Chapter 35
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The autumn night wind swept across the mountain slopes, the distant mountains only had eerie outlines against the horizon. In the dim forest, the soft rustling of fallen leaves echoed as they stirred.
A small mound rapidly moved beneath a thick layer of fallen leaves, racing forward. Behind, the sound of galloping hooves approached swiftly, the rider leaping between two trees, soaring through the air. Mid-flight, the rider drew his blade, his feet pressing down with such force that a nearby large tree trembled.
“Demonic Daoist, let’s see where will you run now!”
The shout resounded through the forest as the figure landed ahead. With a sharp clang, the thin blade plunged into the ground. Zuo Zhengyang twisted his wrist, redirecting the blade upwards, slicing through the mound in the ground, sending dirt and pebbles flying in all directions.
The ground split open, cracks spreading quickly.
Boom!
Ahead, the earth exploded as a figure shot out of the ground, leaping up to the branches above. Sun Yingxian, covered in dirt, dangled from the branch, looking down at the head constable.
“You really won’t give up, huh… I swear, I didn’t kill anyone.”
Zuo Zhengyang lowered his thin saber slightly, his voice cold and sharp. “If you didn’t kill anyone, then come down, surrender yourself, and follow me back to the yamen.”
“I curse you… Bah!” Sun Yingxian spat, still hanging from the branch, which swayed as he shook himself. “I didn’t kill anyone, so why should I go to the yamen? If I do, won’t that make me the real murderer?!”
As the branch swayed, a yellowed leaf drifted down and touched the ground. In that instant, Zuo Zhengyang’s voice rang out again.
“Whether you killed someone or not, the county magistrate will decide!”
In the blink of an eye, Zuo Zhengyang moved, his figure becoming a blur. In just a few steps, he closed the distance, his feet barely touching the ground as he charged toward the Daoist hanging from the branch. Sun Yingxian let go, falling downward as his body twisted mid-air, and with a sudden motion, he thrust his palm forward.
The blade sliced through the branch with a cold gleam, tearing the air and causing countless leaves to flutter like butterflies. But then, the Daoist’s palm struck out with a thunderous boom.
An intangible energy in the air pushed back, creating ripples in Zuo Zhengyang’s robes.
Yet, the Daoist’s palm force hit the tree trunk, rebounding and making him dodge the descending blade. He spun twice in mid-air before landing and turned around, raising his chin in a rather smug manner.
“If I were the killer, you would be dead by now.”
As Zuo Zhengyang’s feet touched the ground, the slender blade sliced through the air, emitting a faint hum. “You’re probably not much better off.”
A tearing sound came from the air, the sound of fabric ripping.
Sun Yingxian glanced down at his chest, his eyelids twitching. There was a half-foot-long cut on his chest. If his opponent had used full force, he might be dead by now.
He quickly raised his hand and waved: “Let’s call it a draw then!”
Then he cupped his hands: “Farewell!”
He used his escape technique to burrow underground, quickly vanishing among the dirt and fallen leaves, heading into the distance.
Watching the other leave, Zuo Zhengyang did not pursue further. He turned to look at the tree whose top was chopped off. The palm mark from the Daoist was clearly imprinted on it.
“Seems like this person isn’t the one…” He frowned slightly, sheathed his saber, and mounted his horse, observing the group of constables under his commander that were catching up.
“Let’s head back to the bandit’s den.”
With that, he led his men back the way they came. By now, the eastern sky was beginning to brighten, with the first light of deep autumn casting through the clouds. The distant villages were waking up with roosters crowing and the noisy bustle of people.
The golden morning light shone on his eyelids, as a reddish hue. Slowly waking from his sleep, Lu Liangsheng smelled a medicinal aroma.
The tearing pain in his body made it difficult for him to get up. Opening his eyes, he saw his mother sitting outside under the eaves, tending to the stove. Lu Xiaoxian was beside her, gently fanning the flames. The sound of boiling medicine came from a small pot as she lifted the lid. Noticing her elder brother, who was also turning his head to look at her from the bed, she excitedly called out: “Mom, Brother is awake!”
The woman quickly stood up and walked into the room.
Lu Liangsheng struggled a bit to sit up and was supported by his mother to lean against the head of the bed. The scholar’s robe on his body had already been changed.
“Don’t move.”
Li Jinhua warned, then turned to the little girl at the door and called: “Xiaoxian, quickly bring me a bowl of warm water.”
The little girl nodded and ran swiftly to the kitchen. When she returned with the warm water, the woman also poured the medicine into the bowl, holding it and gently shaking it to cool it down faster.
