Chapter 128 Traveling Merchant

Words : 1143 Updated : Sep 17th, 2025

A burst of fire exploded where he stood, twin pillars of heat kicking up sand and smoke. For the sharp-eyed, for the ones fast enough to track him, they'd see it—his body cutting through the night sky like a blazing comet, soaring high, aimed straight for the village. Its entrance sat between the narrowest part of this path, a towering mountain on each side. It acted as a natural choke point, the path completely blocked off, barring any caravan from entering without their knowledge. But that wasn't where the real village was. The heart of it was deeper, hidden within the right mountain, its structures tucked into the stone, making it quite a cold place, especially now, at night. Fwoosh! Malik cleared the outer gate, twisted midair, and dropped straight down. He hit the ground in a roll, absorbing the impact, his landing soft. The guards didn't hear a damn thing. But they would. They would. Malik took a breath, then another, before straightening up. He flexed his fingers, feeling the heat lingering under his skin. The guards? Yeah, they were right there, standing guard on the only path leading to the village, but he wasn't going to bother sneaking past, searching around for the Caliph. No, too much work. He picked up a rock. A good-sized one, smooth, fit nice in his palm.@@@@ '...No. I shouldn't be quick to resort to violence.' Then, after a thought, he threw it away, changing his mind. Instead, he did something real stupid. Or real genius... It depended on how you looked at it. Malik walked straight up to them, smiling like they were old friends. "My friends!" He threw his arms wide. "You're not gonna believe this, but I'm actually late for my meeting with the Caliph. Real embarrassing. You know how it is. Could you lead me to him?" The guards blinked. Confused. Suspicious. "We haven't seen—" One of them started to speak, but Malik just kept going: "No, you have not. So here's the deal. You could stop me. You could make this a whole thing. Or," he clapped a hand on the nearest guard's shoulder, "you could just pretend I'm supposed to be here and let me through. Easy. No hassle. If you don't wanna guide me, I'll ask someone else, don't worry. I won't hold it against you." The guards exchanged looks. One of them frowned, but the other? The other hesitated. Malik pounced on that hesitation... figuratively speaking, of course. "See, I could explain myself..." His voice dropped to a whisper. "But I'm not supposed to. It's one of those secretive, high-level, 'if you know, you know' kind of meetings. Very hush-hush." He made a dramatic zipping motion across his lips. "Wouldn't want to get you in trouble." More hesitation. More uncertainty. Then, somehow—against all logic—the guards just... let him through. "Go ahead." Malik strolled in, waving a cheerful goodbye like he hadn't just pulled off one of the dumbest, most effective bluffs of his life. His smile disappeared straight after, and his usual frown returned, making him look like a completely different person. Despite all that was happening, the village was alive. Lanterns swung from stone buildings. People milled about, their conversations hushed, their eyes darting. Many smoked their Hookahs, sitting outside taverns, others had tea, and some played chess, dominos, and the like. A variety of activities, but now, all did one thing... "Who?" Watch this stranger with interested eyes. The braver ones looked him up and down, trying to place him. Malik gestured for one of them, all confidence, no shame. "Take me to your Caliph." Silence. Tension. Then a guy—big, scarred, missing half an ear—stepped forward, arms crossed. "You ain't got the right to demand shit." Malik gasped... Gasped. Ali Baba's eyes narrowed. "Naser Al-Sultan?! The leader's child?" "Yes." Malik leaned against the wall and added: "...That explains the attacks." The Caliph continued: "Yes. The bandits aren't just attacking for supplies. They want him as a hostage. We've held them off for now, but they won't stop." Copying Ali Baba's usual move, Malik drummed his fingers against his elbow. Your adventure continues at My Virtual Library Empire "So, why not just... I don't know, rat the kid out? Send him back? Pack him up in a nice little box and ship him home?" Yunan's eyes darkened, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Because a favor was asked of me. One I could not refuse." Ali Baba leaned in slightly, intrigued. "Could not, or would not?" The Caliph's expression didn't change, but there was a shift in the air. Heavy. Unspoken words thick in the space between them. Malik let out a low whistle. "Must be one Hell of a favor." Yunan chuckled dryly. "You could say that... When certain people ask for something, refusal is not an option." "And what happens if the bandits do get their hands on him? What's their end goal?" The Caliph's jaw tensed at Ali Baba's question. "Then Naser Al-Sultan will weaken. And a whole lot more than just our little village will burn." Ali Baba exhaled, rubbing at his chin. "And yet, you say you don't want us to help?" The Caliph paused, contemplating. "No." "So we now know of this information, and go on our merry ways?" Ali Baba poked at the context itself. Malik remained quiet, letting his employer do the talking while his thoughts swirled in a different direction. "Yes." "Then was there any need to humor that question?" Ali Baba's usual demeanor—the calm and focused one, had vanished. Or rather, dissolved. He sounded imposing, almost—almost as if burrowing through some invisible yet tangible mess of emotions. "You people are traveling merchants." "Uh-huh." The Caliph's eye twitched. "This is not your fight." Ali Baba simply stared at him, as if trying to see how long he could keep his intentions hidden. "I suppose we continue then." Malik gave him some respite. Ali Baba's eyes slowly regressed back to their usual state, the one of a sly merchant yet also that of a caring father. "I suppose so." They turned, and their steps noisily—deliberately, echoed in the surroundings. "This is not your fight. However, Malik of Al-Zayni..." The Caliph–Yunan, turned around staring at something distant before staring at his throne. "You will remember. And when you hear of us later..." He sat down once again, yet this time—it wasn't out of responsibility. It was an acceptance of fate. And an accusation. "..." "..." "..." Silence stretched between them. They left the hall. Outside, Ali Baba sighed, shaking his head. "Damn it. Why do we always end up in these messes?"

Chapter 128 Traveling Merchant

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