Changing Tides

Dawn had just broken.

Wei He rolled over and sat up in bed.

His face was weary, his forehead drenched in sweat, and the nerves and blood vessels at his temples throbbed.

"It's been so long since I last dreamed. I never expected to dream of things from before."

When he recalled the many events of his previous life, they now felt separated by a sheet of blurry glass, like flowers in the mist and the moon reflected in water—impossible to see clearly.

Yet every scene from this life seemed like a videotape, vivid and distinct, ready to be recalled at any moment.

He did not know whether it was because his flourishing vitality and blood allowed him to retain more details, or for some other reason.

Throwing back the covers, he got out of bed. He quickly drew water from the vat, grabbed the cold water to wash himself, then changed into a fresh set of clothes.

Wei Ying was already making breakfast in the kitchen.

Under Wei He's firm insistence, the two of them had established the habit of eating breakfast every day.

One had to know that ordinary families had no means to eat breakfast. In these times, most people were fortunate enough just to fill their stomachs.

Eating only one meal a day was commonplace, much less having three meals.

Fortunately, Wei He occasionally brought back game from hunting. The mountain forests were strange as well: though drought had struck time and again, the woods remained neither fully alive nor fully dead, their yellow-green grass and trees standing stubbornly upright.

Animals and game could still occasionally be found scattered through them, hiding away.

Wei He did not know why, but because of this, he could occasionally get some game, so he could not be bothered to think too much about it.

"They say Daoist Mingxian is giving a sermon today. Lots of people are planning to go listen. Little He, I want to go too. Is that okay?" Wei Ying held a coarse-grain steamed bun she had made herself and looked at him expectantly.

"Like that sermon last time? The kind with lots of people?" Wei He asked, lowering his head to stuff a strip of meat into his mouth.

"Mm. But... there were lots of people last time. This time, there might not be." Wei Ying answered with some emotion.

"Can you even understand it? I couldn't understand a word that Daoist was saying," Wei He asked.

"I don't understand it. But they hand out food," Wei Ying replied, widening her eyes.

"...Then don't join the commotion over such a little bit of food. Our family doesn't lack that anymore," Wei He refused.

"All right. That's true."

After breakfast, as Wei Ying cleared away the bowls and chopsticks, she mentioned something.

"Oh, right, Little He. Yesterday, I heard from Master Zheng that someone recently did something strange over in Hongshi Town."

"Something strange?"

"Mm. Apparently, that person pressed a huge chunk of iron ore atop a pile of dried meat and said that whoever could lift the stone could take the meat for themselves." Wei Ying spoke in a casual, chatty tone, as though she found it quite interesting.

Wei He, however, was stunned when he heard it.

"And then?"

"Then lots of people went up and tried, but none of them could move it.

"In the end, a man named Xu Ran stepped forward and lifted the ironstone with both hands. He raised it easily, even though no one else could do anything with it, then took the meat away."

Wei Ying praised him, then added, "The person who put out the meat invited Xu Ran to his home as a guest and treated him to a huge feast. The next day, he came back and started putting stones on meat again. This time, it was heavier than before. Whoever could lift it could take the meat. Little He, do you want to go try?"

In Wei Ying's heart, her younger brother had risen step by step through martial arts cultivation. He was an incredibly formidable person anyway. Lifting a stone should not be a problem for him, right?

Wei He truly sensed that something was off.

He was different from ordinary people; his horizons and experience were different. The instant he heard this, he understood.

Someone was building momentum and making a name for himself!

What was the purpose of gaining fame? Nothing more than drawing attention.

Whose attention?

The Seven Families Alliance, Hong Family Fort, and the attention of even more ordinary people.

Only with fame would one have a chance to climb high and give a single cry, answered by crowds of followers. Only then could one display one's talents and earn the invitation and esteem of those in high places.

This method was called self-recommendation.

Of course, there was another possibility: it could be a method used by a major force to select talented people from among the common folk.

But if a major force were acting, it should not be this crude.

Wei He suddenly felt an impulse. Every day, he either practiced martial arts cultivation or practiced martial arts cultivation, then went home, hunted, and killed people. He had almost no other entertainment.

Now that Second Sister had brought it up, he suddenly wanted to see how she usually passed her time.

Although the nearby Huishan Fist Academy helped keep watch, it would still be best to carefully investigate any possible hidden dangers.

With that thought, he rose and swiftly returned to his room. He carefully equipped himself, then thoroughly asked his Second Sister, Wei Ying, about her usual routes.

Only then did he open the door and stride away.

After leaving home, he did not head toward Huishan Fist Academy. Instead, he walked in the opposite direction, toward the town market.

The Shiqiao Town market only opened for one shichen in the morning. If one did not arrive early, everything would soon be snatched up.

Wei He hurried toward the market along the street.

All along the way, he could see that the closer he came to the market, the more men and women in all kinds of clothing he encountered, carrying various containers as they hurried toward it.

Some of them were dressed in rags, while others were fairly clean and tidy, but they shared one thing in common: none of them were dressed richly.

Even the best dressed among them were merely neat, with a few patches.

Wei He's clean, fitted outfit made him stand out somewhat in the crowd instead.

But he did not care. All this time, he had never realized that so many living people could emerge from the quiet, dilapidated houses lining the roadside.

