Seeing the ruthless look that clouded Li Chijing's still-tender face, Ye Chengfu paused amid the crowd. Holding his torch high, he stroked his chin and mused to himself,
"I'm afraid this fourth son won't be an easy customer to deal with either. The gentle stag leading them is dead, and of the three vicious wolves left behind, the older ones are cunning while the youngest is ferocious. In less than ten years, Lijing Village will answer to no one but the Li family!"
The crowd fell silent for a few breaths before someone answered in a low voice:
"Changhu was killed by refugees!"
Li Xiangping held back his tears as he knelt by Li Changhu's side. Turning toward Tian Shoushui, he choked out, "Uncle Tian, what happened here?"
"Most likely a remnant of the Yuan family."
Li Mutian forced the words through gritted teeth. Looking at Tian Shoushui, who hung his head in silent shame, he glanced at the surrounding villagers and called out, "Li Tongya!"
Hearing his name, Li Tongya wiped away his tears and stepped forward, cupping his hands to the villagers as he raised his voice: "We have disturbed everyone tonight. Please return home; there is no need to linger here any longer."
With that, he bowed to help Liu Linfeng up, whispering in his ear, "Uncle, please take men to keep those refugees under control first, lest someone stirs up trouble in the chaos. We will join you shortly."
"Right, of course..."
Kneeling before Li Mutian had already made Liu Linfeng cower as if needles pricked his back. Hearing this, he felt as though granted an imperial pardon. Nodding repeatedly, he led his men away.
Tian Shoushui and Ren Ping'an carried Li Changhu from the ground into the Li family's rear courtyard. Just as they set him down, a burst of weeping arose from the main courtyard. Lady Ren had fainted upon hearing the terrible news; Tian Yun and Lady Liu held back their tears—one caring for her while the other hurried to fetch a physician.
"Eldest Brother..."
Putting Li Changhu down, Tian Shoushui's eyes welled with tears. Just as he was about to speak, Li Mutian waved a tired hand.
"Ping'an, go check on Lady Ren. Shoushui, go watch over the refugees with Liu Linfeng for now. Without a word from our Li family, his hands will be tied."
"Understood."
Tian Shoushui blinked in a daze, wiped away his tears, and stepped back. Ren Ping'an also gave a blank nod, heading off to tend to Ren Ping'er.
With no outsiders left in the rear courtyard, only the Li brothers remained, weeping in hushed sobs.
Unable to restrain himself any longer, Li Mutian sat beside his eldest son like a wounded, solitary wolf and let out a low wail:
"Changhu, oh, my Changhu—"
The brothers all broke down into tears. Li Tongya and Li Xiangping retained some measure of restraint, but Li Chijing was young and wept inconsolably, crying his heart out.
***
In the dead of night, while Lijing Village was plunged into turmoil, Old Man Xu made his way alone toward the back mountain, leaning on a hoe. He twisted and turned along the narrow path through overgrown weeds until a continuous stretch of graves appeared before his eyes.
Old Man Xu stopped and looked closely. Sure enough, a youth in ragged clothes with beast hides wrapped around his waist sat leisurely beside a small headstone in the corner, legs sprawled wide as he muttered to himself.
His ears twitching, the youth sharply looked up. Seeing that the newcomer was merely a simple-looking old farmer who appeared too frail to even walk properly, he actually clapped his hands, tilted his head with a grin, and called out, "Old man, where are you coming from?"
Old Man Xu did not answer. He deliberately walked at a crawl, tottering forward until he reached the grave. Casting a feigned wary glance at the youth, he dropped to his knees beside the tomb and hugged the headstone, weeping and lamenting under his breath.
Listening closely, the youth vaguely caught words like "the great vengeance is avenged" and "may the masters rest in peace." His heart stirred at once.
