Chen Family Village sat in an area called Mayi Mountain south of the Bali River, falling under the jurisdiction of Yingshang County.
Like many villages in Da Ming located far from the county seat, Chen Family Village was isolated and backward. On ordinary days, the highest authority in the village was the village chief, followed by a handful of elderly, reputable clan elders.
Whenever trouble arose, the village chief and these elders gathered to confer. The conclusion they reached became final policy, never to be changed.
Of course, in a village like this, nothing truly major ever happened.
As far as money went, the wealthiest household in Chen Family Village was nothing more than ordinary dirt farmers compared to the rich families in town, scarcely rivaling even the traveling peddlers passing through. As for beauties, this was a remote mountain wild; the village girls were exposed to sun and wind doing farmwork from childhood, with no opportunity for education, so their looks and bearing were generally unremarkable as they grew up.
In a place like this, unless a bandit stronghold happened to be nearby, even robbers and flower-plucking thieves would never bother paying a visit.
Because of this, life in the village had gone on rather peacefully.
Until... a certain day in the seventeenth year of Yongtai.
That day, a ferocious storm broke out, thunder and rain raging from daytime straight into the night without letting up in the slightest.
In such cursed weather, whether farming, chopping firewood, or hunting, nothing could be done, so the villagers naturally turned in early.
Thus, early the next morning, the rain finally stopped, but many households discovered... their children were gone.
Children in mountain villages were mischievous, to be sure, but none stayed out overnight. Furthermore, in such heavy rain and pitch-black darkness, it was virtually impossible for children to run outside on their own.
What could be done? Everyone joined in the search.
Yet even after the entire village searched the surrounding areas for half a day, not a single trace could be found.
Seeing that dusk was falling again, the adults grew frantic.
First, as many as nine children were missing, and every single one was a boy. In those times, to say people valued sons over daughters was putting it politely. Put harshly, many households—especially poor ones—hardly treated daughters as human beings at all. It was not uncommon for destitute families to sell daughters as maidservants to wealthy households or even to brothels. Anyone who bothered to find a decent husband for a daughter was already considered conscientious. But boys were different; no matter how stupid or wicked, they were treasured by their families.
Second, among the nine missing boys, three were descendants of the elders, and one was the village chief's great-grandson. They were the "nobility" of the village; how could their disappearance not be a monumental disaster?
Third, the entire incident was bizarre. The many households whose children had not been taken were equally terrified, dreading that their own sons might vanish by tomorrow morning.
That night, an atmosphere of terror blanketed the village.
The village chief was even considering sending someone on a run to the county seat tomorrow, greasing a few palms at the yamen so the authorities might dispatch people to investigate.
When the next morning broke, someone at the village entrance began hollering, crying out, "Disaster! There's a demon!"
Villagers swarmed over at the noise, buzzing with discussion. By the time the village chief arrived, virtually every man, woman, old person, and child in the village had gathered in a circle.
The crowd parted to make way for the village chief. As he stepped forward and looked closely, he drew in a sharp breath. There, planted at an angle into the dirt ground at the village entrance, was a wooden post thicker around than a rice bowl.
Looking closer, this was no ordinary wooden stake; it was a ship's mast.
Naturally, anything just slightly thicker than a bowl was certainly not a mainmast, but in the minds of ordinary people, driving something like this deep into the earth was far beyond mortal human strength.
"Chief, look, there are words carved on it!" an observant bystander piped up to remind him before long.
The village chief had already noticed. Characters were indeed carved into the wooden column. As the most literate man in the village, it fell to him to step up and inspect them.
"The Sovereign of Waters descends upon the peaks,
Yet foolish mortals neglect the autumn breeze.
If you wish nine sons returned to your hearth,
Bring offerings to Dragon King Cave in the north."
The village chief recited the characters aloud, then furrowed his brows in contemplation for a moment, roughly grasping the meaning.
Next, he translated it for the villagers: simply put, a Lord Dragon King had arrived at the foot of Mayi Mountain these past couple of days. The torrential rain two days ago had been an omen of the Dragon King's arrival. But because the villagers were ignorant and had failed to welcome Lord Dragon King properly, he had taken offense, which was why nine children had disappeared. Now Lord Dragon King declared that so long as they brought offerings to "Dragon King Cave" north of the village, the children would be returned.
These words... viewed through modern eyes, were essentially a kidnapper's ransom note, the core demand being to pay up for the hostages.
Yet in the eyes of these villagers, this bandit logic made total sense.
To their minds, someone who could silently spirit away nine children in the middle of a thunderstorm and drive a ship's mast deep into the ground could not possibly be human.
The less knowledge and capability people had, the more inclined they were to explain the unknown using a framework they could easily grasp, thereby banishing their fear.
Seeking the truth meant confronting difficulty and danger, but following the herd was simple. If everyone spoke and acted this way, one simply followed suit. Even if it turned out wrong, everyone was wrong together.
