Chapter Fourteen: Wishing for a Li Yuanfang

"Where did everyone go?" Chen Jin narrowed his eyes, scanning the surroundings.

There was definitely something fishy going on here. Lan Gaoda had vanished all of a sudden, and his house was draped entirely in white mourning cloth. There was no way there wasn't some kind of plot behind all this.

Chen Jin was weighing whether he should just turn around and leave when, all at once, a horde of people rushed out like flies disturbed from a dung pit.

"That's him! That fake priest is the one who killed my father — our big brother!"

An entire crowd surged forward, hemming Chen Jin in, shrieking and howling as they tried to claw at his eyes, tear his tattered Taoist robe, and even aimed vicious kicks between his legs.

But Chen Jin was no Wang Goudan. With his physical strength, the moves he'd gradually picked up from the Thousand Changes of the Qiongqi, and the keen intuition bestowed by his tranquil state of mind, he simply twisted and sidestepped, and the force of his movements sent the lot of them sprawling like petals scattered by the wind.

"If you have something to say, speak plainly. If you act rashly, no matter how many of you there are, I won't be intimidated." Chen Jin swept a cold gaze over the crowd.

Truth be told, he really wasn't afraid of these people. Had this been the modern age, he might have been mowed down by a hail of bullets, but this was ancient times. Unless a barrage of crossbow bolts were fired point-blank, he had little to fear from these ordinary folk.

"You... you demon priest..." a young man began to curse, but Chen Jin shot him a glare that immediately snuffed out his defiance. The young man didn't dare utter another word, nor even meet his eyes.

In this world, it was clear: without a measure of force, one couldn't survive, much less protect the Way and pursue cultivation.

The rest of the crowd also lost their bluster. In this remote, ignorant mountain village, someone who could bring down a throng in a single instant was sure to be regarded as something supernatural. That was why the youth’s accusation had shifted from “fake priest” to “demon priest” — a sign of fear.

Since trouble had already found him, Chen Jin saw no reason to duck away. Besides, it looked as though he was being falsely accused, so he had no intention of leaving now.

And, most importantly, he meant to have a meal here.

Wang Goudan, that useless fellow, hadn’t eaten in two days. Though Chen Jin felt full of energy at the moment, he knew it was only a temporary effect, the body burning through the last of Wang Goudan’s fat reserves. Once those were gone, he'd be as weak as Wang Goudan had been — a monk with only a lofty mind but no means to guard the Way, easy prey for any demon or fiend.

Chen Jin grabbed the youth from the ground.

He knew this young man — Lan Gaoda’s youngest son, Lan Shentong, still unmarried, a brash and reckless lad.

"Tell me, what happened? How did your father die?" Chen Jin asked, looking at Lan Shentong with grave seriousness.

"Wasn't it because of you..." Lan Shentong started, clearly wanting to pin the blame on Chen Jin, but another glare silenced him.

"Priest, could you not trouble my youngest? Let me explain," a middle-aged woman stepped forward.

Her face was full of fear — in fact, everyone present looked shaken, still frightened by Chen Jin’s earlier display. Still, it took great courage for her to come forward, since the young man in question was her own flesh and blood.

Chen Jin felt a bit helpless. Had he really been hard on Lan Shentong? He’d only asked a question, nothing more.

"Very well. Speak," Chen Jin said, releasing Lan Shentong and turning toward the woman.

"His father died last night," she said, her voice trembling. "When he passed, he was crying out, begging his ancestors for mercy..."

The memory of Lan Gaoda’s death clearly haunted her.

"I see. Do you know why I came here at this time?" Chen Jin nodded, his voice turning pensive.

Everyone stared at him — some with loathing, some with fear, some with relief, some with curiosity. All twenty-odd people looked up at him, not daring to respond.

So Chen Jin was left to speak to himself. Truly, to have a companion like Li Yuanfang by one’s side, as Judge Di did, was a blessing. At least then, someone could help him make a grand show of things...

"It was Lan Gaoda who invited me here. Just now, he came to my temple and asked me to perform a ritual," Chen Jin said, his gaze settling on a middle-aged man in a yellow Taoist robe standing at the entrance to the Lan household.

"My dear senior brother, you are truly skilled," the man squinted, his tone eager.

Indeed, Chen Jin was his senior, or rather, Wang Goudan was. Wang Goudan had entered their master’s tutelage before him, and Master Wang Erhu had favored Goudan. So despite the age difference, Goudan was still the senior disciple.

"So, it was you, my junior, who performed the ritual," Chen Jin said, cupping his hands in greeting.

When Master Wang Erhu was alive, he had sent his disciples out to all the neighboring counties and villages, not just Wenma County. There were rules: each was to tend to his own territory, and poaching was forbidden. That was why Wang Goudan had managed to survive; he was responsible for the handful of households at the foot of Gaoping Mountain, while Wenma County proper was his maternal family’s domain — and the Wang family was powerful enough that no one dared encroach. Thus, Wang Erhu’s disciples only worked the villages surrounding Wenma County.

Each was given a patch of land; some were more lucrative than others, which inevitably bred conflict. When Wang Erhu was alive, they acted discreetly, but now that he was gone, ambitions were beginning to stir.

The man before Chen Jin clearly had designs on his territory.

Master Wang Erhu had spent years in the Central Plains and brought back many of their rituals and customs, teaching them to his disciples. So, when disputes arose, they didn’t devolve into brutish brawls.

"Senior brother, you misunderstand. The Lan family specifically invited me; I didn’t snatch your work," the man said softly.

He had witnessed Chen Jin send the Lan family’s crowd sprawling and was, in truth, somewhat afraid of him. He also resented Wang Erhu for keeping some skills to himself.

"I have no wish to argue. You may leave now; I’ll handle things here," Chen Jin declared, his tone low and commanding.

Even though his tattered robe made it hard for anyone to see him as imposing, after seeing him topple over twenty people single-handedly, everyone present felt his aura of dominance.

The middle-aged man squinted at Chen Jin for some time.

Chen Jin, growing impatient, prepared to stride over and chase him off. The man sighed and said, "Senior brother, might I assist you as your helper?"

"No," Chen Jin refused without hesitation. With so many young men in the Lan family, why would he need this old fellow?

"Very well, I’ll go. If you run into anything you can’t handle, come find me — I’ll be staying at the village head’s house," the man said, his face flushing with anger. In the end, though, he retreated. He knew his tricks were no match for Chen Jin.

"That won’t be necessary," Chen Jin replied coolly.

The man’s face turned purple with frustration.

Alas, he didn’t keel over from rage. He simply slunk away, taking his assistants and disciples with him.

At last, Chen Jin could enjoy a proper meal.