Chapter 12
Golden sunlight gently bathed Xiaoyan Town as its surviving residents emerged from their homes. Last night, cultivators had clashed above the town, and the powerful spiritual pressure had affected Xiaoyan to varying degrees, tearing the roofs off many houses.
Intermittent cries had echoed since the previous night, and some households now hung white lanterns. The Apricot Blossom Pavilion lay in ruins, its charred beams still flickering with scattered flames. Those trapped inside had been cremated alive, never seeing the world’s final moments.
The cultivation world was this brutal—might ruled over life and death.
Constable Zhu stood in the open space before Apricot Blossom Pavilion. He’d drunk heavily the night before and awoke to the sound of massive explosions. When he came to, Xiaoyan Town was in utter chaos!
Zhu’s face darkened as he sighed. “These cultivators are truly lawless…” Those he’d shared drinks with yesterday were now ashes today. Who could bear such cruelty? Cultivators showed no mercy to mortals, yet Zhu was powerless to stop them.
“Boss! Two cultivator corpses found in the woods!” Zhu’s subordinate shouted from a distance, sending a chill down Zhu’s spine. “What?!”
Everyone in Xiaoyan Town had assumed the cultivators had fought last night and fled immediately. Though they’d heard beast cries afterward, no one dared venture out to investigate. The thought that cultivators had actually perished in Xiaoyan Town left Zhu feeling utterly helpless.
Once, when cultivators perished in a mortal town, their sects came seeking vengeance. When the true culprits weren’t found, the enraged cultivators slaughtered the entire town’s populace.
When Zhu finally saw the two corpses, all he wanted was a quiet place to compose himself. “These two cultivators… they’re not from the same sect, are they?”
On the ground lay two bodies. One was a delicate, purple-robed female corpse. Her dantian had been pierced by a sharp blade, life long since extinguished. The other corpse belonged to an old man with snow-white hair and beard, his yellowish-white robe torn to shreds like his own body.
Mu Jiaoqian had died by Tian Jizi’s hand, yet Tian Jizi himself had fallen to the demonic leopard’s claws. One could only say fate was unpredictable and cruel. Look at this—both had met their ends.
Constable Zhu crouched on the ground, sighing deeply as he rubbed his face. This was truly a headache. Mortal cultivators had died within his jurisdiction. If ordinary people had died, he could at least do something to console the spirits. But when cultivators fought among themselves, there was little he could do. Thinking about what would happen next, Constable Zhu wished the rafters had collapsed last night, crushing his arm or leg.
With the soul lamps of cultivators from the Extreme Bliss Immortal Sect and the Limitless Immortal Sect extinguished, their sects would undoubtedly send investigators to probe the cause and effect. Who knew how they might torment this group of mortals then?
While Constable Zhu was headache-ridden, Ah Heng and the other two weren’t faring any better. They hadn’t slept well all night. Only as dawn approached did Er Gou and the others crawl into the dilapidated temple for a brief nap. By the time they awoke, the sun was already high in the sky, its glare beating down on their faces.
Ah Heng hadn’t slept. He’d already cleared away most of the debris from the collapsed half of the temple. This was home to him, Old Wen, and Er Gouzi. If the temple vanished, they’d have to find somewhere else to live. But where could they possibly find a place as suitable as this?
“Oh dear…” Old Wen shook his head at the temple missing half its roof. “What are we to do? Looks like rain’s coming these next few days. Guess we’ll have to take showers in the open air.”
Er Gou also grew worried. “The house is ruined. If the demon beasts come again, we won’t even have a place to hide.”
Ah Heng smiled faintly as he pulled out a storage pouch. “I have spirit stones. We can repair the temple. It’s also a good chance to restore the Golden Statue of the Dao Ancestor.”
Er Gouzi and Old Wen paused, then broke into wide grins. “Really? Spirit stones? Why stay in this shack then? We could buy a house in Xiaoyan Town!”
Ah Heng carried the bag of spirit stones, convinced that Old Wen and the others had made a compelling case. A low-grade spirit stone could fetch a hundred taels of gold, one tael of gold could buy ten taels of silver, and one tael of silver was worth a thousand copper coins—enough for two steamed buns! A single spirit stone could buy several houses in Xiaoyan Town!
Old Wen and Er Gouzi flanked Ah Heng on either side, their excitement palpable. “Hurry up and open it! How many spirit stones are in there?”
Ah Heng carefully untied the cord securing the bag. “Old Master Mu gave it to me yesterday. I didn’t examine it closely, but it felt like there should be several stones inside.” It was heavy, so there had to be more than one.
But when he opened it, all three froze. Inside the dusty sack lay only a small handful of powder. Where were the spirit stones?
Old Wen grumbled, “Ancestor Mu tricked you.”
Ah Heng scratched his cheek. “No way. I distinctly felt spiritual energy fluctuations yesterday.”
Er Gouzi said, “The spirit stones Old Master Mu gave us died along with her.”
Ah Heng pondered, “Maybe when that cultivator chased me last night, his spiritual energy shattered the stones.” The more he thought about it, the more plausible it seemed.
Er Gouzi cursed furiously, “Damn cultivators! Can’t they do any good deeds? Serve him right to get mauled by a leopard yesterday!”
Old Wen took it in stride, “Enough, enough. If it wasn’t meant to be, we’d better figure out how to patch up this dilapidated temple. We can’t let it collapse completely.”
Fortunately, broken trees littered the area, and Ah Heng was strong. If worse came to worst, they could just cobble together a makeshift thatched hut. After all, half the temple still stood. The three beggars resigned themselves to their fate.
Er Gouzi leaned in. “Ah Heng, did you break that leopard’s leg yesterday? Do you think that leopard might have companions? Could they come looking for revenge?”
