Third year of Puqing, beginning of autumn.
Shi Wuduan, who’d been missing for over a month finally returned to Huaizhou. Overjoyed, Gu Huaiyang welcomed him personally.
Meng Zhongyong was even more exaggerated. He hauled Shi Wuduan up in a bear hug, and pounded his back like an anvil, nearly cracking his shoulder, and yelled, “Let’s have a feast! A feast! Eldest brother, little six is back! We’ve gotta celebrate!”
Yet, Shi Wuduan only went through the motions of greeting them. When he smiled, he seemed distracted, as if his heart wasn’t in it. He passed it off as being tired and told everyone to go back to what they were doing. After everything settled, he went alone to the relay station where refugees were being sheltered, rolled up his sleeves, made a bowl of thin porridge, then sat down and slowly sipped it.
Wearing old and ragged clothes, his lips dry and cracked, with a pale and haggard complexion, he seemed like a weary traveler who’d come from afar.
At first glance, he seemed no different than those lost souls fleeing from the wreckage of their homes. Yet the beauty of his face, despite its lack of emotion, still shone through as he sat there silently, staring into the sky. Calm as if he knew where he came from and knew where he was going.
Every person who passed him by couldn’t help but take a glance at him. But for some reason, none of them ever looked at him twice.
Before mid-autumn, large quantities of grain suddenly left the northwestern region, as if an invisible hand had swiftly snatched all the grain off the market. The price of rice soared, the court was, as ever, unable to spare any silver. Yan Zhen knew that this was revenge for the time he’d used the Merchant Association’s movements to lay a trap for Gu Huaiyang.
It was simply the confluence of opportunity, luck, and fate. Though he was little over forty, Yan Zhen’s hair was already streaked with grey. During the day, he plotted and planned with inhuman confidence. At night, he always wondered if he’d made the right move.
Unwittingly, when he recalled the sky platform atop Jiulu Mountain and the stick that’d been hurled by the wind, the weariness in his heart increased tenfold.
With the Demon Lord’s whereabouts unclear, the shadow demons ran rampant. No one was able to bring them to heel. The treaty of the great sects was broken, the Xuan Sect had taken a devastating blow, and the Dacheng Sect’s attitude was unclear. In the court, Zou Yanlai was watching him, Zhang Zhixian was watching him, all of the civil and military officials were watching him, the emperor was watching him, and the citizens of Puqing were watching him.
At the moment, the court appeared to have the upper hand, but Yan Zhen knew that in reality, he’d already lost by a single move. The court had been building its armies for a thousand days, yet they were near evenly matched by the Redscarf Army’s “lowly rabble.” It was nothing to be proud of; that was number one.
Number two, though he’d known of Shi Wuduan’s activities in Haining and known that his reach was long, he couldn’t have imagined that it extended so far that he was able to influence the northwest’s grain market.
Shi Wuduan seemed to have an astonishing sixth sense when it came to money, making calculations so fine that they accounted for every tael of silver, knowing how to acquire money, how to spend money, and how to obtain what he wanted without wasting a single coin.
At first, Yan Zhen thought that Shi Wuduan had only pulled a few merchant caravans to his side, not that he’d cast a meticulous spider web spanning the entire continent. It was hidden, tangled, complicated, and intertwined; tugging a single thread could affect the whole thing. Now that Yan Zhen had started investigating the markets, he was slowly catching sight of it.
Even if Shi Wuduan himself died one day, it would continue operating as usual. Yan Zhen had no choice but to be impressed that there existed a second person so thorough and meticulous. If he had Shi Wuduan, if the court had Shi Wuduan —
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
Snfgs alwf tf atbeuta bo la, Tjc Itfc mbeivc’a gfrlra rlutlcu ja ktja j qlas la kjr.
Qtfc la gjlcfv, la qbegfv. Aera jr atf rfaaifwfcar ys atf Zlc Elnfg tjv yffc rkfqa jkjs ys oibbv, mgfjalcu atberjcvr bo gfoeuffr, j gfyfi ifjvfg, Ol Eertejcu, tjv erfv atf mtjcmf ab ijecmt j regqglrf jaajmx bc atf mbecags’r glmf yjrlc bo Lehtbe. Tjc Itfc tjv cb kjs ab vfji klat la yea ab bgvfg atf jgws ab lcafgmfqa atflg agjcrqbgar jcv “ybggbk glmf” ogbw jii atf wfgmtjcar atja kfgf rabmxqlilcu ugjlcr. “Dbggbklcu,” atfs mjiifv la, yea la kjr jmaejiis “rafjilcu.” Ktfs vlvc’a qijc bc yflcu gfjrbcjyif jcswbgf.
Perhaps every shameless bastard cried in private a faceful of sour “I had no choice” tears.
Still, Yan Zhen was unable to escape the punishment of the Puqing Emperor, who’d seen him as a thorn in his eye for some time already. The emperor issued a very long, very weepy self-recrimination edict like he was wailing an eulogy for the former emperor, went to self-reflect for a while, then decisively fired Yan Zhen for the second time — he rewarded and punished so very fairly.
