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[h3][u][color=6ecff6]Xincai, Henan[/color][/u][/h3]
[b][i]A Xia's Duty...[/i][/b]
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	Hyun-Woo slipped his thumb into the sash at his waist, nudging it just enough to push his sheathed jian through. With both arms free, though he almost felt naked without a "cane," he approached the young lady again. Being taller and generally more fit, he caught up with her stride easily.

[@OwO] "Please, let me help you carry all that." he offered. Sichuan was too far out of the way for him at the moment, but it would be remiss of him as a martial artist not to help someone clearly struggling. At the very least he could make sure she got to her lodgings for the night without being run over by more people or damaging her scrolls. "I am afraid my own quest does not go as far as Sichuan, as I am seeking the Mountain Ravine Fist School here in Henan Province. But I would gladly accompany you to an inn. This is my first time in Xincai, you see, and I hardly know where to look myself."

	If he were to go to Sichuan, how many more weeks or months would that add to his trip? Nonetheless, it wouldn't be right--as a man, as a martial artist, or just as a good person--to completely ignore this plight. Maybe one the stronger martial artists at the Mountain Ravine's school would be willing to take her? Or maybe there was something he could do to help her with her funds--even on the relatively short journey here (in the grand scheme of things) he had seen and heard of martial artists doing various tasks for those with need. In the time after such a long and grueling war, there were many fighters whose purpose for training now seemed to be gone. For some of them, without a war to fight, a life as a mercenary was the only job that could make use of their skills.

	Hyun-Woo's task was merely to deliver a letter from his father, which he wasn't doing for payment. He had wanted to see the world, after becoming more proficient with his own Cultivation, and his father had always regretted never visiting or staying in touch with the school he once trained with in the Middle Kingdom. So the son had offered to carry on that duty, and a month-and-some later here he was. It might be longer than that again before he could return home. He had given the sailors who brought him to Shanghai a letter to take back home, assuring his family that he had made at least that leg of the journey safely, but if he took too long--or jumped into a situation that got him killed--he couldn't imagine their grief. But in a way, this trip was also meant as a test--his father would never hear of him taking off into the wild blue yonder without some assurance that he could take care of himself. And if he couldn't go as far as his father once had, then he had no business stating some lofty desire as "seeing all of the Jianghu with his own eyes..."