Chapter 100: Yang Xiaohai

Chapter 100: Yang Xiaohai

Yang Xiaohai opened his eyes, still heavy with sleep, and as he noticed the faint light filtering through the paper window outside, he threw off his quilt and began to dress.

"Creak~" The door to the kitchen was pushed open; he walked over to the water vat and peered at the water inside. Feeling it wasn't enough, he grabbed a carrying pole, hoisted two empty wooden buckets, and headed out the door.

"Senior martial brothers and sisters will need to wash up when they wake, and then I still have to cook the porridge; this little bit of water simply won't do."

As a Taoist acolyte of the Clear Breeze Temple, though Yang Xiaohai was only ten years old, he was adept at cooking, washing clothes, and mending garments, and even knew a thing or two about the medicinal properties of some alchemy ingredients.

These skills were all forced out of him, and those that weren't forced out were already dead.

In that sunless, lightless Taoist temple, the only thing he had learned was that a person must be useful; a useless person is nothing but trash.

If his senior martial brothers and sisters decided they no longer wanted to carry dead weight, they would surely kick out the one still snoring in bed first.

Yang Xiaohai actually harbored a secret from everyone: the home address he had reported was fake; he had no home at all.

All he hoped for now was that this journey could go on forever, so he could always have food to eat.

He was different from the others; when he went to the Clear Breeze Temple, the other children had been sold or stolen away, but Yang Xiaohai had gone willingly, simply because the man had said one thing: that place would let him eat his fill.

Just as he stepped out of the courtyard gate, Yang Xiaohai bowed toward the woman practicing her sword in the distance, saying, "Good morning, Senior Sister."

But Chun Xiaoman had no time to spare for him at that moment; she was completely absorbed in studying the sword manual before her.

Yang Xiaohai was long accustomed to this; lately, this senior sister, whose body was covered in black hair, practiced her sword at all times except when eating or sleeping.

Accompanied by the damp morning mist, he walked alone along the deserted path.

"Could I ask Senior Sister to teach me swordplay too? If I learn it, even if I go back to being a beggar, no one would dare bully me."

"But would Senior Sister be willing? Senior Sister Xiaoman is usually so aloof."

Lost in thought, Yang Xiaohai arrived at the village pond and began drawing water.

Suddenly, a massive dark shadow surged out from the hazy morning mist in the distance, startling him.

But he wasn't afraid for long, for those shadows were people—a ragged group of beggars with faces smeared in soot, and he himself had once been one of them.

Seeing them shivering with runny noses, it was obvious they hadn't lit a fire when they slept last night.

In contrast to Yang Xiaohai's reaction, those beggars were also startled.

After confirming once again that it was a living person, the group of beggars pushed forward a little beggar.

This little beggar, who had only one ear, stood there woodenly, hesitating and dawdling.

Seeing that Yang Xiaohai was about to draw his water and leave, an old beggar walked over, shoved the little beggar face-first into the mud, and then bent his body as low as possible, wearing a fawning smile as he asked Yang Xiaohai, "Little child, let me ask you something, is this Wu Family Village?"

"There is no one here you are looking for; the place is completely empty, there is nothing left."

Yang Xiaohai would have been better off not speaking; the moment he said this, the other party grew even more agitated, his already red, bulbous nose turning an even deeper shade of crimson.

A trembling finger pointed shakily at everything around them. "So these houses and all the land around them have no owners anymore?!"

Yang Xiaohai didn't want to speak to the man who had kicked the little beggar, so he turned and left.

Returning to the kitchen, he poured the water from the buckets into the vat, wiped the sweat from his forehead, hoisted the carrying pole, and continued walking toward the gate.

A vat this large couldn't be filled in just one trip; it would take several.

When he came out again, he could see the beggars had broken into the empty houses around them, rummaging for something.

They certainly wouldn't find anything of value; the valuables had long been taken by those who left, and whatever was left behind had already been collected by himself and Senior Brother Gouwa.

But these beggars didn't care about any of that; even if they found a torn piece of clothing, they would be so thrilled they'd jump up and down.

On Yang Xiaohai's third trip out, he saw some of the beggars fighting, though he had no idea what they were fighting over.

"Don't stay here, this place is cursed, it's easy for things to go wrong!" Yang Xiaohai warned his former peers, but no one listened to him.

By the fourth trip, Yang Xiaohai was so exhausted his face had turned pale, yet he still forced himself into the courtyard; once inside, he set down the carrying pole, caught his breath, and waited quietly for something.

He waited until he heard footsteps from within, and Yang Xiaohai quickly hoisted the carrying pole again, hurrying inside.

He hadn't gone far before Yang Xiaohai, carrying his pole, ran into his fellow disciples. "Good morning, Senior Brother Cao Cao."

"Hey, hey, Xiaohai, you're drawing water again, you're so sensible; leave this kind of heavy lifting to the fool." Gouwa patted his head and walked outside.

"Senior Brother Cao Cao, the porridge is already boiling in the pot, breakfast will be ready soon," he shouted toward Gouwa's retreating back.

"Mm, mm, I'm going to wake the fool up."

As the sun rose and shone into the courtyard, everyone gathered in the main hall.

Breakfast was simple: plain white porridge, paired with pickled vegetables Gouwa had dug out from the village cellar, and their own dry rations, the guokui flatbread. But there was also meat, with two eggs in a small bowl.

At this moment, none of them had touched their chopsticks; they were all waiting quietly for something.

Just then, Xiaoman, who had been practicing her sword at the gate, happened to hurry in. Gouwa teased, "Junior Sister, you practice through the freezing winter and the scorching summer, how is it going? If you've learned it, teach your senior brother a few moves."

"It's alright, at least it's better than flailing around blindly; the escort master's master said there's no other trick to this stuff, you just have to practice; I've whittled two bamboo swords, after we eat, you can spar with me."

Gouwa's face instantly contorted like a bitter melon.

Xiaoman turned, hung her sword on the wall, and sat down at the table, waiting along with them.

Hearing the sound of footsteps and smelling the scent of blood permeating the air, Yang Xiaohai instinctively tensed up, hanging his head low, not daring to look over there even a fraction.

That was Senior Brother Li Huowang.

He knew Senior Brother Li would never harm him, and that he himself had been picked up by him, yet he was still afraid, especially after seeing what had happened along the way.

Supported by Bai Lingmiao, Li Huowang sat down in the seat of honor at the Eight Immortals table and began to eat his porridge; only after he started did the others begin.

Even Li Huowang himself hadn't noticed when this rule had come into being.

As they ate, the sound of swallowing saliva came from outside the courtyard; a few beggars were standing there, craning their necks and peering in with eager anticipation.

"Why are there still beggars? Isn't Wu Family Village empty?"

Hearing Li Huowang's question, Yang Xiaohai stood up and nervously recounted everything he knew.

"Heh, these people really are well-informed, knowing the place is empty, but they dare to rush in and live on the chopping block of the eighteenth day of the twelfth month, truly not afraid of bad luck; I'm full, take your time eating."

(End of Chapter)