Birch Hermitage

Li Banfeng sparred a few rounds with Zhong'er and gave him several martial arts manuals to study and cultivate diligently. Zhong'er was earnest; as soon as he got into the car, he began studying the texts. Li Banfeng, however, knew very well that Zhong'er's current cultivation would have very limited effect. In Puluo Province, Martial Cultivators were the most common pathway. Li Banfeng had met many low-tier practitioners, and Zhong'er's diligence had previously made him overlook an underlying issue: the gap between a Pugilist and a true Martial Cultivator. In actual combat, a Pugilist's first priority was choosing a suitable weapon. A Martial Cultivator had no need to consider such things; whatever they picked up was what they used. This determined an innate disparity in adaptability between the two. At the foundational level, Pugilists were simply a tier below Martial Cultivators. On the drive back, Li Banfeng asked Lightbulb, "What do they call Oil Cultivators in the Outer States?" "Lubricators!" "Did you become a dark-energy user through the bureau's guide agents too?" Lightbulb shook his head. "The guide agent I used is an heirloom passed down by my grandfather." "Your grandfather was an Oil Cultivator?" "I don't know what pathway he belonged to. I never met him—he passed away before I was born, and my parents never told me his pathway." "Who else in our bureau inherited their pathway from their family?" "Quite a few. The Insect Cultivator He Bensheng's pathway is a family heirloom, Sister Mi'e's pathway is inherited, and Big Head's is as well. There are several others too, but I can't recall them off the top of my head." At the mention of Big Head, Lightbulb paused for a good while. Big Head was still locked up in the Dark Star Bureau, having never returned home or seen his family since. Upon returning to his residence, Li Banfeng stepped into the companion dwelling. Chu Zikai was gone. Hong Ying had already prepared the flesh and blood and was waiting for the magical treasures to take their seats at the table. The gramophone had originally intended to keep Chu Zikai around for a bit longer, but an unexpected accident had occurred. "Husband, Chu Zikai suddenly uttered a sentence, and then his body began to burst apart, very much like what happened to An Zongding." "Which sentence?" "He said that so-called civilization was entirely fabricated." Hong Ying said, "I was questioning him about the Birch Hermitage at the time. Just for the residence of that fellow named something-lov, he gave over a dozen locations." Li Banfeng glanced at Hong Ying's notebook. "Over a dozen places will make him rather difficult to track down." Hong Ying replied, "I was pretty rough on him; I doubt he was lying." The household sat down to eat while Li Banfeng flipped through Chu Zikai's confession and Zhong'er's files. The Birch Hermitage was now an urgent problem Li Banfeng had to resolve. The organization knew his identity; he was in the open while they were in the shadows. If this dragged on, he could be ambushed by them at any moment. Both the files and the confession mentioned one place in particular: the black market. The Birch Hermitage was also starved of money. Aside from using the Ferry Gang to turn a profit, they ran businesses in the black market. Zhong'er had marked several stallholders who had dealt with the Birch Hermitage there. Chu Zikai had also mentioned in his confession that Migelov had his own business in the black market. As the family ate at the table, the gramophone instructed Hong Ying, "Take some food to Room Five, Room Seven, and Room Eight. Let the other rooms see that as long as they pull their weight for us, we'll never treat them unfairly." Li Banfeng left the companion dwelling and called Tang Changfa. Tang Changfa quickly handed his business over to Yan Hong'er and Yan Cui'er and hurried over to Li Banfeng's residence. Li Banfeng asked, "Settling in all right over at the black market?" "Very well! It's a wonderful place—business is easy, and folks get along well." "Where are you getting your inventory?" Li Banfeng hadn't solved this problem for Tang Changfa; when he first started trading, Tang Changfa could only sell what little stock he had on hand. "Seventh Master, you don't need to fret over that," Tang Changfa replied. He was indeed doing well in the black market. "Plenty of folks want to supply us. If they want me to take their goods, the quality has to be top-notch and the price reasonable. There's a sea of suppliers for me to pick from." Li Banfeng showed Zhong'er's list of stallholders to Tang Changfa. "Are you familiar with any of these people?" Tang Changfa pointed to a name, Zeng Hongfu. "I know this one. He's in his fifties and has worked the black market for years. Last night he kept running over to my stall, saying he wanted