Where Is the Demonic Land?

It was bitterly cold, the earth locked in frost, yet the peddler still wore only a blue cloth vest. He chiseled a hole in the ice and dove right in headfirst. More than two minutes later, the peddler popped back out of the ice hole, found a hand towel to wipe his face, and said to the "local spirit," "The lakebed entrance is blocked. All the other entrances are blocked too, leaving only that one—Liu Xiahui." Liu Xiahui—writing the character *Hui* for wisdom beneath a willow tree. Li Banfeng was quite astonished. "Who came up with such a creative entrance?" The peddler said, "Murong Gui thought of it. After becoming the local spirit, he left this entrance behind. He said the method to open the door couldn't be too complicated, lest he forget it himself, nor could it be too simple, lest someone else guess it. So he swapped one character of 'Liu Xiahui'—easy for him to recall, but hard for anyone else to guess." Li Banfeng looked at the Judge's Brush and praised, "Ah Gui, you're quite talented!" The Judge's Brush was asleep and gave no answer. The peddler gave a cold sneer. "Talented, my ass. He was just too lazy to think any harder. "I even asked him back then: this is the way to open your own front door, so why tell me? "He said it was to guard against villains coming in—that if an accident befell him, I could look out for the place. "I actually believed him and memorized the method. But thinking back later, didn't that just make me a guard for his home? "That kid was too lazy. He wanted me to watch his house for him. Frankly, I should have guessed back then that he had joined the Sloth Cultivators." The peddler took out two large inksticks and gave them to the "local spirit." The "local spirit" caught the rich fragrance of ink, hugged them tight to its chest affectionately for a good while, and revived considerably. Some spark returned to its previously dull face, and its writing speed quickened noticeably. Give it two sticks of ink, and it was satisfied, calmed down, and filled with fighting spirit. This brush was far too easy to fool. Li Banfeng asked the peddler, "You only give it ink, not paper. What if it runs out of paper?" The peddler picked up a written scroll and asked, "Are you talking about this?" Li Banfeng nodded. The peddler explained, "These scrolls aren't something I can provide. They are born from Moxiangdian itself." With that, the peddler unrolled the scroll. Densely inscribed upon it were Moxiangdian's three orders. Yet Li Banfeng suddenly noticed that at the beginning of the scroll, the characters were disappearing one by one. "What's the reason for this?" Li Banfeng looked at the peddler. The peddler sighed. "Because too many people don't want to study. The rules just written down are soon eroded away completely." Li Banfeng understood the principle. "Urging people to learn is a very difficult thing." "That's why being Moxiangdian's local spirit is so hard." The peddler kept watching the scroll in his hand until the writing vanished entirely, turning back into a blank scroll of paper. He handed the scroll to the "local spirit." The "local spirit" took the scroll, dipped into some ink, and continued writing the rules. "What a diligent, fine brush!" the peddler praised, then turned his gaze toward Li Banfeng. "Your cultivation is about to reach above the clouds, isn't it?" Li Banfeng shook his head. "I've only entered a pathway for a few days. I'm still far from reaching above the clouds." "If you're still far off, how did you become a local spirit?" "I haven't!" Li Banfeng denied outright. The peddler gave a cold snort. "I saw it with my own eyes. Murong Gui dangled you all over the place as you flew, and you even dealt with pioneers on that newland." Li Banfeng still shook his head. "I have a mental illness. At the time, I just wanted to fly. You wouldn't understand my thoughts." The peddler frowned. "You don't need to hide it from me. Wanting to be a local spirit without wanting to go to the Inner States is a good thing—something only a man with balls could do. "It's just that your newland only has half a covenant deed. The other half is still kept in the Inner States. If you're not careful, the Inner States will plot against you. "Moxiangdian is very different. The covenant deed here is intact. For you, this is a golden opportunity." Li Banfeng glanced at the "local spirit," which was writing with feverish haste, and shook his head. "I don't think this place suits me. I'm not a Literary Cultivator." "It doesn't matter if you're not a Literary Cultivator! What matters isn't the pathway, but the state of mind. As long as you have a heart eager to learn letters, there's no difficulty you can't overcome!" The peddler straightened his back, his figure suddenly