Chapter Thirty-Seven: After the Fresh Rain in the Empty Mountains

Ever since the night when Liu Chengyin slaughtered the city, more than half a month had passed, the Spring Equinox giving way to the approaching Clear Bright Festival. In these days, Zhong Ming’s life had been peaceful, as if after Liu Chengyin’s rampage on the border, all the strange happenings had been frightened into hiding by the old demon. The young man enjoyed the quiet; he practiced his blade and cultivated his energy, occasionally strolling to the fields to admire the lush, green wheat seedlings, or gathering the children who ran about the village to his courtyard, teaching them to read and write.

Just two days ago, Zhong Ming heard from Yang Yanlang that Liu Chengyin had delved deep into the heartlands of the New Tang. In Xinting, there was a pair of ill-fated lovers—a tale as old as time, the wealthy heiress and the poor scholar. Liu Chengyin, riding out with a thousand corpses at his command, had forced the grand family to accept the impoverished scholar as their son-in-law. The affair caused a stir throughout Xinting; the authorities issued proclamations for Liu Chengyin’s arrest, bestowing upon him a fearsome title: “King of Flying Corpses.” Stories and rumors about Liu Chengyin began to circulate in the martial world, the storytellers painting him as a figure of legend, even claiming he could rival Lady Echan of the Jade Pavilion.

Some said Liu Chengyin was a millennia-old mummy turned spirit, now a flying corpse or drought demon; others claimed he was the Jade Pavilion’s chief disciple, who had betrayed his sect and now wrought havoc upon the world. Few spoke well of him, except for those lovers in hardship, who all hoped to meet Liu Chengyin, dreaming he might right their wrongs.

Hearing these tales, Zhong Ming had chuckled with Liang Blackie, saying that the notorious killer had become a matchmaker in the martial world. Today, however, brought no such amusements. As noon approached, Zhong Ming had spent the entire morning practicing his blade in the courtyard.

Recently, the young man’s swordsmanship had improved greatly. He trained the Three-Gale Blade Technique diligently; with the first form, “Sweeping Sandstorm,” he had grasped its essence. The momentum of the blade, akin to a dragon moving through earth, was beginning to show—out of five attempts, there was always one where the earth dragon advanced. Though his earth dragon was far inferior to the night in the ruined temple, now only as slender as a serpent, it was his own hard-earned skill. Zhong Ming was content.

Many had warned him not to rush his training, so he no longer practiced with reckless abandon. Compared to his blade technique, his cultivation of inner energy was advancing by leaps and bounds. With Elder Willow’s spiritual energy aiding him, he progressed in the path of cultivation as if riding a thousand-li horse. A month ago, he had only a strand of true energy passed from Old Man Sun; now the cluster of spiritual energy within him had shrunk, the original true energy growing denser and rotating around the spiritual energy, followed by a new strand of true energy as thick as a finger.

There are nine levels of energy-seeking; only upon reaching the ninth is one considered complete. Now, the young man possessed two strands of true energy. At his current pace, he would achieve full energy-seeking within a year. Even Yang Yanlang, the Overlord of the Earth Tyrant Spear, praised his speed.

It was largely thanks to Elder Willow’s spiritual energy, and for this, Zhong Ming felt deep gratitude. The willow branch he brought back from the ruined temple that night had been planted in his courtyard. With Zhong Ming’s careful tending, the branch had stubbornly survived; perhaps, in a hundred or a thousand years, it would become a new Elder Willow.

Only now, the willow would bear the surname Zhong, not Liu.

The sun blazed overhead, growing stronger with each passing day. By late morning, it was already hot enough to make one’s back damp with sweat. Zhong Ming stood in the courtyard, eyes tightly closed. The Yanluo Resonance Blade hung at his side, dragging against the ground, his body motionless and steadfast as a stone, holding this posture for half a stick of incense’s time.

Suddenly, Zhong Ming opened his eyes. The Yanluo Resonance Blade in his hand cried like a dragon sparrow, a red surge of energy climbing up its edge. The blade lifted; dust swirled in the small courtyard as the red blade force burrowed underground, winding forward, passing through the fence and striking the open ground outside. With a light sound, sand and gravel shot up.

The patch of land outside the fence was surrounded by thriving grass, but its center was bare—scoured clean by his repeated practice of “Sweeping Sandstorm.” With the earth dragon’s momentum achieved, Zhong Ming calmed his breath and sheathed his blade.

Sheathing the blade was a skill in itself. At first, Zhong Ming had to press the back of the blade with his fingers to slide it in, but now he could do it by feel, without even looking. Nothing but familiarity—practice makes perfect.

Clearly, the young man hadn’t been idle these days.

Seeing it was nearly noon, Zhong Ming decided not to practice further. He put away the Resonance Blade and prepared to return indoors.

Just then, the sound of hooves echoed outside the courtyard. Liang Yu arrived, riding a black stallion. His attire had changed greatly; he now wore a brocade robe, his waist adorned with a regulation saber, his once wild ponytail tied into a warrior’s topknot.

It was because Liang Yu had been frequenting the Commandant’s office, hoping to learn real skills from the Scaled Cavalry. Liang Yu’s complexion was dark, but his heart was honest and he had his ambitions.

Once, he scraped by on the border, worrying daily about his next meal. Now, with food no longer an issue, he dreamed of earning an official post, becoming a dignified magistrate. From ancient times, it was said: “The poor should not contend with the rich, nor the commoner with the official.” Liang Yu was shrewd; he knew that if he could join the Scaled Cavalry, his life would be free from want, and should he perform meritorious deeds on the battlefield, he might even become a high-ranking official.

