Chapter Seventy-Six: Memories of the Village

The man’s name was Zheng Chang. Everyone in his village shared the surname Zheng, for they had all migrated from an obscure village in the Qi and Lu regions of the north several decades ago, during the tumultuous wars that ravaged the Central Plains. Back then, the entire village journeyed south, seeking refuge. Now, though the world had found peace, they had grown accustomed to life in the south. Zheng Chang’s generation was born here, and so they considered themselves southerners.

They strove to integrate, even adopting the local dialect. Near their village lay a small town and several other villages, all inhabited by people. Yet, in the mountains dwelled monsters. According to Zheng Chang, a monster on the mountain called himself the Great King of Spiritual Insight and had ravaged the area for many years, appearing when Zheng Chang was just seven or eight. The people in the villages and towns surrounding the mountain had all suffered greatly.

Their own village fared a bit better, thanks to the protection of the local Earth Deity. Yet just yesterday, the Great King of Spiritual Insight descended upon their village in person, demanding they offer their livestock in tribute. If they refused, he threatened to raze their village and consume the people as if they were mere animals.

Naturally, their Earth Deity sought to shield them, but he was wounded by the monster. Only through risking his own life was he able to drive the fiend off, who left after uttering dire threats.

After hearing all this, Chen Jin felt truly bewildered. What kind of era was this? What kind of world? With the Black Mountain Old Demon and now the Great King of Spiritual Insight—was he in the world of Journey to the West or Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio?

But such titles as “Great King of Spiritual Insight” were hardly exclusive. Chen Jin mused that he could claim a mountain for himself, erect a tablet, and declare himself the Great King of Spiritual Insight as well. Or he could sail the seas as a pirate captain and call himself the Great King of Spiritual Pirates. In the end, it was just a name.

Chen Jin pondered but did not dwell on it further. He was, in fact, more curious about the true nature of this Great King of Spiritual Insight. Was he, too, a carp spirit? Had he escaped from the Bodhisattva Guanyin’s grasp?

Then Zheng Chang informed him that the Great King of Spiritual Insight was a black bear demon.

Zheng Chang had seen his true form just yesterday—or rather, he had never taken human form at all. Perhaps he was unable to. The cultivation of demons differed from that of humans, and each species followed its own path.

From the memories Chen Jin had inherited from Xinyang, he knew that demonic cultivation could be divided into two broad types: demon-cultivation and human-cultivation.

In demon-cultivation, they followed their own innate methods. In human-cultivation, they learned the ways of human cultivation. Demons who cultivated as humans would eventually transform, becoming wholly human in every sense, and their progress could then be measured by human cultivation stages.

As for those who followed demon-cultivation, things were far more complicated, for the paths varied greatly. Snakes strove to become dragons, tigers sought to become white tigers or qilins, birds aspired to become phoenixes, and some remained in their original forms.

Their levels of mastery defied easy categorization, so human cultivators imposed a crude system: Lesser Demon, Greater Demon, Demon King, Demon God.

The demons didn’t bother to contest this and even found the ranking agreeable, thus, Demon Kings came to rule mountains everywhere.

This hierarchy, however, was only truly meaningful to humans, who used it to gauge a demon’s power. For demons themselves, it was largely irrelevant.

Lesser Demons compared to human cultivators at the State of Thought, Greater Demons were equivalent to those at the States of Qi and Spirit, Demon Kings matched the levels of Soul Gathering to Transcending Mortality, and Demon Gods were akin to immortals.

That mountain sprite from before wasn’t even a Lesser Demon. Owing to the peculiarities of its kind, it could employ minor illusions to befuddle ordinary folk, but these tricks were easily dispelled—just a crowd and sufficient noise would do the trick. The villagers had happened upon the correct method by chance.

As for the level of the Great King of Spiritual Insight, Chen Jin wouldn’t dare to guess, having yet to meet him. To speak without seeing would be reckless—best not to lose his life over a careless assumption.

Still, if he could be frightened off by the Earth Deity, he was likely something of a coward, his power probably not too great.

With that preliminary conclusion, Chen Jin followed Zheng Chang to his home.

Zheng Chang’s house was a mud-brick dwelling with three rooms and a courtyard. The yard was full of chickens, all quite plump—clearly, Zheng Chang took good care of them. He also kept a pen of pigs behind the house, a rare feat in the village; only one or two families managed both chickens and pigs, since feeding them wasn’t easy.

Zheng Chang was already married, though his wife was from a neighboring village, not this one. She was, it must be said, a formidable woman—broad-faced, broad-shouldered, and broad-waisted. Yet Zheng Chang always greeted her with a beaming smile, and she returned it in kind. They seemed to have married for love.

They had two children, a boy and a girl, just enough to write the character for “good fortune.” Life was good for them, save for the threat of monsters beyond their walls.

Chen Jin stayed only a short while, then asked Zheng Chang to take him to the village head’s house.

Chen Jin had little desire to visit the Earth Deity’s shrine—perhaps he simply wished to avoid entanglement, though he was already staying in the village.

The village head welcomed Chen Jin warmly, offering tea as a matter of course.

As for the tea itself, Chen Jin was at a loss for words. It was, to be honest, not very good. Having grown up in a well-to-do family, he had tasted fine teas and could tell the difference; for him, tea was more than just a thirst-quencher. If all he wanted was to quench his thirst, plain boiled water would suffice (as the author, who drinks boiled water every day, can attest).

Once the tea was served, the old man settled in to chat. Zheng Chang, having work to do in the fields, took his leave after a few sips.

The old man began reminiscing about the past. He detected the faint accent of Qi and Lu in Chen Jin’s speech and spoke fondly of his own homeland.

He came from the Wei County region and was especially nostalgic for the winds there. Comparing them to the winds of Suzhou, he found himself missing the north all the more. He also recalled how his old home was free of the monsters that plagued Jiangnan.

All in all, his homeland seemed perfect—such is the way of longing for what one cannot have.

Then he spoke of the Earth Deity.

The Earth Deity, it turned out, had once been a cultivator himself, though only skilled in minor spells. He was also possessed of great strength, a benefit of reaching the State of Thought, which fortified his body’s essence. With his might and magical prowess, he had led the villagers in carving out this settlement, laying its foundations.

Tragically, he died protecting the villagers, perishing alongside a fierce tiger. In gratitude, the villagers built a shrine and sculpted a clay image to honor him. They never expected that he would become the Earth Deity, able to continue safeguarding the people and the land.

Having recounted the past, the old man gazed at Chen Jin with hopeful, longing eyes—clouded with age, yet brimming with expectation.