seeming much taller and grander. Li Banfeng seemed to see a thick, heavy character for *pie* painted across the peddler's face. "Thanks for your kind intention, but I'm truly not suited for this place." The peddler looked at Li Banfeng with utmost sincerity. "I'm urging you to become the local spirit here not just to rescue my brush. I truly have your best interests at heart!" Li Banfeng nodded. "I believe your intentions are good, but I'm a journey cultivator. Sitting here writing characters day in and day out just isn't right." The peddler's face darkened. "Fine, don't come then! Don't know what's good for you! What kind of place do you think Moxiangdian is? How many people want to come here and don't even have the connections!" Li Banfeng had just been wanting to ask about that: "Moxiangdian is a very important place, isn't it?" The peddler was startled. "You didn't know that? Then why did you risk your neck here?" Li Banfeng replied, "Why should territory belonging to Puluo Province be handed over to the Inner States?" The peddler chuckled. "Well said! Any other reason?" Li Banfeng added, "I smelled the fragrance of ink here. In Puluo Province, that scent of ink is far too rare." The peddler smiled. "You mean the smell of ink?" Li Banfeng shook his head. "Not just ink. It's the territory, the people, the books, the customs, every word and deed, every stroke of the brush, the teahouses and poetry societies, the restaurants and inns..." He spoke whatever came to mind, describing everything he had seen over the past few days to the peddler. The peddler listened word by word, then asked, "What do you think of the people in Moxiangdian?" Li Banfeng recalled the people he had encountered in Moxiangdian. "Pretentious, arrogant, stubborn, pedantic. Quite obnoxious, but also quite endearing." The peddler laughed. "Right? Quite endearing, aren't they! "You're right. Moxiangdian has a fragrance of ink, and that fragrance of ink is truly precious. "People from the Outer States can almost all read and write, and people from the Inner States are literate as well. "Puluo Province lags behind by more than a little. In Black Rock Slope, barely half are literate. In Lüshui City, less than thirty percent can read. In other places, pick any hundred people at random and you might not find a single one who can read." Why were there so many literate people in Black Rock Slope? Even more than in Lüshui City? Li Banfeng did not interrupt the peddler, continuing to listen as he spoke: "Only in Moxiangdian is everyone literate. For every extra character a person knows, their vision reaches a li farther into the world. "Someone who knows a hundred characters can see clearly what's right around them. Someone who knows a thousand characters can see things in the wider world. Someone who knows ten thousand characters can connect past and present, inside and out, seeing it all as one. "The people who stay in Moxiangdian know to look, know to think. Whether they think rightly or wrongly, at least they think. "And those who leave Moxiangdian, no matter what method they use, no matter how pretentious they might be, can still convey what they've thought to others." Li Banfeng asked, "Can other people understand them, though?" The peddler shook his head. "They can't. Ninety percent can't understand. But at least there's ten percent left who think along with them. "If this territory of Moxiangdian is lost, no one in Puluo Province will be willing to think about things anymore, and all that's left will be waiting to be swallowed whole by the Outer States and the Inner States." Li Banfeng nodded. "So Moxiangdian cannot be lost, no matter what." The peddler nodded vigorously. "That's why it takes a fine lad with responsibility, courage, and true grit to serve as Moxiangdian's local spirit!" With that, the peddler looked at Li Banfeng with utter sincerity. Li Banfeng politely replied, "Hmph." ... The two left the local spirit's residence. On the way, Li Banfeng asked about something: "Going by your past schedule, you should have been around Haichiling and Kudaikan during this period. I had someone look for you. Why couldn't they find you?" At the mention of this, the peddler's face turned dark. "I was just about to ask you: is that lunacy of yours contagious?" Li Banfeng puffed out his chest. "I'm not crazy. A doctor examined me." The peddler fumed, "Then what kind of fit did your subordinate throw? Why did he use a radio station to look for me?" Luo Zhengnan used a radio broadcast to look for the peddler? Li Banfeng truly hadn't known about this. "Were you listening to the radio at the time?" The peddler shook his head. "I wasn't listening. One of my sweethearts heard it and tracked me down." Li Banfeng asked very cautiously, "Where did