Chapter 00158: Heavenly Sweet Rain
# Heavenly Sweet Rain
Chapter 158
Novel: After the Immortals Disappeared
Chapter 158: Heavenly Sweet Rain
As long as the war ceases, the grass and trees will reclaim this place, and given time, it will be as if nothing ever happened.
In the auxiliary city, street battles had taken place, leaving the buildings riddled with holes, entire blocks reduced to ashes.
As they walked through, the supporting army remained silent, and He Yue felt a heaviness in his heart.
He had never been to Panlong Ancient City; this was his first true encounter with the brutality of war and the cheapness of human life.
Upon exiting the auxiliary city, a newly carved stone tablet stood in the valley behind.
The soldiers who sacrificed their lives in the Battle of Woling Pass were buried here.
He Chunhua ordered offerings to be presented and personally lit a stick of incense.
The atmosphere was solemn.
He Lingchuan looked around and noticed that everyone was present except for one person, stirring a feeling in his heart.
He quietly walked out, covering over two hundred zhang, and after several directions, he found Wu Shaoyi beneath another large tree.
He sat cross-legged on the ground, hands forming a seal, eyes closed and unmoving.
Above him, the canopy of the sycamore tree swayed, golden leaves falling like rain whenever the wind blew, rustling softly.
He Lingchuan examined the ground in front of him; a large area was covered with fresh soil, its color different from the surroundings, clearly turned not long ago, yet grass had already begun to grow.
Even the grass here was thriving more than elsewhere, rarely turning yellow even in late autumn.
Why had Wu Shaoyi slipped away to this place? Could it be...?
He Lingchuan sat down beside him, glancing at a vibrant balsam flower in front of him, and sighed, “How many people are buried here?”
“At least over twenty thousand,” Wu Shaoyi slowly opened his eyes. “After they died, not even a tombstone remained.”
The officials and soldiers who died at Woling Pass at least had a monument; those buried here had nothing.
Indeed, those buried beneath were all rebels, former comrades of Wu Shaoyi.
He Lingchuan took out a wine pouch from his bosom and handed it to him, also retrieving two wine cups.
Wu Shaoyi did not refuse, filling one cup and slowly pouring it onto the ground as an offering.
In that moment, He Lingchuan saw a trace of desolation and depression in his eyes.
Those who once shared his ideals had either scattered or were buried here; he himself had been severely injured by secret techniques.
Although he could live a few more years, he had to bid farewell to the glorious days of wielding a sword on horseback.
Even Wu Shaoyi, sitting in this place of past sorrow, looked around with a blank expression, unsure of where to go from here.
He Lingchuan filled both wine cups to the brim: “Come, let us drink a cup for them.”
“‘Them’?” Wu Shaoyi was silent for a moment, then raised his cup to him, tilting his head back to drink it all.
After downing three cups, he finally exhaled a breath of hot air.
Since his injury, it was the first time he had drunk alcohol.
“The young master comes here, not afraid of being scolded by Lord He?” To accompany this former “traitor” in honoring the “rebels,” it was surprising that this young master He could do it.
“If my old man scolds me, isn’t that just a daily occurrence?” He Lingchuan laughed, “But the yin energy here is too heavy; you shouldn’t sit for long.”
The aftermath work of the Woling Pass battlefield was handled by the officials and soldiers, who naturally buried their comrades on the sunny side of the mountain while burying their opponents’ bodies on the shady side.
“I just came to see them. Today’s farewell may be the last,” Wu Shaoyi nodded. “Life is as cheap as wild grass; a few months or years later, who will remember them?”
He Lingchuan chuckled, “What you say is true; a hundred years later, no one will remember us either.”
Wu Shaoyi stood up, his face flushed and steps unsteady, and He Lingchuan reached out to support him.
Due to the secret techniques, his cultivation had been mostly wasted.
He Lingchuan understood that this might be the key reason for Wu Shaoyi’s surrender.
Otherwise, with his diminished strength, it would be difficult to command respect among the rebel army based solely on his past reputation.
Moreover, his body was far from what it used to be; if he continued to hide, he would likely collapse within two years.
Submitting to He Chunhua, though reluctant, was perhaps the best choice.
The two walked back and caught up with the main force by the river.
The river water was clear, and there was a small wooden house on the bank, with a broken net hanging in front and behind, the wooden door closed.
He Yue exclaimed, “The ground in front of the door is very clean; someone must come here often.” Otherwise, fallen leaves and weeds would dominate the scenery.
After walking a bit further, a soldier hurriedly approached He Chunhua, reporting, “In the small house by the river, there is an altar for Master Jiayuan, and offerings on the table!”
He Lingchuan and his brother exchanged glances.
The full title of Hong Xiangqian was “Master Jiayuan”!
In such a remote area, someone was actually worshipping him.
He Chunhua paused slightly, “Blood offerings, cooked food?”
“One steamed bun and three sour fruits. There are several bundles of incense burning in the stove.”
He Chunhua waved his hand, “No need to pay attention.”
If he ignored it, the supporting army naturally would not care either.
Zeng Feixiong whispered, “My lord, shouldn’t we remove that altar?”
“Look at the environment here; who would come to worship him?”
Zeng Feixiong instinctively looked around, “Country folk?”
“Just some villagers seeking a bit of solace; it’s not worth worrying about.”
Wu Shaoyi, who had been keeping his head down, looked up upon hearing this, only to find He Chunhua staring at him, causing him to be startled and lower his head again.
