The Lüshui Beggar

The peddler took down the feather duster and handed it to Li Banfeng. "If you want to buy this, I'll sell it to you for eight dollars." Li Banfeng was taken aback. "Eight dollars? That cheap?" The peddler nodded. "Just that cheap. Win some, lose some, and we're square. I'm a man who believes in fair trade; you should know what kind of goods eight dollars gets you." What did that mean? The peddler had made it plain: this was just an ordinary feather duster. An eight-dollar feather duster couldn't possibly possess spirituality, so why had Li Banfeng heard it talking? Picking up his rattle drum, the peddler said, "Some treasures may be fine, but every treasure comes with a cost." *Clang-clank, clang-clank.* The peddler went off to attend to other customers. Li Banfeng stood in a daze with his pile of odds and ends. Once Xiao Chuan and Xiao Genzi were safe and sound, everyone returned together to Lanyang Village. Sitting in his bedroom, Li Banfeng took out the Thread-Hook Earring and placed it on the table. Using his technique of Perceiving Spiritual Voices, he listened closely to the sound of the Thread-Hook Earring. She was crying, and had been crying for days. The reason for her weeping was simple: she hadn't gotten to eat that meal of Lu Dongliang. A treasure refined from a tier-one cultivator couldn't possess much intellect, yet who would have thought that after so many days, she would still be brooding over Lu Dongliang. *Earlier, had it really been the feather duster speaking, or had I heard something else?* Li Banfeng stared at the Thread-Hook Earring as repeated cries echoed by his ears once more: "Pity me, have pity on me..." The price of the Thread-Hook Earring was that he would hear sounds he shouldn't be hearing. Li Banfeng brought the Thread-Hook Earring back into the Portable Abode to let her calm down first. He gave all the vanishing cream, rouge, pressed powder, and pearl hairpins to his wife, slathering her until she smelled sweet and fragrant, and even tucked the pearl hairpin beside her horn. Full of tender affection, the gramophone whispered softly, "Thank you for your doting care, Husband. Your humble servant knows how good you are to me. It is just that your servant has a question, though I know not whether it is my place to ask." "Please speak, Wife." "Husband, can these things be eaten as a meal?" "Wife, could you not always be thinking about food?" "Hu ya ya! If I can't even get enough to eat, how am I supposed to be in the mood to powder my face and paint my lips for you?" ... At the entrance of Lanyang Village, a beggar covered in pustules held an alms bowl, begging along the road. "Pity me, give me a bite to eat..." The folkways of Lanyang Village were so "simple and honest" that they were never going to be too kind to beggars, especially given this beggar's appearance—the pustules covering his body obscured nearly all his skin, and green pus oozed from atop the sores. That pus actually ended up protecting the beggar. When he went to a noodle shop hoping to beg a bowl of food, the shopkeeper was about to kick him, but seeing the foul fluid all over him, pulled his foot back. Failing to get any food, the beggar moved slowly forward with his bowl, continuing to beg. "Pity me, have pity on me, give me a bite to eat." ... Critick, the Disease Cultivator, arrived at the middle of Lanyang Village. He looked up, gazing at the wooden cabin in the distance. Daboyins was gone; terrified of offending the Chu family any further, he hadn't dared linger in Lanyang Village. So Critick could only rely on himself to investigate Li Banfeng's whereabouts. "I wonder how my luck will be today. Could I find him directly in that little building?" The weather was freezing. Critick sneezed, sniffled, and was just about to head toward the wooden cabin when a strange odor drifted into his nostrils. "Pity me, give me a bite to eat." The beggar walked over. Having traversed half the village, he had not received a single bite of food. This was only to be expected. Any beggar who knew the roads would never come to Lanyang Village to beg. Lanyang Village had no habit of giving alms to beggars, let alone to one dripping with green pus—no one would come near him at all. Yet Critick desperately wanted to approach him. He was entranced by the pus coating the beggar. *How delicious!* *How could there be such delicious pus?* That rich, aromatic scent sent a surge of excitement through Critick in an instant. The beggar was begging food from Xiao Chuan. Having been initiated as a Craft Cultivator today, Xiao Chuan was in exceptionally high spirits. Just moments ago, Ma the Fifth had even taught him a few characters. Today, Xiao Chuan found everyone pleasant to look at, and even looking at this beggar felt remarkably heartwarming. He took two eggs and placed them into the beggar's bowl. The beggar blinked, then nodded repeatedly. "Thank you. Thank you." Holding his bowl, he took another couple of steps just as Li Banfeng walked out of the wooden cabin. Unsure if he was hallucinating, Li Banfeng couldn't shake the feeling that this beggar's voice sounded identical to the voice coming through the Thread-Hook Earring. He took two steamed buns and stuffed them into the beggar's bowl. "Thank you," the beggar offered a strained word of thanks, his expression none too pleased. Li Banfeng didn't linger either; he turned and departed Lanyang Village. *Is this beggar after me?