Chapter 77

Our Discord Server: https://discord.gg/PazjBDkTmW

Chapter 77: Baletaberke and the Thief

The elder led Lin Mo’s hand toward a nearby yurt and asked, "My name is Buranbai. Kazakhs do not have surnames like the Han people, so you can directly call me Uncle Buranbai. May I ask how to address you, guest? Where are you headed?"

Buranbai means "wind" in Kazakh.

"I’m Morin, and I’m traveling alone," Lin Mo replied, adopting a new identity name. He made his intention clear; his journey was no secret, and this otherworldly name had the least chance of revealing anything.

"Traveling?!" Elder Buranbai paused for a moment. "I advise you not to go further south. That area is desert and really dangerous to enter alone." From what he knew, the south was the activity area for East Turkestan separatists. A young man traveling alone, especially a Han Chinese, was indeed worrisome.

"It’s fine! I have friends nearby in town for business, and I won’t be going too far south." Lin Mo quickly offered an excuse to cover up.

In the early 1990s, after the Central Asian countries gained independence, separatist groups operating in Kazakhstan and other Central Asian countries posed a threat to the region’s security under the banner of "East Turkestan," continuing their terrorist activities.

Colonel Xie from the Intelligence Group had provided Lin Mo with a map detailing the area’s power dynamics, revealing shadows of separatist groups like the "World Uyghur Congress," "East Turkestan Islamic Movement," and "Uyghur Party."

"How about I have my second son Baletaberke guide you? He can protect you. My sons are all like eagles of the steppe!" Buranbai gestured toward several burly Kazakh men who were dragging a fat sheep from the flock, preparing to butcher it.

Facing Uncle Buranbai’s warmth, Lin Mo found it hard to refuse. Having a local guide would indeed increase his safety a bit. "Okay then, thank you, Uncle Buranbai."

"Hehe, good! You are surely a guest sent by the Almighty, just as it should be!" Buranbai smiled broadly, his white beard quivering with glee. He felt somewhat embarrassed before when Lin Mo insisted on returning the horse he had rescued from the horse thieves, but now Lin Mo’s acceptance of his kindness made his heart feel more balanced.

Night fell over the vast grasslands, the green landscape turning to black.

Inside the yurt, sparks flew from the stove, and the scent of spiced lamb, mixed with the sweetness of mare’s milk, lifted everyone’s spirits.

Buranbai personally fetched water for Lin Mo to wash his hands, then placed a platter of roasted lamb before him. Following tradition, Lin Mo first cut a piece of meat from the lamb’s jaw and tasted it, then cut off the left ear, finally returning the lamb’s head to Uncle Buranbai.

After completing this process, the dinner officially began, featuring hand-held lamb, horse sausage, deep-fried bread, pilaf, and zhenerte (a cold dish made from millet, flour, oil, and honey). Lin Mo enjoyed the meal without hesitation because being overly polite here would actually be disrespectful to his hosts. The more he ate, the happier the hosts would be; this was a common trait among hospitable nomadic people.

As dawn broke, Lin Mo rode with his chestnut horse alongside Uncle Buranbai’s son, Baletaberke, heading south into the morning light. Baletaberke was a quiet man with a ruddy complexion. Although he understood and could speak a few simple phrases in Mandarin, he communicated mostly through gestures with Lin Mo.

By noon, they made do with some dried meat, naan, and milk tea as their meal. They had already approached the border between the grassland and desert, with the once lush pasture gradually thinning and larger stones appearing. It wasn’t until evening that Lin Mo and Baletaberke spotted the flickering lights of a small town in the distance.

"There, guns and people. It’s very dangerous! Be careful!" Baletaberke clearly had heard about this town. Although it did not have a name and was hard to find on maps, he knew it was a gathering spot for outlaws, criminals, and fortune seekers. Those here, apart from adventurers hoping for a quick score, were mostly dangerous individuals.

Baletaberke, like his father, could not understand why this young man from China was determined to venture into such a place. However, there were too many mysteries in the world to understand, and Buranbai and his son did not intend to stop him repeatedly but could only offer kind reminders.

"I understand, thank you for bringing me here, Baletaberke. You should return now; I will take care of myself," Lin Mo said, having seen the meeting point on the map. Dismounting, he slung his backpack over his shoulders and handed the reins and whip to Baletaberke. "Okay, I won’t need the chestnut horse anymore, so take it back and please thank Uncle Buranbai for me!"