This time, Zhang Zhixian of the Xuan Sect got unlucky as well. The general really was innocent, and the guilty verdict slapped on his head really was inexplicable. Having become the emperor’s scapegoat, he was demoted three ranks in a day and sent to the northwest city of Beiping as an inspector — to put it in colloquial terms, he was sent there to commit daylight robbery.
The Puqing Emperor, well-read in his country’s history, knew that in the court, the emperor was as good as a puppet. The ones who held the true power would always be those sect leaders. In order to not let anyone take advantage of the power vacuum, the emperor suppressed not just the Mi Sect, but the Xuan Sect as well. Thus he played his balancing game, letting the two of them enjoy the autumn view together.
Apparently, he knew quite well how to be an emperor… he understood that in order to face external threats, internal discord had to be pacified first. No matter whose armies were at his gates, he had to recentralize imperial power. At least he lived up to the previous emperor’s hopes.
As to whether that old emperor, so brilliant and majestic that he laughed himself to death, would approve, well, no one knew.
But the war waited for no one.
Yan Zhen was released into the wilderness, Zhang Zhixian was demoted to the countryside, but Zou Yanlai was still fighting at the Min River.
To prevent a manpower shortage at this sensitive time, the emperor personally issued missives to the three great sects, imploring them to send fresh blood to the court — the Puqing Emperor thought his actions were very reasonable. After all, the sects were his subjects, it was their duty to strive for the prosperity of the country. If one batch died or stopped working, he’d just switch them out. He should be the one in control, rather than those treacherous sect leaders.
The fighting lasted from the start of autumn into the late winter. Even on the night of the new year, Zou Yanlai and Gu Huaiyang, thinking alike, planned to attack the other during the midst of their celebrations, when their guard was lowest. But who knew that one ambush would bump into another, resulting in a messy, chaotic night battle.
A few lonely firecrackers popped lifelessly within nearly empty ruins, hinting at the ceaseless battles that would stretch on into the new year’s spring.
Huaizhou and Dongyue had originally been fertile, prosperous places. But after they’d suffered flood and war, they’d become nearly barren.
Shi Wuduan, however, was elsewhere. He’d covertly brought a band of people with him to Huzhou, intending to pass through it straight to the northwest and have a little get-together with General Zhang, who was also from the Xuan Sect. What was lost couldn’t be lost for nothing after all.
Yet there was still no sign of Bai Li, who he’d trapped within the Inferno Realm, and who should’ve returned within eighteen days.
For some reason, Bai Li was always on his mind. The thirty-six days they’d spent together in that wretched place felt almost longer and more vivid than a lifetime.
He suddenly realized that there were some people who should never meet.
For example, a wanderer who’d left home, no matter how many life-and-death struggles he went through, no matter how cruel or ruthless he was, the moment he returned home, where he had parents to look after and a wife and children to treasure, he’d become unspeakably weary. All his previous ambitions and aspirations, his lofty resolutions and bold declarations, would turn to nothing. He’d forget his own viciousness, remember only that the outside world was vicious, and hide inside his home, never to emerge again.
For example, there was a line in a play that went: “may I spend all my days in your affection, never envying the white clouds of heaven.”
Sometimes Shi Wuduan would think, maybe he really had wronged Bai Li.
After all these years, a messy heap of rotten debt had piled up between them; it was hard to say who was at fault. All in all, they simply had different viewpoints, and neither of them was willing to back down, and yet because Bai Li… had forgiven him, in a nearly mad, almost meek way, things were once again unbalanced.
The array he’d placed was just a slapdash scattering of pebbles. It was merely an imitation of the real thing at most, trapping Bai Li for four hours would be pushing it already. No matter what, he should’ve exited eighteen days later. Yet now, an entire season had passed already, so where had he gone?
Shi Wuduan sat in the carriage, gazing out at the scenery through a gap in the curtains. He suddenly thought, there’s no way something could’ve gone wrong, right? He’s gone to that damn place many times before without any issue, it can’t be that just because he left, he…..
He pondered fruitlessly on the matter for the entire trip. It wasn’t until Lanre had called him a few times before he came out of his daze.
Lanre was holding a bowl of some kind of herbal medicine in her hands. It looked unbelievably disgusting and smelled unimaginably foul. She urged softly, “Lord Sixth, the medicine’s ready.”
Shi Wuduan made a sound of acknowledgment, unconsciously avoiding Lanre’s too-familiar eyes as he received the bowl — obviously it wasn’t meant for human consumption, it was for the rabbit.
Ever since Shi Wuduan had left, it’d refused to eat, just like a zen monk who’d seen through the vanity of worldly affairs going on fast. It wouldn’t eat, no matter what. Even the rabbit’s previously hale and hearty physique couldn’t withstand the strain for very long. In truth, it was already a right miracle that it hadn’t already gone to see its ancestors by the time that Shi Wuduan had returned.
