After Dezi respectfully finished offering incense, the group began walking towards the temple exit. Dezi even greeted Daoist Hu at the temple, but the latter was too busy fiddling with firewood to even lift his head.
“Please forgive him, both of you. Daoist Hu is a refugee from the north. I heard his entire family starved to death due to famine, and his wealth was completely looted by Qi troops. That’s why he became a Daoist,” Dezi quietly apologized, sympathetically adding, “He went through such drastic changes, so his temperament has become a bit odd, but he’s a good person. He knows how to repair rooftops, and anyone in the village who has a leaky roof will ask for his help.”
Meng Qi slightly raised his eyebrows. He had imagined several possibilities but hadn’t expected that this Daoist Hu won the villagers’ favor in this way.
Mo Li, however, understood even more. In the cold north, houses are built sturdily, fearing snow accumulation, whereas in the south, it’s different. There’s always a time of year when it drizzles nonstop, making repairs necessary. Regardless of wealth, every family needs to fix their house to prevent leaks, and many of the injured in the countryside often get hurt falling from rooftops—eight out of ten cases.
Falling usually doesn’t kill you unless you hit your head.
But if you’re injured badly enough to need a doctor, it’s usually not a good sign.
Those who aren’t rescued in time, can’t afford treatment, or develop infections… if lucky, are left disabled; if unlucky, they lose their lives.
So, if there’s only a minor leak, people prefer to place a pot or a bucket to catch the water rather than go on the roof.
If there’s someone in the village willing to fix roofs for free, people would indeed be happy to welcome them.
“His whole family starved to death due to famine? Was it the recent three years of drought in Yongzhou?” Meng Qi casually asked.
If Daoist Hu dared to climb rooftops so easily, he must know martial arts…
“Yes, yes, it’s been a short while since he arrived. He said there’s no need to build a house, since as a Daoist, he can live in the Mountain God Temple. He even helps with cleaning,” Dezi explained awkwardly with a dry laugh. “Though the temple doesn’t need repairs, cleaning is still necessary. We can’t let the Mountain God reside in a dusty, cobweb-filled place. We have to clear the weeds, too, so that yellow weasels and rats don’t make nests and ruin the temple. Before Daoist Hu came, the village families took turns cleaning.”
Meng Qi nodded, understanding the situation.
“Old master?” Dezi noticed Meng Qi had stopped walking and turned around, puzzled.
It was getting dark soon. Although traveling by boat wasn’t difficult, the boarding plank was made of wood, and a misstep could lead to a fall.
Old men’s vision worsens in the dark, so Dezi was about to urge him forward, only to see Meng Qi staring fixedly at a section of the temple’s courtyard wall.
The low wall had collapsed due to the rain, and later the villagers had casually piled bricks to fill the gap. Daoist Hu was sneakily climbing over the wall, seemingly heading towards the forest behind the temple.
The collapsed part of the wall was at a corner, with a large willow tree nearby, providing cover. With the sun setting and light coming from the opposite direction, if Meng Qi hadn’t been watching that spot, Dezi wouldn’t have noticed the figure.
“Daoist Hu? What are you doing?” Dezi shouted.
The Daoist, startled while climbing the wall, missed lifting his right foot, causing him to trip over the bricks and fall flat on his face.
Dezi quickly ran over to check on him.
Only then did Daoist Hu realize that the three people who should have left were still standing by the dock—though “dock” was just two stone slabs and a stone post for tying boats. It was unclear whether the two old men had walked too slowly or if Dezi had been too talkative, but by now, with the sky nearly dark, their dawdling had caught him red-handed.
“Oh, it hurts… Dezi, why shout? You nearly scared me to death,” Daoist Hu said, clutching his bruised nose, furious.
The fall had left him with a sore waist, legs, and even a scratched face.
Meng Qi smiled subtly.
Mo Li, looking at Daoist Hu’s fallen posture, frowned slightly.
Then, the two exchanged glances, each understanding the same thing: this Daoist Hu knew martial arts but pretended not to.
— When he fell, his body was unusually stiff. Initially, he had the momentum to leap up but quickly adjusted mid-fall, cutting the movement short and letting himself collapse in an exaggerated mess.
It could’ve been worse, except this man wasn’t cruel to himself, nor did he convincingly commit to the act.
As his face was about to hit the ground, at the last moment, he tilted his head to avoid smashing his nose.
Both Meng Qi and Mo Li thought, if it were us falling, we’d make it flawless without any injury to the face.
— Teacher Meng prided himself on his top-tier acting skills, while Doctor Mo was a master of medical knowledge, including how to fake injuries.
Dezi, scolded by Daoist Hu, seemed displeased and asked directly, “Why climb the wall instead of using the gate? I’ve told you before, when gathering wild vegetables in the woods, don’t try to save time by scaling the wall. You can’t just climb the Mountain God’s wall casually. Now you’ve hurt yourself; where will I find you a doctor?”
“I’m fine, no need for a doctor!” Daoist Hu said grumpily.
Dezi, relieved to hear this, waved his hand dismissively, saying, “Then I’m leaving.”