His family had been destroyed and his kin slaughtered when he was a child, forcing him to wander in exile. He had spent the first half of his life as a tenant farmer, clutching this dagger night after night to practice relentlessly, with only one wish: that one day he would cut off Li Mutian's head with his own hands to sacrifice before his parents' spirits.
Now that his vengeance was partially wrought, he felt utter exhilaration. He had ten thousand words welling up inside him, yet no one by his side to share in his triumph and delight. Why not chat with this old man, and then silence him with a quick strike before leaving? Wouldn't that be the best of both worlds?
With this thought, the youth smiled and asked, "You came weeping before the graves of the Yuan family—aren't you afraid the Li family will give you trouble?"
"This old man hasn't long to live..."
Old Man Xu replied through his tears. He stole a glance at the youth, only to recoil in shock. Throwing himself prostrate onto the ground, he cried out, "Young Master!"
"Hm?"
Taken aback, the youth thought to himself, *Could this old man have seen me at the entrance to the village? Better to just kill him and flee to save trouble.*
Old Man Xu, however, wiped his tears and spoke again: "The mistress used to carry the young master to sit by the fields, so I remember you. This old man still remembers the three black moles on your foot, which can prove it!"
Old Man Xu had lived for over seventy years and was sly as a fox. He completely reversed cause and effect, catching the youth off guard and dispelling his murderous intent. The youth froze for a moment, then hurriedly asked, "Then do you remember my mother's appearance?"
"Of course I do."
Old Man Xu picked up a twig from a haystack, loosened the earth with his hoe, and began sketching meticulously in the soil.
The youth grew intensely agitated, yet he continued to glance down grimly at Old Man Xu. Conflicting thoughts darted through his mind: one moment he thought to kill him and be done with it, the next he thought to kidnap him to learn more about his mother.
Before long, Old Man Xu finished the drawing and stood up. Though a mere farmer, he had painted door gods and auspicious talismans for the villagers year after year. Over time, he had acquired a knack for painting; with just a few strokes, he had captured the subject's spirit and likeness vividly.
"Mother!"
The youth turned and dropped to his knees. Seeing the facial features that had faintly appeared in his dreams, he broke into muffled sobs. Twenty-two years of grievances and stifled anguish surged to the surface, and tears streamed down his face like a fountain.
Old Man Xu stood to the side, sighing sorrowfully and going on and on about the mistress's virtues, driving the youth even deeper into his tears.
"This old man still remembers the master's face as well. Let me draw him for you."
Hearing Old Man Xu's words, the youth believed him eighty percent. Wiping away his tears, he gave his consent without even looking up.
Old Man Xu raised his hoe to loosen the soil for the portrait, a ruthless glint flashing in his eyes. The hoe was lifted high; its bright silver blade gave a faint shimmer under the moonlight before crashing down with explosive force—straight toward the youth's neck!
The youth had trekked all day with the refugees, expended all his might to assassinate Li Changhu, and then fled through the reed marshes to shake off Tian Shoushui; he was already thoroughly exhausted. Now, overwhelmed by extreme joy and sorrow, his legs had gone limp, and with his guard completely down, he had neither the will nor the ability to dodge. Old Man Xu struck him dead-on.
Having farmed for decades, Old Man Xu was still hale and hearty. The strike landed with a sickening thud, shattering bone and tearing sinew. The youth pitched forward onto the ground, head twisted askew, eyes rolling back, limbs convulsing violently as white froth spewed from his lips.
Taking advantage of his fall, the old man brought the hoe down squarely on the youth's head a second time, snuffing out his breath for good.
Still uneasy, Old Man Xu struck wildly another dozen times until flesh and gore splattered everywhere, red and white fluids spilling across the ground. Turning the youth over, he saw that not a breath remained; the corpse's face still bore a lingering look of sorrow.
Only then did his strength completely leave him. Collapsing onto the ground, he buried his face in his withered hands and wailed in agony:
"An ill-fated bond! What an ill-fated bond!..."
Chapter 17