Liang Qu could see that the old earthen hut was still there, tucked inside the framework of the main house like a room within a room.
He didn't care much either way. There was nothing valuable inside—just a straw pallet and a few sets of coarse hemp clothes.
The only thing of any worth was perhaps the pair of treasure fish horns stashed beneath the rice vat that could be used as medicinal ingredients. Once he stepped inside and fetched them, the craftsmen could tear the whole thing down.
What he hadn't expected was the villagers sending over sacks of rice and flour. He didn't even know what to do with them, given that he never cooked at home.
"Well, Master Liang, take a look! I'm expanding it into a two-entry courtyard compound, with two side wings flanking the main hall.
"Across that crossroads, on the two open plots before the main hall, I don't plan on laying stone pavers. I'll leave them as packed earth and plant two trees there.
"Folks usually go with jujube trees, or ginkgoes, persimmons, pomegranates—they all carry good fortune, and they'll give you plenty of shade in the summer. But of course, whatever goes in is entirely up to you, Master Liang."
"Uncle Fu, please don't call me Master Liang! You're an elder to me—how could you address me like that? Just call me Ah Shui, the way you always have."
Liang Qu recognized the head craftsman before him. His name was Liu Quanfu, a man in his fifties whose woodworking skills were second to none. He was quite a renowned figure in town, having built the compounds of several village elders.
How could he let a senior of that stature address him as "master"? It felt completely wrong.
It went to show just how deep an impact the River God Sacrifice had left on the villagers.
When he had first been taken in as a disciple, what they felt was mostly admiration. Now, it had turned into sheer awe and reverence. Even some of the elderly folks no longer dared use his childhood moniker lightly.
Naturally, Liu Quanfu demurred at first. But at Liang Qu's insistence, he had no choice but to yield and reluctantly switch back to the familiar name.
Liang Qu walked into his old house, retrieved the treasure fish horns from beneath the rice vat, and left the rice, flour, and other miscellaneous odds and ends in the vat. He planned to store them at Uncle Chen's house for the time being so the artisans could tear the earthen hut down straight away.
Having been alerted by someone, Chen Zhao'an also hurried over.
Liang Qu leapt down from the roof and greeted him with a bow. "Elder Chen."
"How does the courtyard look to you?"
"It's being built far too well—I truly don't deserve this. It must take months to finish, doesn't it?"
"Ah, you saved everyone's lives and even hired martial masters to come protect us! What's a few days of putting aside chores to build a house? In a couple of days, even my grandsons will come pitch in!
"Also, I heard you were back, so I rushed over to bring you the silver we promised to pool for you earlier. Tongmin!"
Chen Tongmin, who had accompanied Chen Zhao'an, produced a hefty coin pouch, but Liang Qu immediately pressed down on his forearm.
Chen Tongmin instinctively pulled against the hold, yet Liang Qu's grip didn't budge in the slightest. Instead, Chen Tongmin stumbled a step backward.
"Elder Chen, I never asked for everyone to build me such a grand compound. The timber and stone pavers alone must have cost a fortune. Who paid for all this?"
"We village elders each chipped in a portion. On top of that, Master Xue in town and Lin Di from the fishing yard sent over a lot of materials once they heard about it."
Liang Qu fell silent for a moment before nodding. "In that case, don't give me this silver for now. Keep it to pay everyone their wages. Provide two meals a day, and they must be dry-cooked rice, not watery porridge. Use the rice and flour the villagers donated first. On top of that, pay ten coins a day per man—fifteen for anyone with elderly parents at home.
"It's not much, just a token of my appreciation. Once the compound is finished, if there's anything left, you can return it to me."
A few men hauling lumber nearby couldn't help gulping hard at those words!
Real rice to eat?
Since Liang Qu was speaking with the village elder, they naturally dared not butt in, but their hearts surged with eager anticipation.
Chen Tongmin stepped closer and lowered his voice. "You can't do that. If you pay daily wages, there's no telling if they'll slack off and loaf around on the job."
Liang Qu smiled. "Then wouldn't I have to trouble Brother Tongmin to help me keep an eye on them?"
"Ah, well..."
Chen Zhao'an was only too happy to see his grandson interact more with Liang Qu and urged, "If Ah Shui insists, then you help out, Tongmin! It's deep winter anyway—what else do you have to do?"
Chen Tongmin had no choice but to agree.