Lord He was considering him.
Although he had already pledged allegiance to He Chunhua, the latter did not want to make things difficult for his former lord in front of him.
Until Woling Pass disappeared from view, He Lingchuan finally let out a long breath: “The fighting here was too tragic; when the old master reclaimed Heishui City, it was nowhere near this tragic. By the way, where are we staying tonight?”
“Woling Pass has been abandoned; all traffic will stop at Shuanghe Town. The commoners have already moved there; I heard they will build a new city there.”
Shuanghe Town was east of Woling Pass, less than fifteen li away.
Fengling Ferry was conveniently located between the two places, but unfortunately, it was getting late, and the supporting army planned to rest in Shuanghe Town for the night before boarding the ship in the morning.
Shuanghe Town was originally just a small town with over four hundred people, but now it had to accommodate the population and functions of Woling Pass.
When the supporting army arrived, they found construction was booming everywhere, and the sounds of people were bustling.
Woling Pass had originally been a vital trade route; southern merchant caravans had to change ships at Fengling Ferry when they reached here.
Now that Woling Pass had been abandoned, everyone had to settle in Shuanghe Town.
The supporting army had expanded to six or seven hundred people, and there was no way they could all fit in the town, so they had to make do in the granaries and farms to the east of the town.
The He family simply decided to spend the night in the farm; the owner took two taels of silver from them and temporarily moved out, leaving behind four rooms and a threshing yard.
By now, the grain had already been stored, and the empty threshing yard became a large courtyard.
Resources were scarce in the town, and it was inconvenient to procure supplies, so the supporting army had to bring out their own rations for dinner.
However, Zeng Feixiong was craving meat and called He Lingchuan to go hunting in the mountains.
They had also encouraged He Yue to join them, but unfortunately, Madam Ying did not allow it, and He Yue could only watch as the small team of twenty or thirty people disappeared into the dense forest.
He Lingchuan had good luck; about an hour later, he hunted two roe deer and four wild rabbits, and on the way back, he encountered a large black wild boar weighing nearly four hundred jin.
They set a trap, and the wild boar, enraged by the peach tree, chased after them and fell into the trap, breaking its leg.
The rest was simple:
The supporting army had meat to eat, making it a busy night for the cooks.
Drinking was prohibited during the march, but everyone ate meat, drank soup, and played games until the moon was high in the sky before wrapping up.
He Lingchuan returned to the house, removed his outer clothing, and fell asleep immediately.
Because he had sneaked a bit of alcohol, he slept more soundly than others.
In the depths of his dreams, it felt like someone was whispering in his ear.
He Lingchuan ignored it, wanting to sleep a little longer.
Then—
He was shaken awake with great force.
The strength was so great that it felt like it would shake his head off.
“Wake up!” Someone shouted in his ear, sounding like He Yue, “... Hurry up, hurry, hurry!”
He didn’t catch a few words clearly, but He Lingchuan sensed his urgency and immediately became alert, reaching for his knife: “Are there bandits again?”
He Yue rarely lost his composure like this; he instinctively thought something serious was wrong.
“Not that!” He Yue dragged him outside, his voice trembling with excitement, “Emperor’s Liquid, heavenly Emperor’s Liquid!”
Emperor’s Liquid!
He Lingchuan was stunned upon hearing those three words, unable to believe his ears, but his body reacted faster than his mind, and he jumped out the door, leaving He Yue behind.
Though he had no skills, he remembered the knowledge about “Emperor’s Liquid” very well, so much so that as soon as He Lingchuan heard it, he knew what it was:
A massive explosion of spiritual energy from heaven and earth, so rich that it descended to the mortal realm in liquid form!
For all living beings, it was an invaluable treasure.
The supporting army was in a frenzy, grabbing every bottle and jar they could find—of course, the best were basins and tubs—standing outside to catch the rainwater while also opening their mouths and shedding their clothes, hoping to absorb as much as possible!
He Lingchuan stood outside, looking up at the sky, where a full moon shone like silver, while he felt a light moisture on his face, a fine rain falling like silk, but he could smell a fresh and serene fragrance at the tip of his nose.
The scent was indescribable, reminiscent of ripe melons and fruits, of August osmanthus, of the smiles illuminated by the morning sun, and of the mountains and forests after the rain.
In short, it was refreshing and soothing, making one forget their worries.
Deep down, he felt a strong desire.
This desire was like suddenly seeing a feast after starving for seven days, or like a traveler on the brink of death in the desert finally crawling to an oasis...
It was a sincere cry from his heart:
“I want it!”
He Lingchuan did not dare to delay, following what he had seen, snatching two broad leaves from the banana grove, laying them neatly on the roof, and taking out a wine jar from his storage ring, pouring out the wine and leaving the jar to catch the spiritual dew.
He clearly remembered that Emperor’s Liquid, like rootless water, would seep into the soil upon contact, continuously settling deep into the ground, forming mysterious crystal veins through the movement of the earth’s meridians.
But it was something that could be encountered but not sought; no one could grasp its trajectory, and all living beings could only seize the moment.
The last appearance of Emperor’s Liquid was decades ago.
Fresh liquid was so precious; ancient texts stated that a single drop could equal ten days of cultivation.
Besides cultivation, it could also replenish one’s essence, allowing beings to be reborn.
Of course, discussing efficacy without considering dosage was foolish.
He Lingchuan had no way to verify how many milliliters a drop equated to, and the quality of Emperor’s Liquid should vary as well, right?
(End of Chapter)