Chapter Seventy-Four: The Land

The fertile southern riverlands are renowned for their graceful water towns. At this moment, however, the water town had yet to take shape—there were no blue-bricked houses, no black-tiled roofs, no stone-paved streets, nor clear waters winding around the city. Instead, only earth lodges, wooden huts, and thatched cottages could be found. This was the norm in those times; after all, with undeveloped production techniques, bricks and tiles could not possibly be produced in sufficient quantity for grand clusters of buildings. The forests provided ample timber, and the ground was nothing but earth, so naturally earth lodges and wooden houses arose.

Chen Jin was wandering through such a small village, unaware whether, in future generations, this place might become a bustling metropolis. The village was not large, comprising about a hundred houses—one for each household—with a total population of four or five hundred people. Most were young adults and children, with few elderly among them. This was only natural; from Chen Jin’s perspective, elders should be at least fifty or sixty, yet in this era, reaching such an age was a rare feat, beset by countless diseases waiting to claim the old.

As Chen Jin ambled into the village, he drew some attention. He had not bothered to restrain the growth of his beard, and at his age, it was at its most unruly and vigorous, growing even faster than spring onions. From Mount Lao to these riverlands of Suzhou, he had travelled for nearly three months, moving at a brisk pace. Along the way, he never once lost his way; as a cultivator, reading the signs of heaven was a basic requirement, so by glancing at the sky, he could always discern the proper direction.

Truthfully, Chen Jin had considered letting the ocean currents carry him southward, but in these times, the sea currents were unpredictable, the waters teeming with monsters capable of stirring up storms and chaos. Seeing his own slight frame, he decided it was safer to journey by land.

After making a circuit of the village, Chen Jin paused beside a small earth temple dedicated to the local deity. This temple, though crude, housed an actual spirit. Chen Jin wished to converse with the most informed being of the area—the Earth God.

The temple was shabby, but better than nothing. Besides, the Earth God was not a grand deity; it would be improper to build his temple too lavishly, for such excess would violate the rules of the divine, and the Earth God might even be punished. Chen Jin entered the temple—it was just large enough for a person to squeeze inside. He was about to sit cross-legged when villagers approached.

“Hey, Daoist inside! What are you doing in our Earth God’s temple?” asked a burly man, stepping out from the crowd. His speech was laced with a thick Suzhou accent.

“Just thought the Earth God might be lonely, so I came to chat,” Chen Jin replied casually.

“You can talk to the Earth God?” The man’s anger faded, replaced by cautious curiosity.

“He says you’re all very filial, and he’s pleased. He wants you to go work the fields now, while he speaks with me,” Chen Jin answered without hesitation.

Indeed, the Earth God had appeared before Chen Jin, though the deity had yet to speak when Chen Jin supplied his lines.

“Did the Earth God really say that?” The man looked at Chen Jin in wonder, and the other villagers mirrored his expression.

“Yes, I’ve never been one for falsehoods,” Chen Jin said, making the customary gesture of a Daoist.

“Well…well…” The man flushed with delight.

“Don’t crowd here, let me speak with the Earth God,” Chen Jin waved his hand, urging everyone to disperse.

“Daoist, could you ask the Earth God a few questions for us?” The villagers did not leave, but gazed at Chen Jin earnestly.

“My young friend, I know what they wish to ask. Answer them for me; this old fellow is all right,” the Earth God spoke up.

Ah, it seems there’s a story here.

Chen Jin’s expression shifted; he nodded, agreeing.

“Your Earth God just told me he’s fine. Go about your business without worry,” Chen Jin relayed.

The Earth God did appear somewhat weak, as if wounded.

The villagers’ faces brightened with joy, though traces of concern lingered.

“Go on now, don’t let this year’s harvest suffer; otherwise, your Earth God will be displeased,” Chen Jin urged.

“Everyone, disperse! Don’t disturb the Earth God,” an elderly man, supported by a young fellow, squeezed through the crowd to shoo the villagers away.

“Daoist, apologies. My juniors have troubled you,” the elder said, hands clasped in respect. His speech bore the northern dialect—specifically from the Qi-Lu region. Though dialects varied across Qi-Lu, Chen Jin was only familiar with the one from Mount Lao. Yet this elder could discern Qi-Lu traces within Chen Jin’s Suzhou accent; his hearing was as keen as the young.

“Get to the fields, all of you! Don’t miss the farming season. Anyone who does, I’ll beat them myself!” the elder barked in the Suzhou dialect, his voice sonorous and vigorous despite his age.

“He’s an old friend. I often send him my vitality, which is why his energy is so robust,” the Earth God explained, seeing the question in Chen Jin’s eyes.

“You can’t manifest yourself?” Chen Jin asked, using spiritual thought rather than words. Since his last surge in spiritual strength, he could communicate directly via intent.

“I was injured recently; my spiritual body damaged, so I cannot appear,” the Earth God replied.

“I see,” Chen Jin nodded.

“Are none of them local to Suzhou?” he asked.

“We all migrated here fifty years ago. I was once just a villager, but after receiving their worship, I became the Earth God,” the deity explained.

Chen Jin regarded the Earth God with curiosity. From his words, it was clear he had not been properly appointed by any higher deity—making him a false god at best, or even a heretical spirit. He had neither the official blessing of human authority nor the divine mandate. Moreover, the Earth God was technically an extension of the Underworld, yet this one had not been recognized by the Underworld either. In fact, he had originally been a wandering soul, making him doubly illicit…

But the Underworld itself was rife with unattended matters, let alone the mortal realm, which was far beyond their reach unless someone filed a formal complaint…

Of course, Chen Jin had no intention of reporting him. In these times, Earth God temples were everywhere, and some were even occupied by malicious ghosts masquerading as gods, preying upon the people. Thus, a spirit who genuinely sought to protect the villagers was rare, and in such cases, leniency was warranted.

…