Another Worst Lot

"Yet starting yesterday morning, my connection with Lord Water Spirit was severed. No matter how I called out, it never responded!" "There's nothing I can do to help." The old man handed the divination sticks back to He Lingchuan. "Besides, since these two sticks were designated as 'silent lots,' there must be a reason for it. Lord Water Spirit often said that some heavenly secrets can only be observed, not spoken." He Lingchuan shook the two sticks and asked, "The old turtle specifically crafted two new lots for me without making any demands?" "Lord Water Spirit said to let everything take its natural course." Everyone let out a long breath. He Yue patted his elder brother's shoulder and said, "Don't lose heart. If that's what the Water Spirit said, even though you drew the worst lots, it might not truly be a bad thing." "No, no, Lord Water Spirit's lots are remarkably accurate—eight times out of ten, they hit the mark." As a former lot interpreter, Old Man Liu was perhaps overly honest. "There are very few worst lots in this canister; only five were given out over the past ten years. But whenever one appears, great misfortune is sure to follow! Aside from the two in your hands, the people who received the first two are both dead. One was beheaded by bandits, and the other drowned in a great flood. It's said they both suffered terribly before dying!" The shrine instantly became as quiet as a graveyard. "Giving me worst lots—and two of them at once—yet refusing to interpret them!" Fire burned in He Lingchuan's eyes. "What is the meaning of this!" He sneered sideways at Old Man Liu. "Could it be that the old turtle isn't dead at all, but hiding in some corner just to mess with us?" Old Man Liu said dryly, "I wouldn't know. This humble old man is only a shrine keeper; I have no idea what's happening in the lake." He was a man, not a fish. How could he possibly know what had happened to the Water Spirit? "Still, Lord Water Spirit did say that those who draw the worst lot might still have a slim chance of survival if they remain vigilant and prepare for a rainy day." He Lingchuan only found it ridiculous. "If it's so prophetic, how could it fail to divine its own end?" Someone outside chimed in, "What end?" Everyone turned around to see He Chunhua approaching, followed by two guards. He Yue asked in surprise, "Father, why did you come out as well?" Outside, panic was thick and fierce bandits lurked around them—why was the whole family acting as if they were on an outing? "This is the liveliest spot in the entire eastern half of the village. How could I not come see?" When He Chunhua had stepped out and inquired, the patrol guards said the whole family was here. "What happened?" "Big Brother consulted the lots twice here, and both turned out to be worst lots." He Yue was articulate and summed it up in a few sentences. "None of the rest of us drew anything so unlucky. The interpreter says the Water Spirit left these specifically for Big Brother." "Worst lots? Let me see." He Chunhua took the two sticks and looked them over. His brows furrowed tightly, but then he burst into hearty laughter. "Can this really be taken seriously?" Old Man Liu immediately said, "My Lord, there are things you do not know..." He Chunhua waved a hand with complete indifference. "You are the one who does not know. My son was watched over by Great Shaman Zhaomandu as he grew up. The Great Shaman long ago declared that Chuan'er possesses both fortune and wealth, with the momentum to soar into the clouds—a general of immense fortune blessed by Heaven. These worst lots of yours are utter nonsense, absolute nonsense!" He fixed his gaze on He Lingchuan. "Do you believe Great Shaman Zhaomandu, or the words of some wild mountain monster?" He Lingchuan could not help feeling that his father's gaze was exceptionally piercing. "The Great Shaman." *As if.* "That's my good son!" He Chunhua patted his shoulder. "Besides, the Water Spirit's spirit tablet has already broken. The turtle demon is dead—how could its divination still count?" Hearing this, Madam Ying looked down at the stick in her hand. "Ah, and here I thought I finally drew the best lot." So it didn't count after all? He Chunhua took her stick, glanced at it, and chuckled. "Even without drawing lots, I know your fortunes will be blooming with splendor." "Oh, my Lord!" Madam Ying beamed like a blossoming flower. "Would you like to draw one to try?" The words slipped out naturally, but she immediately realized her slip of the tongue. He Chunhua was not angry, but his refusal was resolute. "I will not! It doesn't count anyway." At this moment, Maotao asked Old Man Liu, "By the way, you said five worst lots were given out in total, and four are accounted for. What about the other one?" He Lingchuan held two, and the recipients of the other two were already dead. "That was an outsider. He left the day after seeking a lot, so I don't know what became of him." Old Man Liu scratched the back of his head. "A few months ago, two outsiders came by, an old man and a youth, saying they wanted to see the place where the High Founder raised his army. The younger one even came to the Water Spirit Shrine to draw a lot. The elder said it was useless; his exact words were something like, 'Your destiny is not decreed by Heaven.' But the youth sneaked back on his own the next day, bringing plenty of offerings and pushing them into the lake. I told him the Water Spirit had already sealed the lots, but he wouldn't believe me. Afterwards, no matter how he shook the canister, not a single stick fell out. "The youth muttered to himself, 'So it really isn't decreed by Heaven, is it?' and walked away thoroughly disappointed. Who would have thought that after he left, just as I was about to put the canister back up high, a red stick suddenly tumbled out. I simply treated it as the one he had drawn." He Lingchuan turned around and demanded, "Where is that stick?" The old man had mentioned earlier that every drawn worst lot had to be removed and stored separately. "It's here, it's here." Old Man Liu hurried into the low room on the west side, rummaging around. Before long, he returned holding a red stick. Everyone leaned in to look. Written on this worst lot was a line of small characters: *Yellow sands stretch far away, great ambitions unfulfilled, body perishes before...