At present, Liang Qu occupied an extraordinary standing in Yixing, one that truly placed him on equal footing with the village elders—a sight exceptionally rare across a radius of a thousand li. Before the River God Sacrifice, Liang Qu had stood above the common villagers, yet he was still subordinate to the elders.
It had nothing to do with status, title, or strength. It came down to a single principle: moral authority.
The elderly, especially those endowed with means and standing, naturally held the moral high ground.
Every year, the ruler of the realm would personally visit the academy to host banquets for the Three Venerables and the Five Elders, carving the meat with his own hands and dipping it in sauce before serving it to the elders to display his respect.
Unless Liang Qu grew powerful enough to overturn the entire Dashun Dynasty, or chose to live as a savage, he had no choice but to operate within the established societal framework.
This code of conduct brought both advantages and drawbacks.
The advantages were obvious: his acceptance as a direct disciple was living proof, and his gear—allowing him to fight far above his level—was entirely the fruit of navigating that very system.
The drawbacks were equally clear. If the village elders ever wished to suppress someone, all they needed to do was casually accuse them of moral shortcomings, and the deed was done.
Yet after the River God Sacrifice, Liang Qu—as the savior of every single life in the village—had suddenly ascended to the highest moral ground himself!
If the elders ever wanted to frame him without cause, they would have to weigh carefully who truly held the upper hand!
It felt thoroughly invigorating!
Doing good deeds truly had its perks.
If nothing else, should mountain bandits ever come raiding in the future, Liang Qu would only need to raise his voice, and the villagers would answer his call without hesitation.
Or take today: even without a single copper in wages, plenty of people had eagerly scrambled to help him build his house.
After a brief tour of the construction site, Liang Qu took his leave amid everyone's effusive compliments and rowed his boat back toward Pingyang Town.
Having been gone for two shichen, he wondered if his two senior brothers had uncovered any additional leads.
He needed to hurry back and make up the numbers. Who knew—perhaps just like during Searching the Mountains and Subduing Demons, he might walk away with a tremendous harvest while barely lifting a finger.
***
The Zhao residence.
"Envoy, this is bad! A disaster has struck! My mountain ghost breeding nest in Pingyang Town has been rooted out! What are we going to do?!"
Squire Zhao—a man whose outward glamour seemed boundless and who was rumored around town to favor handsome young men—barged into the room, tumbling and crawling across the floor before latching onto the leg of a man standing inside.
Zhao Hongyuan was over sixty years old, yet his frame was so remarkably rotund that not a wrinkle showed on his face, which looked as rosy and smooth as an infant's. At that moment, he was wailing uncontrollably to a man dressed in black robes.
"What are you doing?! Watch your snot! Your snot!" Huang Zejun recoiled in disgust, kicking Zhao Hongyuan away. "What nest got wiped out? Speak clearly! You're over sixty years old—can't you show a shred of composure?!"
Sobbing and sniffling, Zhao Hongyuan recounted in broken sentences how the disciples of the Yang Family Martial Hall had assaulted Fahua Temple and slaughtered more than a hundred mountain ghosts.
Huang Zejun stood dumbfounded. "We were right on the verge of reaping the harvest, and you pull a stunt like this on me?!"
"I never expected it either!" Zhao Hongyuan wore a look of desperate panic. "That's why I came running to you, Envoy! Why don't we begin ahead of schedule?"
Infected by Zhao Hongyuan's agitation, Huang Zejun grew equally flustered.
"This goes against our original timeline!"
"The longer we stall, the more nests they'll unearth! When the time comes, will we still be able to gather enough embryos to refine the pill?!"
Huang Zejun's mind raced with anxiety. Spurred on by Zhao Hongyuan's relentless instigation, his nerves frayed, and in a daze, he inexplicably found himself nodding in agreement.
Zhao Hongyuan felt a surge of secret delight, though his face remained streaked with tears. "It is all my fault for not covering my tracks properly and causing such a catastrophe, jeopardizing the cult's grand endeavor!"
"What's done is done. Laying blame now won't fix anything. You've toiled on the cult's behalf for so many years; even if you have no merit, your labor counts for something. At least the groundwork is already laid. Starting two days early shouldn't disrupt things too much."
"There's no longer any place for this battered old carcass of mine to be of use. With you presiding over the matter, Envoy, everything is sure to go without a hitch. I yearn with all my heart to gaze upon the divine countenance of the Venerable Mother and serve Her day and night. Would it be possible for me to..."
"Very well. I know your devotion. I will arrange a boat shortly so that you may return to our sacred fold without delay."
Chapter 82