stepped over the threshold, he was hit by a blast of hot air mixed with the smell of alcohol and the fragrance of meat.
Perhaps this was the scent of the Martial World!
Old Master skillfully found a spot for the caravan in a corner of the hall where a few tables were still vacant.