Chapter 95

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

Traveling all the way northwest, the leisurely mood of sightseeing gradually grew heavy.

The biting winter wind swept up the dust on the ground. In the vision of Lu Liangsheng and the Daoist, a dense crowd of people pressed forward, their faces sallow and their clothes in tatters. One after another, they staggered past them.

“…When I left, there weren’t this many people pouring in.”

Sun Yingxian, always grinning and carefree, now wore a grave expression. Wherever his gaze landed, all he saw were refugees fleeing from the northwest.

After squeezing through several zhang, Lu Liangsheng pulled his old donkey to a stop. In his view, an emaciated old man collapsed, ignored by all. A woman carrying a child sobbed as she followed behind her husband. The infant in her arms wailed uncontrollably. A starving man, his hunger unbearable, spotted a wild plant on the ground and lunged at it, digging frantically with his hands. He stuffed the dirt-covered stalk into his mouth, chewing as he wept.

Such a scene was something the scholar had never experienced before.

“What is the government even doing…”

Lu Liangsheng had read books on governance. With no rain throughout spring, summer, and autumn, nearly all the food in Heliang Prefecture had been consumed. Now, with winter’s arrival and the northwest gripped by the cold, even if some wealthy households benevolently distributed porridge, it was like a cup of water against a raging fire. Many would still freeze and starve to death… That was why so many were on the road, seeking refuge.

The endless tide of people surged forward, some crashing into Lu Liangsheng. Countless hands reached for any pockets he might have, only to be repelled by an invisible force. Yet still, they came.

Some even set their sights on the old donkey. A group approached, intending to seize it, but Sun Yingxian sent a kick that shattered a man’s knee, leaving him howling on the ground. Before long, his companions dragged him away.

“Old Lu, now isn’t the time for lofty ideals. They’ve already gone mad from hunger.”

The Daoist knew his strike had been ruthless, but if he hadn’t done it, more would have swarmed them. Their clothes might even have been stripped away.

How could Lu Liangsheng not understand Sun Yingxian’s words? That was why, from the start, he had hesitated to take out the few flatbreads he had on him. If he did, even more hands would reach out. And then what?

“Let’s go. Let’s see what’s ahead. Didn’t you say there are other cultivators here? Let’s go and lend a hand—do something.”

Guiding the old donkey through the crowd, Lu Liangsheng, clad in his scholar’s robe, was like a lone leaf drifting upstream in a vast, surging tide of people. Everywhere he looked, he saw only hunger, fear, and death. An old woman, walking along, suddenly stopped breathing and collapsed onto the ground—no one paid her any heed. A child, orphaned and alone, stood still, watching as the numb masses moved past him. His eyes were filled with despair. Moments later, someone picked him up and carried him away.

Lu Liangsheng buried the old woman’s corpse by the roadside. He searched for that child in the throng of people but found him lying on a large rock, missing a leg, barely clinging to life. The excessive blood loss had sealed his fate—there was no saving him.

For days, he busied himself burying the dead, or rescuing a few children and returning them to their parents.

Even with Daoist arts, in the face of such calamity, a single person’s strength was ultimately limited. Even the Daoist, who had initially stood by with folded arms, could not help but lend a hand upon seeing Lu Liangsheng’s actions.

“What is the government even doing…”

As they neared the first city of Heliang Prefecture, Lu Liangsheng repeated the very words he had uttered when they first reached the border.

The temperature plummeted, and the cold grew even harsher.

One night, Lu Liangsheng executed the Wall-Passing Technique. Like a ghostly wraith, he slipped through the city walls, past house after house, and went straight into the rear courtyard of the Zhangtai County Yamen.

The county magistrate, asleep in bed with his wife, heard footsteps and opened his eyes. Just as he was about to sit up, a shadow burst through the wall where calligraphy and paintings hung.

“Who goes there?!”

The words barely left his mouth when the bed curtains billowed, and he was sent flying forward with a thunderous crash, slamming into the large round table. The exquisitely crafted teaware shattered on the ground with a sharp clatter. The woman on the bed clutched the blanket and shrieked.

A moment later, a wide sleeve swept past, and she slumped unconscious. Lu Liangsheng turned his gaze to the magistrate, now pinned against the table, his voice like a blade scraping from the depths of his throat.

“Why haven’t you opened the granaries to distribute food?!”

“This… this esteemed master…”

The county magistrate’s limbs turned ice-cold. As he stared at the haggard face before him, eyes bloodshot with exhaustion, a shiver crawled up his spine.

This man had stepped out from within the walls—how could he be an ordinary person?

“…This humble official is powerless. The government granaries have already distributed rations, but there hasn’t been a drop of rain this entire year. The grain we collected was already scarce, yet we still had to pay tribute to the capital… Right now, even the rats won’t come near the granary…Sir, if you don’t believe me, allow me to take you to see for yourself.”

Lu Liangsheng nodded and cast a spell, taking the magistrate with him as they visited several granaries. Inside, they found nothing but a few rotting remnants of old grain.

“The northwest has always been barren, and food has never been sufficient… Now, with this once-in-a-century drought, there is truly nothing we can do.”

“What about the imperial court? Have they not sent disaster relief rations?”

“They sent a single batch, but how much was left after being divided among the counties? From spring to winter, hundreds of thousands of mouths to feed—it’s like trying to fill a bottomless pit. How could it ever be enough…?”

Returning outside the city, the magistrate’s words still echoed in Lu Liangsheng’s mind. As he sat down, the Daoist handed him a waterskin and took a seat beside him.

“How did it go?”

Nearby, the Toad Daoist lay on a rock, basking in the moonlight. Without even looking up, he snorted. “Do you even need to ask? It’s obvious.”

“Master… I don’t understand.”

