Chapter 93
Chapter 93
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 93
>Chapter Title: The Eighteenth of the Twelfth Lunar Month
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Chapter 93: The Eighteenth of the Twelfth Lunar Month
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> Hearing Li Huowang say this, Wu Qing, whose face was still swollen on one side, snorted coldly. He picked up his bowl and shifted his stool, turning his back to the young man emerging from the west wing.
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> “Heh, that makes me seem petty. Senior Brother Li, you must’ve spent quite a bit of silver convincing him, huh?”
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> With that, he strode straight into the main hall and grabbed a rice-yellow nest bun from the bowl, gnawing on it.
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> “Hey~! You young pup, is that how you talk?! Born to a mother but raised by none, eh?!”
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> With Li Huowang backing him, Wu Qing’s demeanor was clearly worlds apart from when he’d been tied up the night before.
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> Hearing this old coot dare slander his own mother, the rage he’d been holding back erupted in an instant. With a sharp “Clang!”, the sword that could slice through iron like mud was drawn, aimed straight at Wu Qing’s goatee. “Say that again if you’ve got the guts!!”
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> “What’re you doing! What’re you doing!” Wu Qing’s six sons and eight grandsons slammed down their bowls, rolled up their sleeves, and closed in menacingly.
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> “Fuck your ancestors, you think I’m scared?! Come on, who dares take a step forward?! I’ve got hundreds of lives on my hands! A few more won’t make a difference. Take one more step if you dare!”
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> Staring at the hostile glares surrounding him, an intense irritation bubbled up instinctively, his heart pounding faster.
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> “Put that sword away and stand outside the door!!” A sharp rebuke shattered the tense standoff.
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> Seeing Li Huowang’s stern expression, he knew his senior brother was truly angry. He shot a disdainful glare at the Wu family members around him, sheathed his sword, and headed for the door.
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> Senior Brother Li’s voice kept drifting into his ears from behind. “Old sir, youngsters are all fur and no substance—they love to brag and talk tough, but it’s all hot air. This kid hasn’t killed a soul.”
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> “Hmph, that boy’s all bark and no bite—I can see right through him. Sigh, these young pups think they’re hot stuff, but they’re just greenhorns. I’ve eaten more salt than he’s eaten rice.”
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> Hearing this, fury surged—he spun around. So what if he was young? Wasn’t fourteen man enough? The old fart was just leaning on his age.
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> But when he felt Li Huowang’s icy gaze land on him, his heart skipped a beat, and he bolted out the door.
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> Early morning, a thin layer of white mist hung over the village path, the air crisp and fresh. He stretched his arms out straight and yawned lazily, then rolled up the patched sleeves of his robe before squatting down to watch the ants.
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> “Hey, Monk, what’re you squatting there for?”
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> He stood up, straightened his yellow monk robes, and clasped his hands politely toward the white-haired girl before him. “Amitabha, well said, well said. This poor monk is contemplating Zen.”
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> “Heh, you monk, you’re a riot—acting like a kid, calling ant-watching ‘contemplating Zen.’”
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> Watching the girl’s white lashes tremble faintly, the monk zoned out for a moment, as if struck by a memory.
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> But snapping back, he immediately bowed his head and began chanting sutras, not daring to meet the eyes of this girl who so easily shook his Buddhist heart.
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> “You go contemplate your Zen. See ya.”
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> He watched her enter the Wu family courtyard and noticed several unfamiliar faces inside. “Did Village Head Wu get some guests? How come I hadn’t heard about it these past few days?”
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> The monk stood there observing these oddly attired strangers. Suddenly, he slapped his forehead.
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> “What’s wrong with me? Why am I gossiping like those long-tongued women at the village head? Outworlders don’t cling to mundane affairs. I’ll go chant my sutras.” With a quick turn, he spun on his heel, fingering his prayer beads as he headed back to his temple.
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> As he walked, he spotted a pile of dung on the ground. Before he could get close, a kid with a bamboo basket on his back rushed over, scooped up the cow pat, and chucked it into his basket. “This is from my family’s cow! It’s mine!”
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> He panicked at once. “What do you mean your family’s cow?! Mine too! No way! That cow dung’s mine!”
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> The kid clawed at his face, sticking out his tongue. “Nyah nyah nyah~ You’re a grown old geezer robbing cow dung from a kid.”
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> His old face flushed red. He raised his cane to teach the disrespectful brat a lesson.
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> Seeing the kid flee with a grimace, he chuckled ruefully. “I’m this old and still bickering with a child.”
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> Leaning on his cane, he ambled back to the little courtyard he’d lived in his whole life. He eased into the rocking chair and sat quietly, watching the leaves fall from the tree in the yard, reminiscing about his ordinary life.
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> Just then, a teasing voice from his old neighbor drifted in from the gate. “Hey, old bones~ You’re eighty-four this year. As the saying goes, seventy-three, eighty-four, the King of Hell won’t take you yourself. When’re you gonna go? Hahaha~”
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> “Hey!! That old bastard, always cursing me. Watch me curse back.”
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> As he started to rise from the rocker, a sudden sensation hit him—his time had come. He’d heard elders say there were omens before death, and sure enough, there were.
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> Everything around him seemed to shrink, as if he were rising. His body felt light and floaty, so comfortable. “So... this is what dying feels like?”
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> But in the next instant, his surroundings warped violently, his own wrinkled face twisting just as fast.
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> Sometimes a teen of fifteen or sixteen, sometimes a monk with ritual scars on his scalp, even straining to become an old woman.
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> After shifting rapidly a few times, his face finally settled back into that of a youth.
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> Staring at the familiar yet alien white walls before him, he froze. Three ultimate questions exploded in his mind.
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> “Who am I? Where am I? What am I supposed to do?”
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> Just then, two people in patient garb passed by the window nearby, chatting as they walked.
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> “I’m not like you lot—I’ve got neurosis, not psychosis. Neurosis is just pathology in the central or peripheral nerves. It’s psychosis that drags neurosis through the mud! See, guys like Little Li? That’s real psychosis—babbling nonsense and self-harming all day.”
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> “Shut it already. The kid’s pitiful enough, so young and stuck with such a nasty illness.”
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> “You think Li Huowang’s gonna jump up and cuss me out? Heh, if he did, I’d take it gladly over this.”
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> “Li Huowang?” In that moment, Li Huowang remembered everything. After swiftly reviewing recent events in his mind, he understood it all.
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> The confusion on Li Huowang’s face swiftly turned to savagery as he roared.
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> “I’m no monk, no old geezer! I’m Li Huowang! The Eighteenth of the Twelfth Lunar Month stole my name!!”
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> (End of chapter)