she track you down?" The peddler said with a sullen face, "At another sweetheart's house." One sweetheart going to another sweetheart's house—what on earth had the peddler gone through back then? Li Banfeng took a deep breath. What a stroke of luck. Truly fortunate. Good thing the companion dwelling had stayed calm and hadn't tracked the peddler down. If it had chased him right into the covers, that would have been a disaster. "Brother Lang, this little brother was reckless in this matter!" Li Banfeng hurriedly apologized to the peddler. Once outside the woods, the peddler handed Ge Junma and He Caiyuan over to Li Banfeng. "These two are still alive, just immobilized. Take them back and eat them." Li Banfeng smiled and said tactfully, "Brother Lang, you're joking. The toad might be passable, but that old man is human. How could I possibly eat that?" The peddler also smiled. "If you can't eat him, isn't it enough that someone in your house can?" Li Banfeng glanced at the peddler. It seemed he knew everything. The peddler tidied up his handcart and prepared to depart. Li Banfeng quickly asked, "Brother Lang, do you know a person named Lian Buda?" The peddler set down the cart and abruptly spun around to face Li Banfeng, his expression intensely grim. "When did you see him?" "Some time ago. That day, I dreamed I was rowing a boat on the sea, and my house had a misunderstanding and sent me into Lian Buda's oil lake." The peddler asked, "The house sent you there? Did you get hold of railway tracks?" Li Banfeng nodded. The peddler asked again, "What did Lian Buda say to you?" "He said he suffered a lot in that place, and he wants you to go save him." "The oil lake," the peddler muttered, furrowing his brow. "I know the place you're talking about. That's his face. But even if I went there, I couldn't get him out." Li Banfeng stayed silent. At such a high level of matters, he had no idea how to handle it either. After a long silence, the peddler said, "I've always wanted to save him, but I've never been able to come up with a good plan. Once I figure something out, I'll let you know. I might still need your help with this." Li Banfeng was taken aback. *Need my help with this?* He knew how much he weighed. With his current strength, trying to help the peddler was a bit too tall an order. He probably wanted help from the companion dwelling. But since the companion dwelling was so immensely useful, why had he given it to Li Banfeng in the first place? This was something Li Banfeng had wanted to ask all along, and today the timing felt right. "Brother Lang, why did you give that house to me? There must be countless people in the world who would love to have it." The peddler paused. "Didn't we already talk about this long ago? Because you suffered a loss when entering a pathway, I had to compensate you." "Was it really just because I got hit? With your methods, you surely could have made me avoid your cart's cabinet." The peddler said with a solemn face, "Not necessarily. In all things, accidents happen. There are always matters you can't guard against." It seemed the peddler did not want to elaborate. When someone did not want to talk about something, Li Banfeng never pressed. The peddler pushed his cart and said to Li Banfeng, "Anything else you want to ask? If not, I'm taking off. "I'm in a good mood today, which is why I told you so much. Next time we meet, who knows." Li Banfeng had many things to ask, but he could tell the peddler's patience was limited. After thinking it over, Li Banfeng asked the question he wanted to ask most: "Brother Lang, where is the Demonic Land?" The peddler fell silent. This seemed like something he shouldn't have asked, yet it was crucial to Li Banfeng. Both Madame and Hong Ying had fought against the Demonic Land, and both had also fought against the peddler. So what was the relationship between the peddler and the Demonic Land? According to Li Banfeng's understanding, the Demonic Land ought to be the Inner States—they were invaders. But which faction did the peddler and Grandpa Train belong to? Judging by their attitude toward the Inner States, the two of them could not possibly be in the same camp as the Inner States. Li Banfeng's understanding of the Demonic Land might contain some misconception. Was the peddler willing to talk about this? The peddler leaned back against his cart, pondering for a long time as if recollecting something. "When you brought up the Demonic Land, you really stumped me. How many years ago was that ancient history? "That place hasn't been called the Demonic Land for ages." Li Banfeng was taken aback. "Then what is it called?" "It's called Puluo Province." *Clang-clatter-clatter!* The peddler pushed his cart, rattling his drum, and vanished into the night.