medicine to regrow severed limbs." Regrow severed limbs? "He wants to grow back an arm?" Tang Changfa said, "I don't know whether he's missing an arm or a leg. At first, I really didn't want to sell it to him, because the medicine is simply too precious." "You truly have medicine like that?" "Sure do! Two kinds, in fact. One is the paste given by our City Lord—it's a Glue Cultivator treasure. Sticking on flesh and blood is nothing to it, and pasting on arms or legs works after a fashion. The other is even more miraculous: the Peddler's medicinal plaster. No matter what piece is missing from your body, as long as you line it up and stick it on, it works like a charm every time." Li Banfeng had seen both items before, especially when the Peddler pasted Qiu Zhiheng's hand back on—that had truly astonished Li Banfeng. Tang Changfa continued, "Right now I only have one bottle of paste left, and just this single sheet of medicinal plaster. Such precious items—how could I bear to part with them? He came by several times and raised his offer, but I paid him no mind. I expect he'll come looking for me again tonight." Li Banfeng asked, "Aren't there other people from Puluo Province in the black market? Couldn't they buy the plaster or paste from someone else?" "Not a chance," Tang Changfa said, shaking his head. "The paste was obtained by our City Lord from a Glue Cultivator friend. That friend strains himself all year just to make two or three bottles, and if anyone else went asking, he wouldn't give them any. As for the Peddler's plaster, forget about it. If someone loses an arm or a leg, they can go find the Peddler to buy the plaster, but he only applies however much is needed—he never lets anyone take extra, no matter how much money they offer. The plaster I have on hand was snatched from his cart when he visited the City of Fools. You know how it is—the Peddler usually indulges us fools. Anywhere else, who would dare snatch something from the Peddler? This plaster is practically priceless." Both the plaster and the paste were priceless treasures. Tang Changfa was right to treasure them. Yet how did Zeng Hongfu know Tang Changfa had such rare medicine in his hands? "Did you show off either of those items?" Tang Changfa shook his head. "I never showed them off. When Zeng Hongfu came asking yesterday, Yan Cui'er was too careless and let it slip." Li Banfeng frowned. "She needs to be recorded for a beating over this. Tell Yan Cui'er she's owed a hundred whacks. When I have free time, I'll spank her myself." "Shopkeeper is right, she deserves a beating! I'll put it in the books right away!" In Li Banfeng's recollection, Migelov's severed hand had fallen to the ground and turned into sludge. While he certainly needed medicine for limb regrowth, the paste and plaster shouldn't be of much use to him, should they? His hand was already gone. Clutching at straws in desperation? Or did he have another trick up his sleeve? Li Banfeng said, "We'll head to the black market together shortly. Sell the paste to that man, and make sure to charge a steep price." With Master Li Seven's orders, Tang Changfa naturally complied. The two arrived at the black market and took a seat in a private box. Tonight, the Cultural Palace was screening a romance movie, and the primary goods on sale were medicinal herbs and drugs. Li Banfeng watched the film while Yan Cui'er and Yan Hong'er massaged his shoulders and back. Yan Cui'er was particularly attentive, acting cute and coy from time to time. "Shopkeeper, would you truly have the heart to hit me? If you must, just smack me a couple of times with your bare hand—you can't go picking up a weapon!" Halfway through the film, a knock came at the door. Keeping his composure, Li Banfeng moved to a corner of the private box. Zeng Hongfu had indeed returned, still seeking medicine for limb regrowth. He doubled his previous offer, and after Tang Changfa feigned hesitation for a good while, he finally sold the paste to him. Zeng Hongfu was overjoyed. Abandoning his stall, he bolted out of the Cultural Palace. Getting into his car and driving more than ten kilometers, Zeng Hongfu entered a residential building and went into a two-bedroom apartment. A dozen people were seated in the living room. Zeng Hongfu exchanged a few words with them in fluent Lavshan, and under the watchful eyes of two Lavshans, he entered the master bedroom. Migelov lay in the bedroom. Seeing Zeng Hongfu, a smile appeared on his face. "My child, do you have results?" Regardless of the other party's age, Migelov referred to everyone as "child." Zeng Hongfu found this quite pleasing. Acknowledging the greeting, he produced the paste. "This is the finest medicine from Puluo Province, a special product of the Bonders." "Child, you must be clearer with your terms. Is it Bonders, or Glue Cultivators?" Zeng