He had nearly begun to think there was no one left in the Outer City.

But the thin, malnourished people who now emerged one after another allowed him to feel the particular bleakness of this era.

Soon, after passing a stretch of gray single-story houses, he saw several stone steles ahead. The words "Vegetable Market" were written on them in black.

The steles stood one after another in a row, blocking off the broad vacant lot behind them.

Only a very narrow entrance had been left for people to pass through.

A group of burly men in black stood guard at the entrance, short sabers in hand, looking quite intimidating.

"Line up! Go in one at a time! No shoving!" shouted orders rang out without pause.

Wei He approached and stood outside the stone steles, watching the crowd file in bit by bit before beginning their transactions in front of the vegetable and meat stalls scattered across the open lot.

"Who are these men in black?" He grabbed a thin young man and asked.

The man glanced at Wei He. He had intended to flare up, but after seeing his build and bearing, he had no choice but to suppress the anger in his heart and answer quietly.

"They're heroes from the Tongcheng Gang. It costs nothing to go in, but when you leave, no matter what you bought or traded for, you have to give them one-tenth. That's the rule of this vegetable market."

"One-tenth?" Wei He understood.

Releasing the man, he did not enter. Instead, he turned and hurried toward the next place.

Every day, Wei Ying first came here to buy vegetables, then went to the oil shop to buy oil. Sometimes she would also visit the cloth shop, and only then would she return home to filter water, cook, wash clothes, and clean the house.

Wei He left the vegetable market along the street and soon arrived at the oil shop.

There were only two oil shops. Many people were lined up outside, and each shop had opened only a narrow door less than a meter wide, barely enough for one person to enter or leave at a time.

The people buying oil here were much better dressed and more spirited than those at the vegetable market.

There were far fewer patches on their clothes as well.

Wei He walked around once, and wherever he went, the people there lowered their heads and did not dare look at him.

He stood one meter eighty-five, his entire body packed with muscle. Added to the fact that he had killed quite a few people and prey animals, he looked like someone not to be trifled with.

Others did not even dare cast him a second glance.

After circling around, Wei He headed toward the cloth shops.

Once he left the short street where the oil shops stood, the houses on both sides of the road gradually became cleaner.

Clearly, people swept them regularly.

Occasionally, he could see burned incense stubs stuck in the dirt beside the road.

Some doors even bore fresh paintings of door gods and fortune-bringing generals, while some people had pasted up couplets they had written themselves.

The stretch from the oil shops to the cloth shops was not long, but there were quite a few stores along it.

This was precisely when the market was in full swing, and the various shops had all opened their doors.

It was Wei He's first time seeing such a bustling scene. At this hour, he was usually at Huishan Fist Academy, training hard in Skin Grinding. How could he ever have seen such liveliness?

The last time he had seen such a bustling sight had been before he began practicing martial arts cultivation.

Now, caught up in the novelty, Wei He looked around, examining the shops that were still open.

Though he had not counted carefully, only around ten shops had opened. They merely looked numerous because they were spread out sparsely.

But there was no stopping the flood of people.

Once there were enough people, the place looked lively. From jewelry to bamboo weaving, chairs to medicinal herbs, farming tools and more, everything was available.

Yet after making a round, Wei He discovered that these shops all sold miscellaneous household goods.

They appeared to be items bought cheaply from various families.

Many of them still bore traces of their former domestic use.

His heart stirred, and he began wandering around the area.

There were also people setting up stalls beside the shops, seemingly selling things taken from their own homes.

At every stall, a large straw mat was spread on the ground, covered with pots, bowls, ladles, chairs, stools, pillows, quilts, combs, hairpins, and all manner of other things.

Wei He stopped in front of one stall, crouched down, and lightly picked up a small wine cup.

The cup was white porcelain and looked very clean. A branch of Hongmei was painted on its exterior.

"A set of twelve wine cups. One jin of coarse-grain flour, and they're yours," the stall owner said listlessly.

Wei He put down the cup and swept his gaze across the stall.

Soon, his attention settled on a heap of messy books.

The books looked as though rats or something else had gnawed them into tatters. They were in a truly sorry state.

He picked one up and flipped through it. They were all materials about the rules and examinations for the Martial Champion Martial Examination.

"These books were my late father's treasured collection. There are fifteen in the pile. Though some are missing, how about ten jin of coarse-grain flour?" When the stall owner saw Wei He touch the books, he immediately seemed to sense hope.

The books were the most valuable things at his stall. If he had not truly run out of options, he would never have wanted to put them up for sale.

But his wife and children were still waiting at home for rice to go into the pot. If he kept hoarding them, then by the time people starved to death, these things would still belong to someone else.

Wei He flipped through them. Though they contained no martial arts cultivation methods or instruction in techniques, they did mention some related anecdotes and knowledge.

So he bargained with the man and traded the four small strips of dried meat he carried for the bag of books.

The four small strips of dried meat were his day's ration, carried to supplement his nutrition. They were not his staple food, and did not even amount to half a jin.

After all, these were difficult times, and he had to eat sparingly as well. Yet even so, the stall owner was extremely satisfied.

If he took these hard, dried meat strips home and sliced off a little at a time with a knife to mix into porridge, they could sustain them for quite a while longer.

Eating coarse grains alone simply did not stave off hunger.