Daoist Hu didn’t dare look at Meng Qi, groaning as he limped back to the temple.
Meng Qi didn’t stop him, and the three boarded the boat.
Dezi, pushing the boat along with his pole, still had a sour look on his face. Suddenly, Meng Qi asked, “Didn’t you say this Daoist was a good person?”
“…He’s acting strange today,” Dezi mumbled, keeping his head down.
Meng Qi smiled without a word, standing at the bow of the boat as if admiring the sunset reflected on the lake. Mo Li, on the other hand, was focused on the Mountain God Temple by the shore.
After a short while, a pigeon flew out from the forest behind the temple.
The pigeon was heading toward the mountains. Meng Qi rubbed his fingers inside his sleeve, smiling faintly as he transmitted his thoughts, “This spy’s identity is solid, but the person is a bit foolish.”
Mo Li replied, unsurprised, “If all his subordinates were smart and capable, Ayanpuka wouldn’t be in his current position.”
“No, no, Ah Li, you didn’t catch my point,” Meng Qi said confidently, hands clasped behind his back. “This Mountain God Temple is so peculiar that Ayanpuka must have noticed it. Once he investigates the villagers’ strange beliefs about the Mountain God, he’ll start suspecting the village elders, just like we did.”
“So?”
“If the elder is still living well in the village, but the one stationed at the temple is this incompetent fool, it means Ayanpuka has other motives. The spy is only here to report to Ayanpuka that we’ve arrived. The legend of the Mountain God is his clue to lead us to the dragon vein.”
Mo Li furrowed his brows, glancing quietly at Dezi, who was steering the boat.
If things were as Meng Qi suggested, then Dezi, who had volunteered to guide them to the temple, might be part of the problem.
His earlier shout seemed like a deliberate attempt to stop Daoist Hu from going into the forest to check the pigeon coop, and his later act of helping Daoist Hu appeared less like scolding and more like explaining away the wall-climbing.
“Haha, no need to worry, doctor. He’s likely a genuine villager, just paid a bit to lead us to the Mountain God Temple and mention that earlier story. That’s why we didn’t notice anything wrong until Daoist Hu messed up,” Meng Qi continued with interest. “But judging by the villagers’ reactions, they truly believe in the temple’s efficacy, so what Dezi said might actually be true. And that’s where things get interesting.”
Mo Li wasn’t sure what was so interesting. He said gravely, “If Ayanpuka left us this clue, it’s bound to be misleading. He wants us to follow it step by step, eventually leading us to the dragon vein in Feihe Mountain. Using my connection to the dragon vein, he intends to make it manifest. I have no patience for his riddles.”
“Well said!” Meng Qi raised his hands as if to applaud.
For strategists, the greatest mistake is to follow the path laid out by others. Even if that path reveals the truth, it may be distorted by a missing or extra clue.
By then, they may find the dragon vein, but misunderstandings or conflicts could arise between them and it.
Mo Li glared at Meng Qi quietly. There were still people on the boat; no need for applause.
Meng Qi regretfully lowered his hands.
“When we reach the village, we’ll ask Dezi who the knowledgeable elder is.
“The elder will likely point us to a place or a person, claiming to have heard the story from there. That information should be true since I’m not easily deceived. Ayanpuka’s trickery will come later.
“We’ll pretend to visit that place or person tomorrow, but tonight, we’ll slip away without saying a word.
“But instead of going there, we’ll head directly into the mountains, change our appearances, and search for the dragon vein ourselves, letting Ayanpuka’s men wait for nothing!”
Meng Qi said all this in one breath, then mischievously winked at Mo Li.
Mo Li: “…”
This 87-year-old grandmaster, usually so dignified, looked utterly shameless when winking like this.
***
The swordsman in the bamboo hat walked alone along the road.
He wore a gray tunic, his hat covering him from head to toe, and with a sword hanging at his waist, any commoner who saw him quickly kept their distance.
They couldn’t afford to mess with this type of wandering warrior who lived by the sword.
Su Li just emerged from a dense forest. He had escorted Blacksmith Wang’s family for over a hundred miles, taking remote paths to avoid being tracked by the Xiliang people. Eventually, they found a small, secluded village where Wang’s family could settle. Afterward, Su Li went straight into the mountains.
Once he estimated that no one would be able to follow him, and that no one could trace where Wang’s family was hidden, Su Li finally ended his time of eating in the wind and sleeping under the stars, and made his way back to more populated areas.
As evening approached, after walking the entire day, the swordsman’s throat was parched.
As an assassin, he knew many precautions.
Su Li only drank fresh water, and it had to be from the upstream source. During the summer, he wouldn’t even drink river water unless it came from a mountain spring.
— No matter how skilled he was in martial arts, a bout of diarrhea could still be deadly. Su Li never took risks with his life.
From a distance, he saw a tea stand by the roadside. Su Li touched his money pouch; there were still a few copper coins left, enough for a bowl of cold tea.
The moment he stepped into the tea stand, the buzzing chatter inside abruptly ceased.
