Chapter 4: Begging for Mercy

The ninth day of the seventh month, in the two hundred and thirty-fifth year of the Demon Qing Imperial Calendar.

Li Chang’an was now two years and six months old, his height already approaching nearly a meter.

Just as he fancied that this simple existence of eating, sleeping, and cultivating might endure a while longer, the morning serenity of Li Family Village was abruptly shattered by a sudden tumult, as several clerks clad in black robes barged into the settlement as if they owned it.

The black-clad official leading the pack bore a sinister visage, his gaze gleaming with ferocious cruelty.

In his grip he carried a somewhat battered brass gong, striking it rhythmically as he bellowed, "To ensure favorable wind and rain for our county, the new magistrate in his profound benevolence has decreed a grand sacrificial ceremony on the fifteenth of the seventh month to appease the River God!"

"Master Liu, the clerk of records, has handed down the directive: every household flanking both banks of the Sanhuang River must contribute one tael of silver, one chicken, and one duck! Those lacking the coin or fowl must surrender goods of equal worth instead!"

At the sound of the clanging gongs and the boisterous shouts of the officials, the entirety of Li Family Village was struck as if by a bolt from the blue.

This so-called River God was, in truth, nothing more than a malevolent flood dragon upstream of Sanhuang County that had attained spiritual sentience.

Harnessing its nature to command the torrents, the vicious beast frequently stirred up tempests during the rainy seasons, plundering the downstream counties virtually at its whim.

Yet, far from dispatching armies to exterminate the creature, the imperial court seized the opportunity to fleece the populace of their hard-earned wealth.

It was now the beginning of the seventh month, a lean period when the paddy crops in the fields had yet to ripen fully; for the new magistrate to hypocritically ordain a ritual at such a desperate hour showed a ravenous greed utterly devoid of any shame or decorum.

A tense silence descended for a moment.

Then, a few desperate villagers, cowering behind their courtyard gates, summoned their courage and hissed in fury, "Magistrate Chai just performed the sacrifices to the River God on the sixth of the sixth month, not even a month ago! Now Magistrate Su demands another? If you masters are so enamored with sacrifices, why not just hurl us wretched farmers straight into the river?!"

Upon hearing the vitriol echoing from behind the gates,

The leading black-clad official sneered. He suddenly lunged forward with explosive force, kicking a courtyard door off its hinges before seizing an old villager behind it by the throat, a cruel, mirthless smile playing across his lips. "The magistrate orchestrates these rituals for your own benefit. Don't be so ungrateful when mercy is shown to you!"

The dark-skinned old man struggled with all his might, yet the withered, slender fingers of the official clamped down upon him like bands of forged steel.

They did not budge in the slightest; instead, they slowly and inexorably constricted.

The old man’s thrashing soon grew feeble, and his head gradually slumped to the side.

The official carelessly cast the soiled, lifeless corpse nearly thirty feet away, shaking his hands in disgust as he muttered, "Every single visit requires me to slaughter a chicken to warn the monkeys before you wretches learn compliance. What a pack of ungrateful, obstinate peasants."

With that, he licked his lips, his ferocious eyes sweeping across the tightly shut doors of the surrounding homes as he offered a sinister grin. "Do not blame me, Han the Eighth, for being cold-hearted. You lot make sure to toss this rogue's corpse into the river later, so as to grant him his dying wish!"

Though many of the villagers cowering inside had initially burned with resentment, the sight of the old man's wretched end instantly deflated their rising fury like a punctured bladder, leaving them utterly demoralized.

This Han the Eighth was notorious for his unbridled savagery.

In his youth, he had tyrannized the countryside using body-tempering and qi-refining techniques learned during his military service; now, he had hitched his wagon to the magistrate's office, transforming into a loyal hound for the officials, wielding absolute power in both the upper and underworlds.

Before such a snarling, vicious beast, the villagers possessed no power to resist; they could only sit paralyzed within their homes, awaiting the descent of their grim, predetermined fate.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Listening to the approaching, life-demanding thuds upon the doors, the faces of both Li Dashan and Huang Xiaoru turned deathly pale.

Though their household managed to possess a modest reserve, it consisted entirely of provisions Li Dashan had desperately hoarded to sustain his wife and son; if stripped of it, the family would scarcely survive the coming months.

With no time left for hesitation, Li Dashan turned and scooped up Li Chang'an from where he was playing in the courtyard, thrusting him deep into a battered vat as he whispered a frantic injunction, "Chang'an, you must hide yourself well! No matter what happens out there, you must not come out! Do you understand?!"