Hongfu instantly realized his poor phrasing. "It's the product of Glue Cultivators. It can flawlessly reshape your lost limb." Migelov stared at the paste for a long time before nodding. "Child, I will keep your contributions to the Hermitage close to my heart. Your position in the Hermitage will also be adjusted accordingly. "Right now, I need some arms. And I mean several, not just one. As you know, fully restoring my left arm is not something a single arm can accomplish. It requires complex, meticulous reconstruction." Zeng Hongfu nodded repeatedly. "Great President, this is my sacred and glorious mission. You can leave this matter entirely to me." "Bring the person who sold you this medicine here to see me. If he refuses to come, demand to know the source of the medicine. Whether they answer or not, their lives can no longer remain in this world." Zeng Hongfu said, "Rest assured, I will report back to you first thing tomorrow morning." Migelov waved his hand, signaling Zeng Hongfu to leave. Not daring to turn his back on Migelov, Zeng Hongfu backed away toward the door, opened it, slipped out sideways, and gently pulled it shut, making barely a sound. Migelov looked at the small bottle of paste in his hand, then glanced at his severed arm. Closing his eyes, he recited a short prayer: "Great God, grant me Your protection, that with a whole body I may continue to serve at Your feet; that with a whole body I may punish the thugs who blaspheme against God; that with a whole body I may wash away the shame in my heart." A tall, burly brown-haired man entered Migelov's room, bowed, and said, "President, we have identified the woman and found her residence. Her name is Jin Shunying. On the night of the incident, she went to the auction together with Li Qi." "Have you captured her?" The man shook his head. "She hasn't returned to her residence yet. Our people are still staking out her place." Migelov nodded. "I trust your competence; you are far better than those foolish Huanguo people. Pour me a drink." The man brought over vodka from the liquor cabinet and poured a glass for Migelov. Downing a mouthful, Migelov calmed down considerably and gestured that the man could leave. The man left the room, pulling the door shut with a loud clatter. Migelov frowned. In this regard, Huanguo people possessed a better sense of propriety after all; they were clearly far more polite. Closing his eyes, he was just preparing to sleep when strange sounds began echoing continuously from the living room. Clang! Thud! Migelov shouted in anger, "What on earth are you doing?" A man pushed the door open. "Apologies, Mr. President, I just went and fetched some arms for you." "Arms?" Migelov was taken aback. He had assigned this task to Zeng Hongfu, but whether in stature or voice, the man at the doorway clearly wasn't Zeng Hongfu. "Who are you?" Li Banfeng walked in holding over a dozen arms. "There are left arms and right arms, all freshly hacked off in the living room. Bloodlines well matched, perfectly marbled, meat fresh as can be. Go on, attach them while they're still warm." Migelov exerted himself to erect an earthen wall to block Li Banfeng, scrambled out of bed, and dashed to the window, preparing to leap out. Missing an arm and covered in injuries, Migelov failed to climb onto the windowsill immediately. Li Banfeng's shadow lent him a helping hand, hoisting him onto the sill and smoothly tossing him right into the companion dwelling. Inside the companion dwelling, Migelov drew a dagger and sliced off his own left leg. The leg dissolved into a mass of mud, rapidly forming a castle that enveloped him. In Migelov's design, the castle was immense, large enough to burst this tiny room apart and re-establish a link with the outside world. Yet an invisible force suppressed its size, confining its height to barely over a meter and its length to just about a meter and a half. Reclining inside the miniature castle, Migelov concentrated his will, trying to make it move. Yet the castle sensed no power from his deity, remaining firmly rooted in place without the slightest sign of motion. Migelov continuously thickened the walls to protect himself first, while pondering his next move. Hong Ying watched with puzzlement. "What is this foreigner trying to do? Why did he wrap himself in mud?" The gramophone chimed in, "Yingying, have you ever eaten beggar's chicken?" Hong Ying caught her drift immediately. Hurriedly gathering firewood, she started building a blaze. Unable to move the castle, Migelov grew increasingly frantic. The temperature inside climbed steadily, leaving Migelov gasping for air. Li Qi, what in the world are you going to do to me? You know my background, so how dare you lay a finger on me? You've offended the Birch Hermitage, and instead of thinking about how to protect yourself, you