* Li Banfeng sensed this beggar's background was anything but ordinary. According to his perception of seeking good fortune and avoiding calamity, giving him food had been the right thing to do, but he needed to keep his distance as much as possible. Holding his bowl, a chill crept into the beggar's eyes. *To actually receive alms twice in Lanyang Village?* *Today was truly bizarre.* He had to hurry across the village. If he received alms just one more time, he would have to go back. The beggar looked for a path with fewer people, when he suddenly sensed something wrong with his body. The pus on his sores was gone. All the pustules were vanishing at a visible rate. *Who?* *Who did this?* The beggar looked toward Critick. "You ate my sores?" Critick was startled; he hadn't expected the other man to see through his technique. Seeing through it didn't matter though. Critick smiled and said, "I cured your illness; you should thank me. Your disease is truly delicious." "Delicious? You're a Disease Cultivator?" The beggar stared fixedly at Critick. Critick stopped smiling. In the entire Puluo Province, very few people knew of his pathway. How could this beggar be so knowledgeable? Critick decided to kill him. The beggar looked at Critick and asked, "You ate my pus, so how will you repay me?" Critick prepared to strike at once. "I cured your illness. Aren't you pleased?" The beggar shook his head. "If even such green pus has been eaten by you, will the waters of Lüshuiwan still be green?" Critick shuddered and instantly lowered his head. Only now did he realize that it was impossible for him to kill the person before him. He shouldn't even look this person in the eye. "Y-you... you are..." The beggar smiled. "Now you know who I am?" "Y-you are... the master of Lüshuiwan." "And what else?" The green pus churned inside Critick's body, and Critick sensed the other party's other identity. "Y-you are... the ancestor of my... my pathway..." Critick backed away step by step, then fell to his knees with a thud, his forehead touching the ground as he begged for the beggar's forgiveness. "Great Ancestor, I had no disrespectful intentions! Though my actions were disrespectful, it was done without knowing Your Eminence's identity. I beg your forgiveness, I beg..." Critick trembled all over as multicolored blisters erupted continuously across his body, bursting incessantly, covering him in green fluid. Pedestrians passed nearby, but at this moment they could see neither Critick nor the beggar. Critick and the beggar were still in Lanyang Village, but under the beggar's influence, they had already moved beyond the perceptual reach of normal people. "I thought the cultivators of our pathway had gone extinct. Who would have thought there was still you?" The beggar sneered. "I ought to have made you stay behind to be buried with them, but seeing that your talent is decent, I'll spare your life. Be off, get far away—the farther, the better." Stumbling to his feet, Critick took to his heels and fled. With pus streaming down his body, he sucked at his own skin continuously, not letting a single drop fall to the ground. Falling to the ground would be sacrilege—a desecration against the Ancestor of his pathway. The beggar continued walking toward the south end of the village, choosing a route with few people this time. As long as he reached the end of the village without anyone else giving him alms, Lanyang Village would suffer a horrifying plague. And that plague would spread across all of Lüshuiwan. Under normal circumstances, no one in Lanyang Village would give alms to a beggar. The beggar's estimation had been correct: right up until he reached the border of the newland, not a single person gave him so much as a grain of rice or a copper coin. The beggar silently gazed back at the village, a slight smile appearing on his face. Pustules erupted across his body one after another, their tips speckled with green pus. He saw quite a few youths heading into the newland to hunt and decided to start with them. The beggar's figure vanished from people's sight once more without anyone noticing. Even if someone wished to give him alms now, he would no longer give them the chance. The pustules on his body burst one by one, and just as the green pus was about to diffuse into the air, a gust of cold wind blew in and dispersed it all. *Who?* *This was Lüshuiwan!* *Who could disperse his arts?* The beggar glared viciously around him, but the ferocity in his eyes suddenly diminished considerably. He had not seen the other party, but he heard his sound. *Clang-clank, clang-clank!* The beggar shuddered. *Why is he still nearby?* *Didn't he leave?* *Even if he's here, I'm not afraid. I'm acting according to the rules.