Li Chang’an merely blinked without a word, yet the profound awareness and intellect shining in his eyes allowed Li Dashan to exhale a heavy sigh of relief.

His boy had always possessed an uncanny wit; there was no need to fear that he would falter at the critical juncture.

Stroking the child’s dark, silken hair, Li Dashan carefully placed a heavy stone atop the wooden lid of the broken vat before finally rising to depart.

Watching his departure, a faint, amused expression flickered across Li Chang’an’s tender features; he had originally anticipated that he would not encounter a critical nexus of fate until he reached his third year a few months hence.

He had not expected the chronology provided by the Mark of Reincarnation to be slightly imprecise; he was a mere two and a half years old, yet the newly appointed magistrate was already dispatching his lackeys to pillage the countryside for wealth and provisions.

Had he not secured a sufficiently formidable power beforehand, being caught unawares like this would have meant that safeguarding his own life—let alone rewriting his destiny—would be an insurmountable task.

After a moment's reflection, Li Chang’an shifted his tiny frame, peering out toward the front gate through a narrow crevice in the shattered vat.

He watched as Li Dashan lingered in the courtyard for a good while, delaying until the thumping outside grew increasingly violent and wrathful before finally, with deep reluctance, unbarring the gate.

A succession of menacing officials filed inside, with Han the Eighth bringing up the rear in a deliberate, leisurely stride.

Clad in his black official robe, his features steeped in cruelty and arrogance, he scanned the perimeter of the courtyard; finding nothing of interest, he let out a harsh snort. Glancing at the obsequious and fawning Li Dashan, he gave a mirthless grin and said, "Li Dashan, it has been but a few days since we last met, yet your courage seems to have grown considerably. One chicken, one duck, and one tael of silver—where are they?"

Upon hearing this, Li Dashan dropped to his knees instantly, prostrating himself upon the earth as he trembled. "Master Han, the yamen has yet to disburse my wages for constructing the magistrate's residence these past weeks! My wife is on the very brink of starvation; how could a wretched peasant like me possibly produce such treasures?!"

Han the Eighth sneered, instantly leveling a grave accusation without permitting any defense. "This is an endeavor ordained by the magistrate himself—a privilege countless others would beg for in vain! How dare you prattle on so? Do you mean to suggest that His Honor would stiff you of your meager wages?"

Li Dashan shuddered violently, a torrent of fury surging within his breast, yet he could only swallow his broken teeth and force a strained smile. "His Honor loves the populace as his own children; he would naturally never withhold a peasant's hard-earned blood-money!"

Only then did Han the Eighth nod in satisfaction, continuing, "One matter at a time. First, hand over the silver and meat for the River God's ritual, and I shall put in a good word for you before the magistrate later. Your wages will naturally be settled then!"

From his hiding place, Li Chang’an witnessed everything, a spark of fury kindling quietly within his chest.

The wretched scoundrel was certainly practiced in his deceit, securing the immediate coin first; as for his promise to 'put in a word,' only a fool would believe it.

The magistrate might indeed have authorized the payment of Li Dashan’s wages.

But into whose pockets that coin would ultimately vanish remained a very grave question.

It was clear that Li Dashan recognized the ruse as well; drawing a deep breath, he steeled his resolve and stiffened his neck, saying, "Master Han, my home truly possesses nothing else to offer. These few hundred copper coins are all I have left. If you do not disdain them, please accept them as a humble tribute to buy yourself some wine!"

Staring down at the prostrate Li Dashan, the ferocity in Han the Eighth’s eyes flared as he viciously lashed out with his boot, sending the man flying several yards backward. "Heh! A handful of wretched coppers as a tribute to me? You ungrateful piece of filth, do I, Han the Eighth, look like a common beggar to you?"

With that, he paced around the courtyard on his own. After a long moment, his gaze suddenly alighted upon Huang Xiaoru, who was peeking anxiously from the doorway, and he remarked with cruel intrigue, "This woman is rather easy on the eyes. Selling her off to a brothel would surely fetch a handsome price!"

He paused, as if struck by a sudden recollection, and added with a sinister sneer, "Oh, that reminds me. I heard you happen to have a son as well?"

As his eyes darted rapidly about, scanning the courtyard as if searching for something,

Li Dashan finally dissolved into utter panic. Scrambling to pull a handful of silver shards from his pouch, he held them aloft with both hands, weeping as he begged, "Master Eighth, Master Eighth! The silver is yours! Please, spare us!"

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