dare strike against me? Are you insane? What kind of place is this house anyway? Where on earth did these monsters in this house come from?! The gramophone reminded Hong Ying, "Mind the heat. Don't actually cook him to death." "Don't worry," Hong Ying said, lifting the liquor gourd and pouring some liquor over the fire. "Once he can't bear it any longer, he'll crawl out on his own." Li Banfeng sent all the corpses from the living room into the companion dwelling and searched the two-bedroom apartment thoroughly. "Master, there's a hidden compartment under the sofa." The glove burrowed under the sofa and soon emerged with an iron box. Opening the box to check, he found a stack of photographs inside, each showing large expanses of formulas scribbled across a blackboard. The glove searched around the apartment once more, turning up several hundred thousand in cash, a blueprint, and an account ledger. The blueprint seemed to be the design for some structure; it was somewhat crudely drawn, and many sections lacked measurements. The ledger recorded recent income and expenses, but because it was written in Lavshan, Li Banfeng couldn't decipher the details. Giving all the cash to the glove, Li Banfeng dragged the corpses of Migelov's dozen-plus subordinates into the companion dwelling. The glove used its techniques to clean up any traces from the scene and took back the bottle of paste. Ensuring nothing had been overlooked, it left the apartment with Li Banfeng, and they headed back to the black market together. On the second floor of the cinema in the Cultural Palace, Zeng Hongfu brought five men into Tang Changfa's private box. The cinema's private booths were tiny, so once they entered, the room was essentially packed. Tang Changfa asked, "Brother Zeng, what's the meaning of this?" Zeng Hongfu smiled. "Nothing much. Just dropped by to ask a few questions. Where did you get that bottle of paste?" Tang Changfa shook his head. "You shouldn't be asking that. The black market has its rules. If you claim the goods are faulty, you can get that fellow selling snacks to bear witness. If you want to ask about anything else, I have nothing to say." "Won't talk?" Zeng Hongfu's smile vanished. "Then we'll just have to make you suffer a bit." Tang Changfa frowned. "What are you trying to do? Pulling dirty tricks in a place like this?" "Scared?" Zeng Hongfu slid an Emei piercer from his sleeve. "If you're scared, spit out the truth while you still can, and I might leave you a way out alive!" "You're the one who drew a weapon first!" Tang Changfa pointed outside. "If the snack vendor catches sight of this—" "He won't see a thing," Zeng Hongfu said, shaking his head slightly. "And he'll never see any of you ever again." Tang Changfa sighed. "Whatever shall we do?" "What to do? Tell the truth!" Zeng Hongfu aimed the Emei piercer between Tang Changfa's eyebrows. "I'm not worried about that. I'm worried about having no way to account for this to our Shopkeeper—he hasn't given us permission to kill anyone here." With that, Tang Changfa grabbed the Emei piercer and plunged it right into his own skull. Zeng Hongfu froze. The five men behind him were utterly dumbstruck. Tang Changfa's brains were trickling out of the wound, yet he acted as though nothing had happened at all, continuing his conversation with Yan Hong'er and Yan Cui'er. Zeng Hongfu and his men were scared stiff, unable to move a muscle. Fool Cultivator skill: Plea to Strike and Issue Challenge. Where had Zeng Hongfu and his men ever seen anything like this? Watching the Emei piercer quivering up and down inside Tang Changfa's forehead, they were terrified out of their wits, too petrified even to flee. Yan Cui'er proposed an idea. "Let's not kill them. We can just slice off more than half of their flesh to ensure they can't run around, yet won't die. We get to keep the flesh and blood, leave behind no traces, and reap tangible benefits. Wouldn't that be killing two birds with one stone?" Yan Hong'er pinched Yan Cui'er. "What rotten ideas you have! Let me remind you, you're already booked for a beating with the Shopkeeper—a full hundred whacks! If you dare cause trouble again, see if he doesn't beat you half to death!" Yan Cui'er stuck out her tongue and went quiet. Yan Hong'er suggested, "Let's drug them unconscious with knocking powder and wait for the Shopkeeper to arrive before dealing with them." Tang Changfa turned around and locked the private box door. "Yan Hong'er, if you ask me, you ought to be booked for a beating too. What did the Shopkeeper tell us? We run an honest, proper business! Stop always resorting to knocking powders! If they take that powder, they'll suffer dizziness for days on end—think of how miserable you'd make them! Wouldn't it be simpler to just sever the tendons in their arms and legs? That way they won't feel