So Zhong Ming had mentioned it to Yang Yanlang, hoping that Liang Yu could follow the Scaled Cavalry as a soldier. Yang Yanlang saw that Liang Yu had some smarts, so he had Sun Longhu take him under his wing as a blade-bearing attendant, letting him train with the Scaled Cavalry. When Liang Yu was ready, Yang Yanlang would request a scale armor for him and take him under his own command.

With his slick tongue and Zhong Ming’s connections, Liang Yu was doing well. In just over a month, he had acquired a saber for his belt and a fine horse to ride.

Arriving at the courtyard, Liang Yu dismounted and strode quickly inside.

Once through the door, he hurried to Zhong Ming’s side and whispered, “Brother Ming, there’s news about the Wu residence.”

“Oh? What did Magistrate He say?”

The two youths were discussing the sale of the Wu residence.

A month ago, Liu Qizhi had slaughtered the Wu family, leaving not a single descendant. The vast Wu residence became an empty manor. The five Wu families occupied an entire neighborhood, and it would not do for the mansion to remain vacant. Magistrate He led people to tidy up the residence, collecting all valuables for the county treasury, to be used for repairing the city walls.

The Wu residence was thus put up for sale, with notices posted on the county bulletin board.

But a thousand lives had been lost there just a month prior, all at the hands of the King of Flying Corpses, Liu Chengyin. Rumors spread that the Wu family’s resentment was heavy, and their souls had become vengeful ghosts, seeking lives within the mansion.

As luck would have it, a constable died while cleaning the Wu residence. The rumors of vengeful ghosts grew rampant, known throughout the city. No one dared buy the Wu residence—people even avoided walking near the Wu family’s street, fearing the ghosts might possess them.

But Zhong Ming did not believe these rumors. He had seen it with his own eyes that night: Liu Chengyin commanded a sea of corpses to slaughter the Wu family, taking both bodies and souls away. There could be no ghosts left behind.

Just as Zhong Ming suspected, the constable had not died from vengeful ghosts, but for another reason.

Liang Yu had investigated this matter. He whispered to Zhong Ming, “Brother Ming, I slipped the steward two taels of silver and quietly asked. That constable died because he tried to hide a gold ingot. Magistrate He caught him on the spot; in panic, the constable swallowed the gold, trying to conceal it, but choked to death.”

“What a shame!”

Zhong Ming shook his head, feeling sorry for the constable.

Men die for wealth as birds die for food—a single gold ingot is enough to cloud anyone’s judgment.

Liang Yu scratched his head, knowing that Brother Ming had his eye on the Wu mansion. If it wasn’t haunted, that should be good news, so why was Zhong Ming sighing in disappointment?

He could not comprehend Zhong Ming’s sentimental nature. Having crawled up from heaps of corpses, Liang Yu was indifferent to others’ deaths, never moved by the fate of strangers.

Liang Yu asked, “Brother Ming, what do we do next? Should we buy the Wu residence?”

Zhong Ming thought for a moment, then answered, “We will buy it, but we must consider how to get the villagers of Muddy Village to move in with us.”

The Wu residence was vast, occupying an entire district. Even if the young man bought it, he could not live there alone; he also hoped to bring in the villagers of Muddy Village, making full use of the space.

But the villagers would not simply move in with him. Zhong Ming understood, but those illiterate peasants would not. Even if they agreed, the rumors of ghosts would keep them anxious, and if fear made them neglect their work or fall ill, it would be a loss.

Zhong Ming spoke of buying the mansion, but Liang Yu worried about the money, asking, “Brother Ming, we want to buy the Wu residence, but won’t that cost a fortune? Where will we get the silver?”

Money was not a problem for Zhong Ming. The Wu residence was empty and unsellable. Magistrate He would not demand a high price; the valuables inside had already filled his coffers. Now, Magistrate He’s worry was that the residence remained uninhabited.

Such a large mansion left empty meant the town lost a district, which was hard to explain to his superiors. Without residents, the ghost rumors would persist, keeping the people fearful—a problem for those under his charge.

Zhong Ming smiled mysteriously, saying, “I have my ways to buy the Wu residence. If I am willing to bring people in, Magistrate He would hand over the deed to me, even for free.”

He paused, frowning, “But persuading the villagers is not easy. We need to find a way to get them to move in.”

“That’s easy!” Liang Yu, ever resourceful, scratched his chin and replied, “It’ll be Clear Bright Festival in a couple of days. I heard Uncle Sun has found a Taoist priest to handle our village’s rites, to pacify the restless souls on the barren hill. We could ask Uncle Sun to have the priest conduct a ceremony at the Wu residence afterward, tricking the villagers into believing the ghosts have been exorcised.”

Zhong Ming nodded immediately. “That’s a good plan, Blackie! After a couple of days training with Brother Longhu, your mind has become sharp.”

Receiving praise from Brother Ming, Liang Blackie grinned from ear to ear.

Seeing it was noon, Zhong Ming glanced at the sun and said, “Time for lunch. Come, Blackie, I’ll cook you a plate of beef today to reward you for your clever scheme.”

Liang Blackie laughed, “That’s great, Brother Ming! I’ll help you slice the beef!”

Zhong Ming teased, “Be sure to wash your hands! Last time, the beef porridge tasted odd—I suspect it was because your hands weren’t clean.”

The two youths laughed and walked into the house.

In the courtyard, a willow branch swayed in the corner, its tender green shoots growing strong.

Just like the young men themselves—willows waving in the breeze, destined to become fine talents.