Still, the rabbit’s snow-white fur was heavily matted. It fell in clumps at the slightest touch. Panicked and flustered, Shi Wuduan was willing to try anything to cure it. On the road, he’d gathered as many animal doctors as he could find, but farmers were more familiar with livestock such as cattle, chicken, and sheep. None of them had had experience trying to work with rabbits, they could only try their best.
A three-man medical board composed of a horse doctor, a goat doctor, and a duck doctor, as if having greater quantity would solve the problem, somehow managed to scrabble together a medicine formula.
To tell the truth, Lanre really wanted to say to Lord Sixth, this rabbit’s been alive more than a decade already, it should’ve passed away years ago, but when she saw how he cared more for the rabbit than he did for himself, she lost the nerve.
Just then, Xia Duanfang entered, glanced at the sickly rabbit in Shi Wuduan’s arms, then reached out and gave the Cuibing bird, who was standing on a beam near the door, a few scratches on the neck. He cleared his throat, “Lord Sixth, we got the job done. The news has already been spread.”
“Mm, many thanks,” Shi Wuduan replied, seemingly disinterestedly. Then, before Xia Duanfang and Lanre’s disbelieving eyes, he very casually dipped his finger in the medicine and put it in his mouth.
Lanre said, “Lord Sixth, that’s….”
Xia Duanfang grimaced like he had a toothache, disgusted as if he’d tasted it himself.
Shi Wuduan chewed the “those who see it despair, those who taste it weep” medicine a few times. Who knew what he tasted and what kind of conclusion he came to before he cautiously fed it to the rabbit. At first, the rabbit wasn’t having it — probably because the medicine was simply too foul. Shi Wuduan slowly, gently, patiently, stroked the rabbit’s half-bald backside, and soothed it like it was a child.
Xia Duanfang looked at Lanre, “You should go now, missy. I’ve got to have a few words with Lord Sixth.”
Immediately, Lanre compliantly left.
Sect Leader Xia got himself a chair and plopped down casually, observed the rabbit’s sickly complexion, and said, “This is no ordinary rabbit.”
A moment of silence later, Shi Wuduan sluggishly, lazily, replied, “I know.”
Thus, Xia Duanfang went and mentioned the elephant in the room, “Since it’s not an ordinary rabbit, you can’t use ordinary methods to treat it. I don’t know what’s wrong with it exactly, but the way I see it, the light in its eyes has already gone out; it’s just humoring you. I think it knows its end is near already.”
Shi Wuduan silently raised his head and looked at him. There wasn’t much expression on his face, but his gaze was heavy with a faint hint of stormy anger. Xia Duanfang wasn’t afraid of him, “I’m being honest with you, I say empty nothings.”
Shi Wuduan stared at him for a while, then looked back down and continued petting the rabbit’s head.
Xia Duanfang sighed and couldn’t help saying, “You’re closer to these animals than you are to people.”
Without even looking up, Shi Wuduan replied, “Aren’t you closer to money than to people?”
“That’s not the same,” Xia Duanfang chuckled. Other people hung embroidered pouches or jade ornaments on their clothes, but Sect Leader Xia had a custom-made, scaled-up bronze coin hanging off his belt, rubbing the fact that he was a money-grubber in everyone’s face. A moment later, he continued, “That’s not the same, how could it be the same? Gold and silver are dead things, when they’re in your hands, they’re yours, not like living things.”
“In times of chaos, people are hardly more than scraps of driftwood. If you’re too attached to people, aren’t you doomed to live each day in fear and worry?” Xia Duanfang said softly. Then he glanced at Shi Wuduan, then said faux-unintentionally, “Oh right, I heard some news from the Daoists by the general’s side, it seems that those demon creatures causing trouble around the Min River have all started moving east.”
At the moment, the court appeared to have the upper hand, but Yan Zhen knew that in reality, he’d already .
?????This sentence confused me..🤧🤧🤧.. is it incomplete or …???
whoops, it was a typo in the translator’s note that made the thing disappear. fixed nowthanks for pointing it out
who was standing on a beam near the door, a few (scritches) on the neck. …
Typo…
huh I guess the word scritches is only a kind of slang? fixed now, thanks for pointing it out
It’s a slang??👀. I didn’t know. But when i read the word, i had to double check the dictionary if it exists and i just didn’t know.😂😂
Thank you for this chapter!😘😘
Thank you so much 👏❤️💐🙏
💙💙💙
THANK U SO MUCH HALFDEADHULIJING
By this point, I’M SERIOUSLY BETTING THAT THE RABBIT IS THE MISSING SOUL PIECE OF THE ML (only sick when ml is not there. And his fluctuating soul look during the mountain escape of the mc yrs ago and others). Also, when it returns to the main soul, ml will discover all of what the mc has been through and his thoughts about the ml fufufu ( ≧艸≦)
Why are there keyboard smashes in the chapters? Is it supposed to be a paragraph that’s been WRONGLY translated or is it just a keyboard smash.. or is it just my phone that’s the problem I don’t understand…