* "A cart of fine goods from an old trusted sign, slash the price when costs are covered, take your pick! Do you want to buy something?" The peddler's voice rang right beside the beggar's ear. Though prepared, the beggar still shivered and replied, "Nothing I want to buy today." "If you don't want to buy anything, go on home. What are you loitering outside for?" The beggar responded, "According to the rules, I can come out once a year." "Nobody said you can't come out. But according to the rules, once three people have given you alms, you must leave." The beggar argued, "Only two people gave me alms. Two eggs, a couple of steamed buns—they're all right here." "Three people. I saw it all. Someone cured your illness." The beggar kept arguing, "That doesn't count as alms." "It counts. Curing your illness doesn't count as charity?" "He gave me nothing, and I received nothing from him. It can't count." "I say it counts." "It can't count." "I say it can." "It can't—" "Don't fucking refuse the face you're given." The peddler's tone changed. The beggar argued no more. His figure vanished soundlessly, as if he had never set foot in Lanyang Village. Aside from what Critick had sucked away, not a single drop of pus remained. Standing in the wilderness, the peddler leaned back against his pushcart and sank into deep thought. Why had the Lüshui Beggar come to beg in Lanyang Village? Knowing full well that no one in Lanyang Village would give him alms, did he intentionally want calamity to befall Lüshuiwan? Lüshuiwan was his territory. What did he stand to gain from doing this? Did he want to destroy his own home? The Inner States. Presumably the Inner States had given him some kind of promise. The other party had offered no small price if it could make the Lüshui Beggar willing to abandon his own domain. Of course, one couldn't jump to conclusions; it could also be the Outer States. The Lüshui Beggar might not be the only one to receive such promises. Who else could there be? Pushing his cart, the peddler made his way toward the depths of the wilderness. ... Li Banfeng returned from Lüshui City and went straight to the former site of the Song family manor. The original compound had been flattened by Li Banfeng with a steamroller, and there certainly wasn't enough time to construct a new manor. Fortunately, there were plenty of able-bodied men in Lanyang Village; as long as money was paid, plenty of people were willing to put in the labor. While a manor couldn't be built, wooden cabins had gone up, row after row from front to back. In the dead center of the front row, the most spacious wooden building was a dance hall. On either side of the dance hall were taverns. Beside the taverns were restaurants. Beside the restaurants was Ma the Fifth's large warehouse for storing inventory. The spending sequence for a hunter returning from the newland went like this: First, unload goods at Ma the Fifth's place, which left his pockets heavy with cash. With money in hand, he naturally needed a hearty meal, and the restaurant was right next door. Over the meal, people would gather and chat, recounting life-and-death ventures in the newland. A meal alone wouldn't satisfy, so having a few drinks at the tavern was inevitable. After a few drinks, as the alcohol kicked in, shooting the breeze with friends was no longer enough—one could move to another spot to blow off a different kind of steam. And the dance hall was right next to the tavern. What if someone wasn't used to Western novelties and wanted something traditional? There was traditional entertainment too. Ma the Fifth had relocated the Jiqing Troupe behind the dance hall. The troupe master of the Jiqing Troupe had initially refused, but then Li Banfeng visited every day to "lecture," teaching the girls how to sing. After five days in a row, the master stopped refusing Ma the Fifth's kind offer and moved over. Hunters indulged in every pleasure here. Once they were done dancing and had listened their fill of songs, the rows of wooden cabins behind were all inns, with plenty of room for activities. Ma the Fifth had named this place Mengchun Garden. Any hunter venturing into the newland who entered Mengchun Garden with money would surely be parted with every last cent. Even if a single Huan Country note remained in his pocket, a girl would bestow a parting kiss, making him willingly hand over that last dollar! A gentleman loves wealth but acquires it properly—in Mengchun Garden, every single cent spent was entirely of one's own free will! The dance hall was completely arranged, but it still lacked one thing. Li Banfeng had gone to Lüshui City precisely for this item. At the Miaosheng Gramophone Shop, he had bought back the windmill gramophone. Xiao Chuan led the others in setting up the gramophone. The dance hall's back window faced directly into the wind; the windmill began to spin, and the gramophone turned with it. Li Banfeng placed a record on it. This record was very special: to celebrate Ma the Fifth's business opening, Ling Miaosheng had specially commissioned Song Queen Jiang Mengting to record a song. Jiang Mengting's singing voice was incomparably sweet, the melody playful and lively, and the rhythm brisk. After listening for just a moment, the crowd couldn't help dancing along to the song. "Mengchun Garden, Mengchun Garden, a city that never sleeps! The brilliant lamps are lit, the music plays, singing and dancing in peace and revelry!" Laughter and joy filled the dance hall, while from the Liu Family Paper Horse Shop arrived the very first congratulatory gift. A paper figure walked soundlessly into Lanyang Village. P.S. Lüshuiwan was not originally called Lüshuiwan.