Lu Liangsheng clutched the waterskin and gazed down at the countless refugees gathered in the valley below. On the distant city walls, soldiers patrolled back and forth, torches in hand, ensuring that no disaster victims entered the city.

“…I don’t understand. Why did the imperial court send only a single shipment of grain? Is it because the northwest is barren? Does that make its people worthless… Are they meant to starve to death?”

His lips tightened. Suddenly, he stood up, strode over to a bookshelf, and retrieved a blank scroll before heading down the mountain. Behind him, Sun Yingxian called out: “Old Lu, what are you up to now?!”

The scholar did not respond. He moved swiftly toward the gruel station. There were no pots, no bowls—only a long, empty wooden table standing there.

The torchlight from the city wall illuminated the masses outside—refugees huddling together for warmth, stretching into the boundless darkness.

A young girl, nestled in her mother’s arms, blinked her wide, hunger-weary eyes and curiously watched the lone figure standing in the gruel station.

Unable to hold back, she tugged at her mother’s sleeve and whispered: “Mother, there’s someone there…”

At the other end of her gaze, Lu Liangsheng slowly closed his eyes. His fingers relaxed, and with a flick of his sleeve, the blank scroll unfurled with a crisp whoosh, spreading flat across the long table.

From the depths of the night, Nie Honglian drifted forward. As if she understood what the scholar intended, she set an inkstone beside him.

“Honglian will grind the ink for you, young master.”

Her delicate jade fingers gently pressed the ink stick, swirling it against the stone until the ink pooled into a dark, glossy puddle. Lu Liangsheng dipped his brush into the ink and, with a few fluid strokes upon the pristine paper, he painted a large, round shape. Stroke by stroke, a plate gradually emerged beneath Honglian’s watchful eyes.

The deep green ink flowed from the brush’s tip onto the scroll, forming one steamed bun after another, stacking up like a small mountain.

Sweat trickled down Lu Liangsheng’s forehead and cheeks. He had poured all his spiritual power into this piece. As he finally set down his brush, he unscrewed the waterskin, took a sip, then sprayed a fine mist over the painting.

“As long as my cultivation remains intact, my spiritual power will recover in a few days. Right now, using it where it matters might save some lives…”

His voice lingered in the air as the mist gently descended onto the scroll. The steamed bun outlined in ink began to emit a rich, fragrant aroma. In the next moment, a towering plate of steaming hot mantou rose from the painting onto the table, their warmth drifting outward into the night.

The little girl huddled in her mother’s embrace widened her eyes at the sight before her. Slowly, she freed herself from her mother’s arms, her frail body swaying as she took shaky steps toward the table.

Lu Liangsheng wiped the sweat from his face and smiled. A small, barefooted figure with unkempt hair cautiously approached.

The little girl, barely taller than the table, lifted her dirty little face and hesitated. Staring at the steamed buns, she nervously parted her lips.

“…Big brother… my mother is sick… Can I have one?”

Perhaps fearing she was asking for too much, she quickly corrected herself.

“…Half… half of one is fine too…”

Lu Liangsheng took two steamed buns and placed them into her hands, gently patting her head. “Take them to your mother. If it’s not enough, come back for more.”

“Mm… Thank you, big brother.”

The little girl’s dirt-streaked face lit up with a smile. Clutching the steamed buns tightly, she ran back to her mother, pressing one to the woman’s lips. The sickly woman, her face pale with hunger, caught the scent of the food. Her eyes fluttered open, and without hesitation, she took a bite, chewing quickly before swallowing.

Around them, others who had caught the enticing aroma of steamed buns stirred from their exhaustion. Though no one rushed forward immediately, they all stared at the remaining steamed bun in the girl’s hands, swallowing their hunger.

“Xiao Chai, where did you get that mantou?”

“Over there! A kind big brother gave it to me. There are lots more!”

Following the little girl’s outstretched finger, everyone turned to look. The long wooden table at the gruel station was now piled high with steaming white mantou. The scholar stood beside it, watching them with a gentle smile before turning to walk back up the mountain.

The crowd surged forward. The little girl, swept along in the wave of people, reached the table as others grabbed mantou, some shoving extra into their mouths while clutching four or five more in their hands. Voices rang out—”If you already got one, step aside! Let those who haven’t eaten get a share.”

Yet among the desperate, some hoarded what they could. In no time, the large plate was empty. The little girl, who had been pushed to the front, arrived only to find nothing left. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she clung to the edge of the table, crying.

“What happened?” “They’re all gone… Damn it, couldn’t you all take a little less?” “My family is starving! Someone, please share just one with me!!”

Suddenly, a startled shout came from the edge of the long table.

“Hey, hey, look! There are more mantou!”

The once-empty plate was now miraculously stacked with dozens of steaming mantou.

“This… this is immortals’ magic…”  “I saw it! That scholar just now!” “I saw him too—it was a scholar!”

Some, still chewing on mantou, fell to their knees, sobbing. Word of the miracle spread like wildfire, and in an instant, the sea of starving people all turned toward the mountain where Lu Liangsheng had gone—then, as one, they knelt.

“The immortal has revealed himself…” “Everyone, don’t grab too much, or we might anger the immortal elder!”

“That’s right! There’s enough for everyone—one at a time!”

The chaos gradually subsided. People began lining up in orderly rows, each waiting their turn to take a mantou from the long table.

Up in the mountains, the wind howled softly.

The Daoist and the Toad Daoist exchanged puzzled glances at the exhausted scholar. The mountain breeze rustled his hair as Lu Liangsheng sat on a rock, feeling the gratitude rising from below. Weary but smiling, he spoke, his voice faint.

“They may not be real, but they’re still better than eating dirt. At the very least, this will help them last a little longer.”