dizzy in the slightest." Before long, Li Banfeng stepped into the box and frowned. "What on earth did you do? Why did you sever their hamstrings?" Pouting, Yan Cui'er muttered, "Tang Changfa made us do it—" Li Banfeng looked at Tang Changfa. "I've truly wasted all this time teaching you. We are honest businesspeople. How could you just go and sever their tendons like that? Can they even be reattached?" Tang Changfa murmured, "I was worried that taking the powder would make them dizzy—" Li Banfeng said, "So what if they feel dizzy for a bit? At least the tendons would still be intact, and once grafted onto your bodies, they could still be used! Now that you've severed them, how are you supposed to use them? Couldn't you have extracted the tendons intact beforehand and stuck them straight onto yourselves? Cutting them into pieces like this—isn't that a pure waste of good material?" Yan Cui'er said, "They wouldn't listen to me! That's exactly what I wanted to do from the start." Li Banfeng nodded. "In the future, for things like this, all of you listen to Yan Cui'er." Yan Hong'er huffed, "Shopkeeper, have you forgotten her beating? A full hundred whacks—we're keeping track of every single one!" Li Banfeng waved his hand. "We'll talk about that later." Yan Cui'er glared at Yan Hong'er. "The Shopkeeper dotes on me! Even beating me is out of love! Choke on that, you wench!" "You wench, you really are infuriating me to death!" As soon as Li Banfeng entered the companion dwelling, he saw Hong Ying pinned down over a stool by the gramophone, taking a beating. This was no game; the gramophone was truly thrashing her. Li Banfeng asked, "What happened here?" The gramophone said, "I told her to use fire to smoke that foreign devil out. She didn't know when to stop and went and roasted the foreign devil until he was well-done! There are so many things we haven't had the chance to ask him yet!" Hong Ying gritted her teeth. "Seeing him manifest such a massive structure all at once, he should have at least been an above-the-clouds cultivator! Who knew he couldn't take the heat at all?!" The companion dwelling spoke up: "Xiao Wan, don't be too hard on Hong Ying. It's just as well that he burned to death. Suppressing that structure of his truly wasn't easy." The gramophone released Hong Ying. Standing up with an aggrieved expression, Hong Ying complained, "Even the Old Master said it wasn't easy! Shouldn't that man have solidly been above the clouds? Who would've thought he'd die after being baked for less than half an hour!" Migelov had been burned to death by Hong Ying, still encased in the mud right up to the end. This was what Chu Zikai had described as combat power that defied description. The castle Migelov had conjured had given even the companion dwelling pause, yet Hong Ying had merely lit a fire and roasted him to death. "Wife, do we have any way to interrogate his spirit?" The gramophone said, "There is a way, but it's somewhat risky. Once this foreign devil's spirit leaves his body, it will forget most things. Making him remember them requires slow cultivation, nurturing him into a resentful spirit. There's no telling how long that would take, nor what trouble he might cause in the meantime. To be safe, your humble maidservant simply ate him." This wasn't because the gramophone was greedy for food; she certainly hadn't been starved of sustenance lately. Her reasoning was sound: keeping such a bitter, vengeful spirit harbored inside the companion dwelling could lead to unpredictable consequences. "Dead is dead; if he's dead, let the feast begin!" Li Banfeng took it in stride. Migelov's death merely meant losing a confession, and confessions had to be verified for truthfulness anyway, making them of limited value. The physical evidence in his hands, on the other hand, held considerable value. "Wife, take a look at these photographs." The gramophone examined the photos carefully. "These are some algorithms or formulas, without beginning or end, impossible to decipher. There are a few photos with writing, but the script is hard to understand." A few photos were accompanied by text, but it wasn't Huanguo script; it closely resembled the writing in the ledger. "This should be the Lavshan language. It seems no one in our household knows Lavshan," Li Banfeng mused. "Tomorrow, I'll take them to the Dark Star Bureau and have their translator look them over to produce a translation." The Tang dao felt this was ill-advised. "Milord, we just killed a leader of the Birch Hermitage, and now you want to show their belongings to the Dark Star Bureau? Although you have friends there, we cannot be entirely candid with them. Proper precautions must still be taken." Li Banfeng also knew precautions were necessary. The method he could think of was to break the sentences apart and have the translator