And so the villagers hurried to prepare. Chickens, ducks, fish, pork, flour, grain, and copper coins—they pooled together several basketfuls, then carried the shoulder poles toward the cave north of the village to the clash of gongs and drums.
That cave was very deep and connected to an underground river, full of branching tunnels and treacherous terrain. The locals knew never to enter, as one could easily get lost and never come out. Originally, the cavern had no name, but since "Lord Dragon King" proclaimed it Dragon King Cave, the villagers adopted the name.
By noon, they had set up a makeshift altar before Dragon King Cave, lit incense, arranged the "offerings" neatly beside the cave mouth, and followed the village chief in performing the three kneelings and nine kowtows. Only after praying for a long while did they depart respectfully.
As it turned out, it actually worked. Early the next morning, they returned to find the nine missing boys lying beneath the offering table, while all the previous day's offerings were gone.
The villagers were now utterly convinced that Lord Dragon King had manifested his divine presence—after all, this kidnapper kept his word.
Later on, several similar incidents occurred in the village, following the exact same routine, so there was no need to recount them one by one. The children abducted and returned by the Dragon King were young and unable to speak clearly; when questioned by adults about what they had seen, they could explain nothing.
Over time, the people of Chen Family Village were thoroughly conditioned by this "Lord Dragon King." By now, the Dragon King no longer needed to resort to kidnappings. The villagers knew on their own to deliver a batch of "offerings" on the first and fifteenth of every month. No money was required—just flour, grain, wine, and meat. In addition, every quarter, they had to send a young woman, framed under the guise of "marrying Lord Dragon King's son."
At this point, anyone watching could likely tell that this gang of bandits posing as the Dragon King was not particularly clever, and their excuse was rather flimsy. Yet they had no choice. Unlike small children, a grown woman might run away; furthermore, if she saw anything and returned to talk, the secret of Dragon King Cave would be exposed.
Hence, they came up with the idea of a "marriage," which naturally allowed the villagers to deliver the person at dusk. In the dark of night, the girl could not see clearly and could not run far. As soon as the villagers left, they could step out and seize her before she had any chance of escape.
All told, this farce had been going on for over a year.
The villagers of Chen Family Village were adept at comforting themselves, much like certain religious devotees. Whenever something good happened in life, they claimed Lord Dragon King was protecting them, proving their offerings were well worth it. Whenever something bad happened, they assumed their devotion was lacking and resolved to contribute more offerings next time.
Until... on this particular evening, two newcomers arrived at the village entrance.
***
After entering Chen Family Village, Sun Yixie and Huang Donglai casually found a roadside tea stall to sit down, immediately asking about the scene they had witnessed at the entrance.
The villagers hid nothing. In their minds, Lord Dragon King was already an object of local worship, with nothing that needed concealing. Thus, the waiter and the nearby tea drinkers chimed in over one another, recounting the entire tale.
Having heard it, the immediate reaction of Sun and Huang—two modern men who had transmigrated here—was entirely predictable: this was damn well someone in disguise! What was it if not simple kidnapping and extortion?
However, neither of them said anything in front of the villagers. Having observed the locals' expressions and demeanor, they could tell these people were already suffering from Stockholm syndrome. If someone spoke ill of "Lord Dragon King" to their faces, they might very well turn hostile.
By then, night had almost fallen, so the two quickly sought out a local household to secure lodging.
Once inside the room, Sun Yixie tossed a few coins to the host, telling him not to disturb them, before shutting the door to confer with Huang Donglai.
"Brother Sun, are we getting involved?" Huang Donglai asked straight out.
Sun Yixie shared an unspoken rapport with him and naturally understood what he meant. "Of course we are~" An arrogant look crossed his face as he glanced up at his trident. "We even stepped in against Zouma Stronghold when they operated out in the open. Why would we fear a bunch of frauds playing ghost?" He paused. "Besides, your big brother isn't who he used to be, alright? With my martial prowess, killing a few mountain bandits is as easy as chopping melons and slicing vegetables!"
"Alright, alright, Brother Sun, that's enough," Huang Donglai said. "I admit you've made a bit of progress, but don't go deluding yourself into thinking you're 'full of strength,' okay? When someone ends up chasing you down with a blade, won't I have to cover your retreat again?"
"Shut your damn mouth~" Sun Yixie drawled loudly. "When was I ever chased down and hacked at? Just spit it out—are you chickening out or what?"
"Why would I chicken out? Even you're not scared," Huang Donglai replied. "I'm just telling you to be cautious, so your damn carelessness doesn't get you wrecked again."
"Of course I'll be cautious," Sun Yixie said, raising an eyebrow. "Your brother has a brain, alright?"
"Oh?" Huang Donglai read something from his expression, the corners of his mouth curling slightly. "Does that mean... you've got another plan, Brother Sun?"
"Heh heh..." Sun Yixie gave a wretched grin. "Just listen closely, and I'll tell you all about it..."
Chapter 22