Ergouzi’s words sent a chill down Lao Wentou’s spine. “Yeah, yeah! Such a huge demon beast—what if it comes back for us? That’d be bad. Why don’t the three of us go begging in the next town? Better than waiting to die here.”
Ah Heng replied calmly, “It won’t.”
Old Wen scoffed, “How can you be so sure? What if it does come back?”
Ah Heng smiled faintly. “I don’t think that leopard have any interest in us.”
Old Wen covered his face. “True enough. We’ve got no money, no house. Even if they sold us three, we wouldn’t fetch much. Well, life and death are predestined, wealth and honor are in the heavens. Let’s not dwell on it. Let’s just figure out how to fix the house.”
Autumn had already arrived. After a few autumn rains, the weather would grow colder and colder. They needed a place to shelter from the wind and rain.
Old Wen and Gouzi focused on building the house these past few days. Fortunately, they’d made a decent haul from Xinghua Pavilion a few days ago, so they could wait until the house was finished before going out to beg again. It was also fortunate that the house had collapsed, preventing the two from going to Xiaoyan Town to gossip. Otherwise, learning that the Apricot Blossom Pavilion had been completely destroyed, that many people in the town had died, and connecting it to Ah Heng’s uncanny knack for predicting misfortune—Old Wen might have scared himself to death.
Because up to now, everything Ah Heng had said had come true.
Ah Heng worked like ten men. He single-handedly hauled over a dozen logs as thick as a man’s waist. Before the ruined temple, wielding an axe nearly blunted to a dull edge, he managed to hew several massive beams. Then, relying solely on brute strength, he actually managed to erect the temple’s skeletal frame.
But no matter how capable Ah Heng was, he couldn’t conjure something out of thin air. The roof of the dilapidated temple had always leaked, and when it collapsed, many tiles shattered. After rebuilding, only half the temple had tiles, while the other half had to be covered with straw instead.
Old Wen and Er Gouzi had been busy these past days crafting straw mats to shield against wind and rain. They worked swiftly; before Ah Heng even finished the framework, they’d made enough mats to wrap the entire temple in two layers.
Even so, Old Wen remained worried: “Without bricks and tiles, relying only on straw mats—even ten layers thick—would still freeze us to death in winter.”
Er Gouzi remained optimistic: “What’s there to fear? Winter hasn’t even arrived yet. Once the house is finished, we can go out and find things to keep us warm.”
Ah Heng smiled faintly and quickened his pace. His eyes held a melancholy that Er Gouzi and the others couldn’t comprehend. Old Wen probably wouldn’t live to see winter.
The newly woven straw mats were thick and sturdy. Ah Heng found wooden pegs and nailed them securely to the wooden frame. On the day the autumn rains arrived, the three beggars, nearly worn out from their labors, finally settled into the dilapidated temple.
Lying on the clean straw mats, Old Wen stretched lazily. “This has nearly worn out my old bones.” Er Gouzi lay down beside her: “Somehow the temple feels so much more spacious now.”
Indeed it did feel much more spacious. Ah Heng had thrown out all the clutter inside. Apart from the deity statue and the three beggars’ belongings, everything else in the dilapidated temple had been discarded. Ah Heng had considered moving the deity statue too, but Old Wen insisted it couldn’t be touched. Their safety, he said, was entirely thanks to the statue’s protection.
Gouzi sat up, shaking their ration sack. “Whoa, we’re out of food. Guess we’ll have to beg in town tomorrow.” Old Wen rolled over, listening to the storm outside. “Having shelter before the rain hit was a blessing.”
Ah Heng’s frame was built so sturdy, and the straw mats he and Gouzi made weren’t half-hearted either.
Old Wen turned over contentedly: “Going hungry for a few meals is nothing. Starvation is normal for us beggars. Compared to hunger, I can’t stand having nowhere to stay. Right now, I think things are just fine.”
For this aged beggar, the soul and body having nowhere to rest weighed heavier than enduring hunger.
Everyone craves a place to call home.
Surprisingly, their makeshift hut withstood the autumn rain’s baptism. Though it leaked a bit, it was far better than before. Er Gou and Old Wen lay on the straw mats as dusk fell, their stomachs beginning to sing their own tune.
Ah Heng sat by the doorway, watching the fine rain patter on the muddy path outside. A breeze carried the misty rain across his face, but he paid it no mind.
“Ah Heng, aren’t you going to shut the door and sleep?” Old Wen thought Ah Heng was an unconventional beggar, always different from the others.
“Yeah, yeah. You’ve been working the hardest these past few days. Go rest.” Gouzi moved to close the door.
But Ah Heng stood up. “I’m going out for a bit.”
“Ah Heng, you’re crazy! It’s the middle of the night and raining. Where are you going?” Old Wen struggled to sit up from the straw mat, his old bones aching from exhaustion.
“I’ll be back soon.” Ah Heng walked slowly out the door.
“Ah Heng, are you going to relieve yourself?” Gouzi called after him. Ah Heng didn’t respond. His figure gradually disappeared into the woods.
“Ah Heng’s so mysterious,” Er Gou frowned. “Feels like he’s keeping a lot from us. I thought he was just a simple beggar, but ever since he broke that apricot tree, he’s become harder to figure out.”
Old Wen sighed. “Ah Heng’s a useful man. Whatever he does, we’ll just watch. Come on, let’s sleep.”
Ah Heng trudged through the storm, his footsteps uneven as he ventured deeper into the woods. A voice within him urged: Go. Something vital awaits you there.
“Hmph—” A beast’s mournful wail echoed through the wind and rain.
A weight lifted from Ah Heng’s heart. He exhaled softly: “Found it.”
![Flying Dust [Fei Chen]](https://www.freenovels.net/wp-content/uploads/2022/03/9k.png "Flying Dust [Fei Chen]")