They sat silently by the bed, not speaking.
Lu Liangsheng looked at his mother, hesitated for a moment, and finally spoke: “Mom, actually, I…”
“Mother knows,” Li Jinhua said, blowing on the steam rising from the medicine soup. “I gave birth to you. How could I not know? I’ve never seen you learn to read or write, so how did you suddenly know it? And that Lu Erlai, stealing our chickens during the day and then growing feathers the next day? If the gods were that effective, no one would suffer in this world.”
Lu Liangsheng smiled somewhat sheepishly: “It turns out mother knew about long ago… I thought I was hiding it well.”
“Hide my foot.”
Li Jinhua poked her son’s head with her finger, smiling: “Only your naive father would believe such things.”
“Hehe.”
“You’re still laughing. With your condition, how can you laugh? I heard from your Uncle Pan and the others that the mountain bandits are all dead. Did you kill them, or…”
The woman’s gaze shifted to the painting on the wall. Lu Liangsheng followed her gaze, the beautiful woman in the painting seemed to blink and smile at them.
No matter how fierce and intelligent Li Jinhua was, she still had her reservations about such matters.
“Mother has placed the medicine here for you.”
With that, she quickly got up and left the room. However, shortly after, she returned suddenly, carrying a worn incense burner. She inserted three sticks of incense and placed it in front of the scroll.
Seeing Lu Liangsheng’s puzzled look from the bed, Li Jinhua continued to walk out while saying: “Even if it’s a ghost, it still needs to eat.”
Though Lu Xiaoxian was a bit timid at the door, she still came in and bowed toward Nie Honglian in the painting.
Then she looked at Lu Liangsheng, snorted, and walked out, mimicking her mother’s tone: “Sister Ghost saved me, so a bow won’t hurt.”
Lu Liangsheng watched his mother and sister leave, smiled, and picked up a book on the bedside. Since he couldn’t get up, he figured flipping through it would help pass the time.
Just as he turned a page, the door creaked shut by itself.
When he put the book down, Nie Honglian sat beside him with the bowl of medicine, with a smile on her face. It seemed that the actions of the mother and daughter had made her very happy.
“Actually, staying around is also because of your mother and sister. Seeing them makes me feel like I’m still alive.”
“You’re still alive, otherwise, who would I be talking to?”
Lu Liangsheng took the bowl of medicine, took a sip, and frowned at the bitterness. “Who prescribed this medicine? I don’t seem to be injured… Just overused my spiritual energy.”
Seeing the young man’s pained expression, Nie Honglian’s smile grew brighter. At sixteen, she still had the nature of a young girl and blew on the bowl to cool it down.
“It’s cold, drink it in one gulp.”
“I’m not that foolish.”
Lu Liangsheng set the bowl aside and glanced around the room, not seeing the familiar figure.
“Honglian, have you seen the toad who usually stays in the room?”
“You’re calling your own master a toad?” Nie Honglian covered her mouth and laughed softly. “I already knew. When you and your father returned that night, I saw your master.”
At this point, Nie Honglian lifted her face, her slender fingers tapping her chin as she mused: “When your father carried you back, your master quietly checked your injuries and then left with a gourd, without making a sound.”
“He left?”
Lu Liangsheng, somewhat skeptical, furrowed his brow and looked out the window. The sounds of people bustling outside continued, and golden morning light streamed through the window bars.
Far away, on the Qixia Mountain to the west, the mentioned Toad Daoist was carrying a gourd and a specially made small pouch on his waist. He was searching inch by inch along the foot of the mountain, mumbling quietly to himself.
“How did I end up like that foolish disciple… becoming a soft-hearted fool?”
The toad’s webbed feet pushed aside weeds taller than himself. In a crevice between rocks, he found a plant with small red fruits. He uprooted it and sat on a rock, turning the gourd around to the front, ready to stuff the unknown plant into the gourd.
Suddenly, a dirt mound, as if a gopher was digging, rushed towards him and collided with the rock he was sitting on with a thud. “Ouch,” came a muffled voice from under the dirt, and the next moment, a mud-covered head emerged.
On the rock, the Toad Daoist was startled by the sudden appearance of the head and reflexively jumped up.
“Hiss… that hurts.”
Sun Yingxian covered his head, wiped the mud from his face, and saw a toad standing on one foot, holding the gourd with one hand and raising the other in a gesture, standing on the rock.
The two—one person and one toad—shared a strange and bewildered stare.