Messengers of God

Pan Dehai materialized midair, delivering hundreds of jin of prepared medicinal herbs to Li Banfeng. With so many herbs, how was he supposed to brew them all? Pan Dehai had considered this thoughtfully enough, sending Li Banfeng an enormous iron cauldron as vast as a farmhouse. Firewood was stacked beneath the cauldron, and clear water was poured inside. Pan Dehai fixed his gaze on Li Banfeng, gesturing to ask what else he needed. He refused to speak, worried that opening his mouth would infect him with Lü Huazi's pus-filled sores. Could a departed spirit even fear catching a disease? Yet on second thought, it made sense. Pan Dehai possessed flesh and blood—very peculiar flesh and blood, enough to feed Li Banfeng's entire household for a long time. Having flesh and blood proved he was no ordinary spirit. As for where that flesh and blood came from, Li Banfeng couldn't figure it out either. Were all local spirits departed souls with flesh and blood? After pondering for a moment, Li Banfeng turned to Critick. "What else do you need?" Confronted by so many things suddenly appearing out of thin air, Critick was terrified. He knew Li Banfeng was dealing with a high-tier figure, yet he couldn't perceive the entity's presence at all. Critick dared not look directly, yet seeing Li Banfeng's utterly irreverent attitude only made him think this man was insane beyond reason. Li Banfeng urged him, "I'm asking you. What else do you need?" Critick replied cautiously, "When I unleash my technique, I become extremely vulnerable. I need someone to look after me and protect me." He needed protection. Li Banfeng glanced up at Pan Dehai hovering midair, hoping he might step forward voluntarily. After all, this was his territory, and protecting Critick ought to be his responsibility. Leaning on his walking stick, Pan Dehai departed swiftly into the night, trailing layers of mist like billowing smoke and dust behind him. Li Banfeng let out a soft sigh, splashed some liquor over the firewood, lit the blaze, and emptied basket after basket of prepared herbs into the cauldron. Critick came over to help as well. Looking at his body covered in sores, Li Banfeng felt itchy all over. The wind blew fiercely tonight. Once the water boiled, the medicinal aroma drifted in all directions, drawing mosquitoes from dozens of li around. Dense swarms of mosquitoes enveloped the two men. Less than five meters apart, they couldn't even see each other's silhouettes. Critick glanced up, then shook his head. "Still not enough. We might have to change locations tomorrow." "Let's try it first." Critick sat silently beside the cauldron. Pus began oozing rapidly from his body until his entire form was coated in a layer of green discharge, making him look like a statue carved from green colored glaze. He hadn't lied; at this moment he was extraordinarily frail. Li Banfeng could have killed him without breaking a sweat. The mosquitoes hovered relentlessly near the cauldron. A vast majority died, while a small fraction survived, but none of the surviving mosquitoes drew near Critick. "I'm a bit cold. Would you mind splashing some of the medicinal broth on me?" Critick even managed a joke, trying to lure the mosquitoes onto himself. Li Banfeng scooped up a ladle of the broth and asked, "This is boiling water. Can you handle it?" "I've got a fever. Heat shouldn't bother me." Li Banfeng poured the boiling decoction over Critick's body. Whether from cold or scalding heat, Critick began to shiver. The liquid gradually cooled against his skin, and the mosquitoes, drawn by the cooling brew, drifted over to circle slowly around him. He had seen dragonflies skimming the water, but this was the first time Li Banfeng had ever seen mosquitoes doing it. Many mosquitoes touched Critick briefly and flew away immediately, while some foolish insects got stuck directly to the pus. Li Banfeng asked, "Is the virus you want to spread inside that pus?" Critick nodded. "Why don't you collect the pus and make it into poison? Why must you use yourself as bait for the mosquitoes?" "My fellow disciple made poisonous bait out of a virus he created himself, but that was limited to a single virus. Even with a cultivation higher than mine, that was all he could achieve. I need to mix several viruses together and spread them. Although I possess our Patriarch's power, I can only use it within a limited scope. Under these conditions, I have no way to separate the pathogen from my own body." Two hours later, Critick was utterly exhausted. The pus over his skin gradually receded, returning to plump, swollen pustules. Sitting in the pitch-black farmland, Critick could faintly make out lights in the distance. Only on such a special day would lights still be burning so late at night. "New Year... Tonight is the New Year," Critick gave a bitter laugh. "I don't know how much longer I have to live. If we fail, the peddler won't save me either. This might be my last New Year, yet I'm spending it with you in a place like this." Li Banfeng spat. "You think I want to spend New Year with you? In your country, New Year shouldn't be today anyway, right?" Critick shook his head. "It doesn't matter anymore. I love Puluo Province, and perhaps I'm destined to remain here. Put out the fire. I want to sleep for a bit. We'll continue tomorrow." Li Banfeng put out the fire and said to Critick, "I need to find a place to sleep for a while too. I'm afraid I can't keep watch over you the whole time." He had to return to the Portable Abode. Not only was it necessary for his cultivation, but he also had to bolster his body's resistance, or he might become infected with Lü Huazi's pathogen as well. Critick shook his head. "Right now I'm not that fragile. As long as I don't run into a formidable enemy, I should be fine." Li Banfeng walked to a secluded spot and entered the Portable Abode. Before long, he came out again. He brought Critick a blanket and several tins of canned food. Seeing Critick still shivering in the freezing wind, he poured a bowl of liquor into the chipped bowl Critick used