The laborers dressed as porters stared at the swordsman, who sat in the farthest corner facing the wall. After ordering cold tea and keeping quiet, they realized he didn’t seem like someone looking for trouble, so their conversation slowly resumed.
The porters sat on the ground, fanning themselves after removing their jackets.
“This damned weather, it’s unbearably hot.”
One of the laborers, complaining loudly, raised his neck and gulped down another bowl of tea. While drinking, he spat out coarse tea leaves, cursing, “What’s the deal, shopkeeper? Putting tree branches in the tea?”
“Nonsense! The wind must’ve blown them in,” the old man running the tea stand replied with a smile.
“Pah! What wind? It’s this scorching heat, and there’s no wind outside!”
The large man grabbed the shopkeeper by the collar, ready to make a scene, but either due to his force or the fact that the old man’s clothes had been washed too many times, the shirt ripped with a loud tear. Everyone froze.
The laborer quickly fled, leaving the shopkeeper angrily shouting after him, demanding he pay for the damage.
The rest of the porters found the commotion amusing, while their leader, a minor official, was at his wit’s end, stomping his foot and cursing, “It’ll be dark soon! If you don’t deliver this by noon tomorrow, you’ll all be getting the magistrate’s rod!”
Su Li’s ears twitched slightly. Were these people conscripted laborers?
When the government was short on manpower, they would draft commoners for corvée labor, sometimes to build roads or dikes, and more often to transport goods to nearby counties or prefectures. Since it wasn’t grain tax season in Yuzhou, and there were no rivers needing dikes, the carts behind the tea stand didn’t seem to be carrying anything particularly valuable—just a lot of it.
“What’s there to be afraid of at night? We’re not delivering tribute grain, just fodder. Do you think bandits would even bother with us?”
“Exactly, it’s easier to travel at night!”
The porters chimed in one after another, while the official, whose face was as red as a steamed crab from the heat, continued to shout, “Stop slacking off, get moving!”
Slowly, the group set off.
Su Li finished his tea, thought for a moment, and quietly followed.
In the past, a conscription to transport fodder wouldn’t have interested Su Li in the slightest. But now, knowing that his benefactor was actually from Xiliang, and that the forces of Xiliang had been biding their time to restore their nation, the fact that the Qi army was sending so much fodder to the county office in this oppressive heat definitely suggested something was afoot!
An hour later, Su Li overheard that armies were facing off on both sides of Jingzhou. The Qi dynasty’s navy and the Southern King Jing’s navy were on the verge of clashing, and grain and supplies from both Jingzhou and Yuzhou were being sent to the Qi navy’s camps.
Two hours later, Su Li learned the latest rumor: a notorious river bandit named Meng Qixing was planning to rob a shipment from the Fengwei Escort Agency.
Whether or not Fengwei Escort Agency actually had valuable goods was uncertain, but Fengwei Escort Agency was, in fact, a front for the Jinyiwei. This wasn’t only something the former head of the Piaoping Pavilion assassins, Su Li, knew; it was said that everyone in Yuzhou’s underworld was aware of it. Many real bandits were eager to test their skills, confident that Fengwei wouldn’t reach the capital and that the whole world would soon know they had something valuable.
Still confused and unable to find any leads, Su Li decided to visit the largest, most powerful sect near Yuzhou for more information.
Three hours later, Su Li overheard yet another rumor at the Chunshan Sect. Supposedly, Teacher Meng had ordered someone to steal the Qi dynasty’s naval defense plans and deliver them to the Southern King Jing. However, King Jing had been assassinated, and the river bandit Meng Qixing was actually Meng Qi, who had secret dealings with the Qi dynasty’s Jinyiwei.
But the truth was far more complicated.
The truth was that the Chunshan Sect had been paid by a mysterious faction to help them obtain the Qi dynasty’s naval defense plans. They hired a traveling merchant named Huang Liu to serve as the scapegoat. During the frame-up, the Chunshan Sect’s head, Sect Master Ying, suspected that the reason he’d suffered a setback at Emperor Li’s tomb in Shangyun Mountain was due to a conspiracy orchestrated by the Jinyiwei and the infamous Teacher Meng. He also suspected that Elder Songya’s death was connected to Meng Qi, so he ordered someone to impersonate Meng Qi and leaked his name to Huang Liu.
How did Su Li know this? Because when he arrived at the Chunshan Sect’s headquarters, Sect Master Ying had just received a letter from the mysterious faction, scolding him for his reckless plan to frame others—especially for foolishly using Teacher Meng’s name. Furious, Sect Master Ying ordered his people to spread the latest “martial world rumor.”
Then, while sitting on the roof of the Chunshan Sect, trying to untangle the convoluted series of events, Su Li was found by Qiu Jing, the master of Fengxing Pavilion.
Pavilion Master Qiu told him that Meng Qi and Mo Li had indeed crossed the Yangtze River, and that the river bandit incident was also orchestrated by Meng Qi.
Su Li: “…”
He had only spent three days helping Blacksmith Wang’s family find a place to hide, and somehow, in that short time, all of this had happened?
