Chapter 92: Eighteenth Day of the Twelfth Month

Chapter 92: The Eighteenth Day of the Twelfth Lunar Month

Hearing Li Huowang's words, Wu Qing, his cheek still swollen on one side, snorted coldly. Holding his bowl, he shifted his stool, turning his back on the young man who had just emerged from the west wing.

"Heh, that would make me look petty. Senior Brother Li, I suppose it cost you quite a bit of silver to persuade him?"

With that, he strode straight into the main hall, plucked a pale yellow steamed bun from his bowl, and began to gnaw on it.

"Hey! You brat, how dare you speak like that!! Were you born but not raised by a mother?"

With Li Huowang backing him up, Wu Qing's demeanor was markedly different from when he had been tied up the previous night.

Hearing the old man actually dare to slander his mother, the fire he had been struggling to suppress within him erupted in an instant. "Clang!" A sword sharp enough to cleave iron was drawn and pointed straight at Wu Qing's goatee. "Say it again if you dare!!"

"What's going on, what's going on!" Wu Qing's six sons and eight grandsons set down their bowls, rolled up their sleeves, and surged forward with menacing hostility.

"Damn it all to hell! You think I'm afraid of you? Let's see who dares to step forward!! I've got hundreds of lives on my hands! I wouldn't mind adding a few more, so take another step if you've got the guts!"

Looking at the hostile glares of the people before him, he instinctively felt an extreme surge of irritation, his heartbeat quickening involuntarily.

"Put the sword down and go stand outside the door!!" A sharp rebuke shattered the tense atmosphere.

Seeing Li Huowang's expression turn stern, he knew his senior brother was truly angry. Casting a disdainful glare at the Wu family members around him, he sheathed his sword and turned toward the door.

His senior brother's voice continued to drift into his ears from behind. "Old man, youths with downy cheeks love to boast and talk tough, but it's all empty bluster. This kid has never killed a single person."

"Hmph, this little whelp is all bark and no bite, do you think I can't see that? Tsk, these young lads think they're so capable, but they're just greenhorns. This old man has eaten more salt than they've eaten rice."

Hearing this, he turned around in anger. What if he was young? Wasn't a fourteen-year-old a man? This old man just knew how to lean on his age.

But when he felt Li Huowang's cold gaze pierce into him, his heart skipped a beat, and he hurriedly ran out the door.

Early in the morning, a thin layer of white mist rose along the village path, the air exceptionally crisp. He stretched his arms out wide, giving a vigorous stretch, then rolled up the patched sleeves of his robe and squatted on the ground to watch the ants.

"Hey, monk, what are you squatting there for?"

He stood up, smoothed his yellow monastic robe, and politely pressed his palms together in greeting to the white-haired girl before him. "Amitabha, well said, well said. This humble monk is observing Zen."

"Hehe, you monk, you're quite amusing, acting like a child. Watching ants move their nest and insisting you're observing Zen."

Watching the girl's white eyelashes tremble slightly, the monk was momentarily lost in thought, as if remembering something.

But snapping back to his senses, he immediately lowered his head and began to chant sutras, no longer daring to meet the gaze of the girl who had so easily shaken his Buddhist heart.

"You go on observing your Zen, then. Farewell."

Watching the girl enter the Wu family compound, he noticed quite a few unfamiliar faces in the courtyard. "Has the village head's house received guests? How come I haven't heard a word about it in the past few days?"

The monk stood there, gazing at these strangely dressed outlanders. Suddenly, he slapped his forehead.

"What's wrong with me? Why am I acting like those long-tongued gossips at the village entrance, prying into other people's family affairs? A monk should not be attached to worldly matters; I'd better go chant my sutras." The monk swiftly turned, spinning the prayer beads in his hand as he walked back toward his temple.

As he walked, he spotted a pile of dung on the ground. Before he could even get close, a child with a bamboo basket on his back rushed over, scooped up the cow dung, and tossed it into the basket behind him. "This is dung from my family's cow! It's mine!"

Hearing this, he immediately grew anxious. "What do you mean it's from your family's cow? I could say it's from my family's cow! No way! This cow dung must be given to me!"

The child pulled a funny face at him with both hands over his face. "Shame, shame, shame~ You're an old man of such advanced age, yet you're fighting a child over cow dung."

His weathered face instantly flushed red, and he raised his cane to teach this disrespectful youth a lesson.

Seeing the child pull another face and scamper away quickly, he couldn't help but chuckle at his own folly. "I'm already so old, why am I still getting angry over a child's antics."

Leaning on his cane, he strolled leisurely to the small courtyard where he had lived his entire life. He slowly settled into his rocking chair, quietly watching the leaves fall from the trees in the yard, reminiscing about his ordinary life.

Just then, the teasing voice of an old neighbor drifted from the gate. "Old bones~ You're eighty-four this year. The old saying goes well, seventy-three, eighty-four, when the King of Hell doesn't summon you, you go on your own. When are you going? Hahaha~"

"Hey!! You old rascal, always cursing me. Just wait till I curse you back."

Just as he was about to rise from his rocking chair, a sudden feeling washed over him: his time had come. He had often heard the elders say that there were omens before death, and he never expected it to be true.

He felt everything around him shrinking, as if he were rising upward, his body light and floating, feeling incredibly comfortable. "So... this is what it feels like to die?"

But in the next instant, the surroundings abruptly changed, beginning to warp and twist, even his deeply wrinkled face contorting rapidly.

Sometimes turning into a teenager in his teens, sometimes transforming into a monk with ordination scars on his head, and even striving to morph into an old woman.

Yet after shifting rapidly a few times, his face finally settled back into that of a young boy.

Staring at the familiar yet strange white walls before him, he was momentarily stunned as three ultimate questions surfaced in his mind.

"Who am I? Where is this? What am I supposed to do?"

Coincidentally, two people in hospital gowns walked past the nearby window, chatting as they went.

"I'm different from you guys. I have a neurological disorder, not a psychiatric illness. A neurological disorder just means there's a lesion in the central or peripheral nervous tissue. Neurological disorders have simply been stigmatized by being lumped together with psychiatric illnesses! Look, guys like Xiao Li are the ones with real psychiatric illnesses, talking nonsense and self-harming every day."

"Just say a few less words. That kid is pitiful too, catching such a severe illness at such a young age."

"Do you think Li Huowang would jump up and curse me? Hey, it would actually be better if he did. I'd rather take a couple of curses."

"Li Huowang?" At that very moment, Li Huowang remembered everything. After rapidly reviewing the recent events in his mind, he immediately understood it all.

The confusion on Li Huowang's face was swiftly replaced by a ferocious snarl, and he let out a roaring shout.

"I am no monk, nor am I any old man! I am Li Huowang! The Eighteenth Day of the Twelfth Lunar Month stole my name!!"

(End of Chapter)