for begging. "It's the New Year." The New Year had to feel like the New Year. Li Banfeng picked up his liquor gourd and departed. Critick cupped the chipped bowl in his hands and gulped down a large mouthful. As warmth gradually spread through his body, Critick praised, "Delicious." He thought of draining the bowl, but after a second thought, he left a sip behind. "It's the New Year. Have a sip too," he murmured toward the bowl. ... At daybreak the next morning, Li Banfeng lit the fire, brewed the medicinal broth, and continued drawing mosquitoes. Carrying on intermittently until dusk, not a single mosquito appeared nearby anymore. Critick looked at Li Banfeng and said, "Time to change locations." Li Banfeng looked toward the sky. "Time to change locations." With such a huge cauldron and so many herbs, Li Banfeng couldn't carry them around; he needed Pan Dehai's help. Pan Dehai's voice drifted faintly from midair: "Leave those things behind. I'll pick a good spot, and once you get there, I'll send you new ones." Pan Dehai had sensed it: Critick's method was indeed working. But that didn't change his disgust toward Critick. Anything Critick had touched, he wanted no part of. Before long, Pan Dehai appeared midair and gave Li Banfeng a map of Haichiling. Marked upon it were the areas with the densest mosquito populations. Li Banfeng looked at Critick. "Let's go. Time to set out." "I can't walk. It drained too much out of me. Could you carry me on your back? Even though that's asking a lot of you." Critick looked down at the pus covering him and offered an awkward smile. Li Banfeng hoisted him onto his back and sped forward against the wind and snow. Critick murmured into the wind, "In my country, there's a story that God sends His messengers to save those who suffer. I always thought it wasn't true, but now it seems we might just be the messengers of God." Li Banfeng gave a wry smile. "Don't make yourself out to be so noble. You didn't do this voluntarily." "But you're here voluntarily. I might die tonight. Could you tell me why? What made you stay in Haichiling after all?" Li Banfeng remained silent for a moment before answering, "Because I've known hunger." Critick resonated deeply with Li Banfeng's words. "I've starved too. I know how it feels. My younger brother and I caught a strange illness when we were young, covered in rashes and blisters. The villagers despised us, snatched our food, and beat us. The two of us were often starving." Li Banfeng asked, "What about your brother?" "Dead. Starved to death. On the night he died, I waited for God's messenger to appear, but I never saw one. That's why I always thought the story was fake." "Tonight I'll give you an extra tin of food and another bowl of liquor so you can drink with your brother." Critick smiled. "Can he really drink it?" Li Banfeng nodded earnestly. "He can." Amid the wind and snow, Li Banfeng carried Critick on his back, rushing onward along the path. ... On the fifteenth day of the first lunar month, Niu Fuzhi was on patrol at the village entrance. For two whole days, not a single mosquito had been seen. Did Seventh Master kill off all the mosquitoes? What did that Seventh Master look like again? Why couldn't he remember? And another benefactor who brought us medicine... why can't I remember him either? What in the world was wrong with his memory? Isn't this being ungrateful? Tillage Cultivator Niu Jingchuan arrived at Guotie Village, leaving some rapid-crop seeds with the village head. "These seeds can be planted for three harvests at most. Don't you dare plant more than that!" Village Head Xiang Jichun expressed his heartfelt gratitude. "What can I even say? How can I ever repay such kindness?" "What kindness of mine!" Niu Jingchuan waved a hand. "These were Seventh Master's orders, telling me to check which villages still have people left and bring over some seeds. Hurry and take them." "Seventh Master..." Xiang Jichun finally recalled Li Banfeng, who had exterminated pests in their village. "Where did Seventh Master go? Is he in your Laobing Village?" Niu Jingchuan scratched his head. "I don't know where he went either. To be honest, I can't even remember what he looks like." "I can't remember either. And earlier, a benefactor brought us medicine, and I can't remember him either," Xiang Jichun scratched his scalp. "Tell me, how could we be like this? Forgetting our own benefactors?" ... Deep within the newland, inside a cavern, an enormous monstrosity was smashing the cave's rock walls with its rock-hard forelegs. Its head resembled a locust's, but its torso lacked a locust's hard carapace, writhing across the ground like a rat-tailed maggot. Its back was covered in fine fuzz, intermingled with hundreds of writhing feelers swaying back and forth. Beneath it surged the rushing Wireworm River; this was the terminus of the Wireworm River. The wireworms in the river burrowed in and out of its body, relaying information to it. The mosquitoes it had painstakingly bred were now completely wiped out across Puluo Province. It was enraged. The forelegs protruding from its squirming body smashed the cave rocks into powder again and again. It could still breed another kind of insect—an insect far more terrifying than the mosquitoes. But that would take time! They wouldn't give it much time! As the giant insect was planning its next move, it suddenly heard a spine-chilling sound. Clack-a-rattle, clack-a-rattle. It was the peddler's rattle drum. It heard the peddler's murmur: "I figured it was you all along, but I never expected you diverted the Wireworm River and added several underground rivers in between. Searching for you along the way was truly exhausting work. Tell me, who put you up to this? Someone from the Outer States, or the Inner States?" Clack-a-rattle, clack-a-rattle. As the rattle drum drew closer, the enormous insect let out a roar: "Come on, then! They gave me power—I'm not afraid of you!" "Is that so? I'd certainly like to see that." The peddler pushed his cart with one hand, twirling his rattle drum as he walked into the cavern.