* Maotao looked at it with exasperation and voiced what everyone was thinking. "Where's the last character?" What in the world—why was a section of the stick burned away? The final character had been incinerated. Old Man Liu said sheepishly, "Oh dear, last time I was burning firewood, it fell into the pile and was almost completely reduced to ashes." "Do you remember what character was burned away?" "N-No, I don't." Old Man Liu gave an embarrassed, wry smile. "There are one or two hundred lots here. How could I remember them all?" He Lingchuan suddenly asked, "What was that young guest's surname?" "Th-That..." Old Man Liu pondered for a long time. "Months have passed. But his surname wasn't very common." "Could his surname have been Nian?" "Ah, yes, yes, yes!" Old Man Liu was instantly jogged. "It was Nian! Nian as in New Year!" Seeing her husband's darkened expression, Madam Ying hurriedly pulled out a few copper coins and handed them to the old man. "All right, all right, that will be all for today. Go back and rest." He Lingchuan silently walked out of the Water Spirit Shrine and suddenly slammed a heavy punch into a sapling. *Crack!* The sapling snapped clean through. He Chunhua followed him out closely and said solemnly to his eldest son, "Stay calm! Chuan'er, sometimes coincidences happen, but they are merely coincidences!" He Lingchuan remained silent, his expression grim. The one who drew that worst lot was undoubtedly Nian Songyu. So that kid had visited this place as well! *Yellow sands stretch far away* corresponded to the Panlong Desert. *Great ambitions unfulfilled*—well, the father and son of the Nian family indeed harbored treacherous hearts yearning to rebel. As for the remaining characters, He Lingchuan recalled the "heavenly god" that had descended upon Nian Songyu; that seemed quite fitting too. It appeared that, at least in this instance of divination, the old turtle demon had not been mistaken! Chapter 116: Resolving the Calamity As if hearing his thoughts, He Chunhua continued to persuade him, "Even if we take a hundred steps back and grant that the Water Spirit has some uncanny ability, it cannot be right every single time." He Yue emerged just in time to hear this and chimed in at once, "Exactly. The shrine keeper said earlier that the Water Spirit still makes mistakes. Perhaps with great disaster looming over its own head, it couldn't even divine good from ill anymore?" "That makes sense." He Lingchuan inhaled deeply. "There's no need to persuade me. I understand." "Big Brother..." "I said there's no need to persuade me!" He Lingchuan snapped, cutting him off. "Leave me alone!" This fit the eldest son's usual temperament, so He Chunhua found nothing odd about it. But Madam Ying, walking out behind them, scolded, "How can you speak like that? Yue'er is only trying to comfort you out of kindness!" He Lingchuan turned and walked off. He Chunhua waved his hand to play peacemaker. "Enough, enough. He's in a foul mood; don't hold it against him." He Lingchuan's mind was in utter turmoil. He recalled the words Nian Songyu had spoken before dying: *"You aren't far from death!"* Back then, the so-called "heavenly god" had possessed Nian Songyu's body, finishing that final sentence on his behalf. He Lingchuan had always treated it as nothing more than Nian Songyu's dying curse and paid it no mind. But what if that "heavenly god" had seen something? The heavenly god had originally intended to possess He Lingchuan's body, only to be violently cast out within the illusion inside his sea of consciousness. That altered illusion, the street corner within it, the glowing sigil beneath the cracked plaster where he struck the wall... Even that so-called "heavenly god" had been expelled from his sea of consciousness by an unknown force. He had not forgotten that scene! Was that the power of calamity? Could all those past events, together with the two worst lots the Water Spirit had delivered today, be interconnected? A sense of urgency he had never experienced since crossing over welled up within him; his thoughts were a tangled mess. Just then, a guard came sprinting over to deliver a report to He Chunhua. After hearing it, He Chunhua immediately called out to his eldest son, "The interrogation yielded intelligence! Chuan'er, come over." He Lingchuan had no choice but to walk back. "Look at your surroundings. Right now, what matters most is the grand scheme—annihilating these fierce bandits! Besides, if you truly have a tribulation awaiting you, perhaps it will be answered tonight. Ruthless bandits coming for our lives—is that not calamitous enough? As long as we successfully leave Xianling Lake, this ominous cloud will disperse on its own!" He Chunhua pressed a hand on his shoulder and added, "Chuan'er, you must believe in me, and you must believe in the Great Shaman. Do you understand?" He Lingchuan looked at him and took a deep breath. "I understand, Father." *If only it were truly that simple.