decode them across multiple sessions. The crux of the matter, however, was that the Dark Star Bureau apparently only had one Lavshan translator. No matter how many pieces he split it into, there was always the risk that the translator would piece everything together in the end. Use an online translation tool directly? Uploading the materials to the internet would be tantamount to broadcasting the matter to the entire world. Finding an electronic dictionary to translate offline? The translation quality would be heartbreakingly awful... The companion dwelling offered a suggestion: "There is a Literary Cultivator in Room Nine who speaks many foreign tongues. She can probably speak Lavshan as well." The Old Master seemed to have recalled quite a few things recently. Li Banfeng said, "Go ahead and eat. Don't wait for me." As Hong Ying prepared to peel the mud off Migelov, the companion dwelling said, "Don't touch it, leave it to me. This mud is unique; I still have a use for it." Arriving at Room Nine, Li Banfeng gently touched the red lotus's seedpod. "Hua Jiu'er, did you stay in Xuehuapu for a time?" The red lotus squeezed Li Banfeng's finger with its seedpod petals. "Originally I couldn't remember such an experience, but hearing Chu Zikai mention it, I seem to have a faint recollection. I never joined Xuehuapu; I merely did some work with them. I suppose you could call it a partnership." "You made pills for them to sell for money?" "More than that. I also helped them refine magical treasures and weapons, and offered them many ideas. I did quite a lot for them." "Why did you do that?" "For revenge." "Revenge against whom?" "I can't remember. I was severely wounded once in Xuehuapu and lost many of my memories." Li Banfeng asked further, "Then why did you leave Xuehuapu later?" "I didn't want to leave, but someone took me away by force. That was when I suffered my injuries." "Who took you away? He Jiaqing?" "Not him—he didn't have the ability. But as to who it really was, I can't remember either." Whether she truly couldn't recall or was deliberately keeping it hidden remained unknown. Li Banfeng pressed no further. Setting the photographs and the ledger down in Room Nine, he looked around and said, "Friend residing in Room Nine, would you be willing to lend a hand?" A woman's voice drifted into his ear. "Young master, is this the Lavshan language?" Li Banfeng nodded. "Yes, it is." The woman murmured softly, "The script in the photographs records an ancient incantation. Beside the incantation are calculations and mathematical derivations." Li Banfeng was thoroughly astonished. "Using mathematics to derive an incantation?" "Yes. Upon seeing it, this humble one found it novel as well." The woman's voice was ethereal, her breath faint and wavering; without listening carefully, it was difficult to make out her words. Li Banfeng asked further, "What is the result of the derivation?" "That, this humble one cannot tell. I can only translate the words for you, Young Master." Before long, the translation was ready, penned upon a sheet of white paper. Li Banfeng picked up the paper and looked at it. Several lines of verse were written upon it: "Ignorant of cruelty amid the fires of war, Unaware of tears and blood between life and death; Strangers meeting by chance upon the road, Speak not of deep love or enduring devotion— 'Tis nothing more than an illusory dream." Li Banfeng read it over several times and asked, "This is the translation? Can a foreign language truly be translated like this?" The woman replied, "Translation values faithfulness, expressiveness, and elegance. A touch of elegance lends greater artistic conception." "Yet this doesn't look like an incantation either." "This is indeed an incantation. Westerners' incantations sometimes truly read like poetry. If you do not believe me, why not show this incantation to the Madam of the house? She is well-traveled and knowledgeable; she should be able to discern its authenticity." Li Banfeng read it a few more times and indeed found that the text held a subtle, deeper meaning. What sort of result would this incantation yield? Would it create a magical formation? Or trigger a particular spell? The details would have to be left to his wife to judge. Holding the translation, Li Banfeng returned to the main room. Just as he was about to show it to the gramophone, he suddenly noticed a sheet of newspaper fall from the shelf onto the floor. How did the newspaper fall? Li Banfeng looked up, only to find that the judge's brush had kicked the newspaper down. The paper had originally served as its blanket. "Give it to me." The judge's brush skewered the translation, held it over the candle flame, and burned it straight to ashes. Li Banfeng was startled. "Why did you burn it?" The judge's brush replied with four words: "Bull-fucking-shit!"