The ruddy-faced Kazakh man looked toward the town, furrowing his brows. He hesitated for a moment, shook his head, and did not take the reins and whip from Lin Mo. "No, I will accompany you inside. Otherwise, I won’t feel at ease. My father will also scold me!"

Although his Mandarin was stilted and difficult, it was clear that this kind-hearted man genuinely cared for Lin Mo.

"You really are stubborn!" Lin Mo shook his head, retracting the reins. He nodded, not dismissing Baletaberke’s good intentions. "Alright, we can stay in the town tonight, and you can head back in the morning! Don’t worry!"

The dangers mentioned by Uncle Buranbai and Baletaberke posed no threat to Lin Mo at all.

Since he had come, he might as well take bold action. The Gold Coins on his wrist seemed to sense Lin Mo’s battle spirit, the crystalline surface rippling like a tiny wave.

This town did not seem different from others, filled with fellow travelers like himself—some on horseback, others driving, some walking alone, and others in groups. Lin Mo and Baletaberke blended in easily as they walked down the street, drawing no unusual glances.

Perhaps this town on the edge of the desert saw many outsiders, with various races present. The Kazakh and Han people did not differ much in appearance, especially with Lin Mo accompanied by a genuine Kazakh man in traditional dress. This natural camouflage kept Lin Mo from standing out too much.

"Ouch!" A young boy’s voice suddenly rang out as Lin Mo felt a collision. He lowered his gaze, searching for the meeting point, only to find a small boy had bumped into him.

"Извините (I’m sorry)! Извините (I’m sorry)!" The boy apologized in a voice that sounded like Russian, nodding and bowing repeatedly before Lin Mo.

Kazakhstan was formerly a Soviet republic, and although Kazakh is the national language, Russian remains an official language.

"Get lost, brat!" Baletaberke glared at the boy and shouted in Kazakh, showing no respect. In a place like this, an unexpected collision was undoubtedly not a good omen.

The little boy did not dare to respond, his face paling as he hurriedly bent back, trying to leave, when suddenly a hand clutched his shoulder and pulled him back.

"Boy, give me back my wallet!" Lin Mo said directly. Though he did not understand Kazakh or Russian, he had keenly noticed that after he spoke, the boy’s eyes darted around in panic. Clearly, he understood Mandarin too.

The boy hurriedly shook his head, waving his hands and speaking a language Lin Mo did not comprehend.

Covering up the truth! Lin Mo smiled; pretending not to understand while shaking his head was clearly an act. He wasted no time, immediately searching the boy and pulling out a yellow leather wallet—complete with cash and cards.

The moment the wallet was pried from his possession, the boy’s face turned ashen, and he struggled desperately to escape from the owner’s grip. In some parts of Central Asia, a captured thief could be at risk of losing a hand, especially for horse thieves, who might even be killed on the spot.

But a mere child could not match a Dragon Knight’s strength; no matter how hard the boy struggled, Lin Mo’s grip did not loosen. Younger than Lin Mo, he had managed to steal from him, showing he had some cunning. While the wallet was a small matter, Lin Mo was actually hoping to ask a local about the informant’s details, and this little guy had inadvertently come to him.

A smile appeared at the corners of Lin Mo’s mouth.

The boy kept punching and kicking, awkwardly shouting in Mandarin, "Let go, let go! Help! There’s a human trafficker! They’re robbing people!" Indeed, this boy spoke Mandarin and used the tactic of turning the tables, making threats directly aimed at Lin Mo. If Lin Mo panicked, the boy would quickly make a run for it. Here, he was familiar with the territory and could easily hide away in a secret corner.

But what good would that do? As a Dragon Knight, Lin Mo had seen all sorts of situations. As an elite in high-level strategic forces, he underwent specialized training in both this world and the other world. It would be too unfair if an inconspicuous little character managed to take him down without some experience to handle unexpected situations.

The informant in this town was named Aji—a short, chubby man in his fifties with narrow eyes. He had once been a bandit but had turned over a new leaf after marrying a Uyghur wife, sometimes engaging in selling stolen goods for some pocket change. Nobody knew his original name; everyone just called him Aji. Lin Mo was here to connect with him for the next phase of his action plan. In such a complex area with various powers intersecting, it was tough for a stranger to gain inroads without being attacked by vigilant anti-government armed forces or organized crime.

Just as Lin Mo was about to ask for the informant’s address, a stone hurtled through the air with a whistle, crashing towards him.