* "That Water Spirit was playing tricks, and it must have had an ulterior motive," He Chunhua said gravely. "It wouldn't do this for no reason. Believing it is only borrowing trouble." He Lingchuan nodded. He Chunhua then gathered everyone to return to the main house. On the walk back, He Lingchuan's head was consumed by one thought: if the Water Spirit's omen of "great misfortune" still held true, did it mean he would end up meeting a gruesome death in a foreign land just like Nian Songyu? If there was still a slim chance of survival, how was he supposed to seize it? From this day forward, he had to keep a tight rein on his own life at all times and find a way to resolve this lurking misfortune—if it truly existed. The most terrifying aspect of the Water Spirit's prophecy was that it warned a night traveler of a deep abyss ahead, yet refused to say how far away it was. From now on, every step he took would be fraught with trepidation. *Sigh.* Before leaving Blackwater City, he should have paid a visit to Great Shaman Zhaomandu; perhaps he might have gained something. It was just that, as a transmigrator back then, he had felt guilty and wanted to stay as far away from that mysterious old man as possible. ... Muffled groans continued to drift out from the kitchen. The village cottage had poor sound insulation; even with Fat Wang's mouth gagged, everyone could hear his whimpers of agony. The fat man was truly having the rottenest luck. Before long, the sound of splashing water came from the kitchen. Immediately afterward, the personal guard Zhao Qinghe stepped out of the kitchen and reported, "My Lord, the situation is grim." He Chunhua found a chair and sat down. "Speak." "Two days ago, this band of mountain bandits indeed captured a nearby town, but it wasn't Qianteng Town—it was Desheng Town! That place is only forty li from Xianling Village. Furthermore, the bandits garrisoned in Desheng Town do not number two hundred, but one thousand two hundred!" *Twelve hundred—so many!* Everyone was shaken. He Yue muttered, "That's almost the size of a regular army." He Lingchuan had originally thought two to three hundred would be the absolute maximum. Two or three hundred ruthless bandits against a local militia would already hold great odds if they launched a surprise attack. Who could have guessed that the bandits in Desheng Town and Xianling Village combined would total nearly fifteen hundred! Never mind a mere town; if these bandits had even a shred of discipline and combat capability, they could take an entire walled city by surprise— An ordinary walled city caught off guard—those were the only two conditions they needed to meet. Yet those words were merely the appetizer; the intelligence that followed was even more sensational: "They are Buxin people, heading south by water from Woling Pass this time. They aren't ordinary mountain bandits, but routed rebel troops!" The two words *Woling Pass* flashed through He Lingchuan's mind like a bolt of lightning. All the troubles the He family had faced, from first to last, ultimately revolved around Woling Pass! These people were actually routed rebels who had fled from the battlefield of Woling Pass. He Lingchuan had only learned of the true outcome at Woling Pass after returning to Blackwater City from the Panlong Desert. The imperial troops had won, the rebel leader had been slain, and the remnants had scattered in defeat. Yet precisely at that time, the Grand Marshal had staged a rebellion in the capital, attempting to usurp power. The imperial forces at Woling Pass naturally had to march back at once to defend the monarch, leaving them no choice but to let the fleeing brigands go unchecked. Woling Pass was less than two hundred li from here; calculating the coordinates, this place was likely right along the routed army's retreat route. Everything fit together. Zhao Qinghe added, "Boss Lu's name isn't Lu Han, but Lu Yao." The moment that name was spoken, He Chunhua slapped the table and shot to his feet. "Are you saying he's General of the Left Tent Lu Yao, under the rebel chief Hong Xiangqian?" "Yes, none other than Lu Yao!" With his hands clasped behind his back, He Chunhua paced back and forth across the dining hall twice. Others rarely saw him this agitated. He Lingchuan nudged He Yue with his elbow. "How many generals did the rebel army have?" He Lingchuan had heard of Hong Xiangqian's name. This was the rebel leader who had advanced a thousand li north over two years, captured Woling Pass, and shaken Great Yuan to its core. Among the common folk of northern and western Yuan, this man was portrayed as a fanged, savage monster—a vicious rebel chieftain who drank human blood raw, flayed human skin alive, and left thousands of li of scorched drought in his wake. This, of course, was merely the propaganda needs of the Yuan royal court. When He Lingchuan first heard it, he wondered if the man was supposed to be a drought demon reborn. As for who served under Hong Xiangqian's banner, the original host of this body had only a vague grasp of it; at moments like this, his lack of general knowledge became glaringly apparent. He Yue whispered, "Four when they first raised their banner, fourteen at their peak, and only five survived the battlefield after their defeat. General of the Left Tent Lu Yao fully deserves the title of 'abominable villain.' He is a true man-eater who loves nothing more than stir-frying the hearts of children under the age of five, praising them as the realm's finest crispy delicacy. It's said he even published a cookbook called *Fifty Ways to Cook Two-Legged Sheep*."