Offering Condolences

Lü Zhong looked at Meng Zhao, his clouded eyes full of heartache, and said,

"Young Master, I know you have suffered a grievance this time, but rest assured.

If the Family Head does not give our second branch a reasonable resolution in this matter,

then even if this old servant must stake his life, I will seek justice for you."

Seeing this, Meng Zhao shook his head repeatedly. With a gentle smile, he soothed him, saying,

"It is nowhere near as serious as Uncle Zhong says. Not to mention that Eldest Uncle's stance is not yet clear—even if he chooses to smooth things over,

this grievance is nothing to me.

Could it possibly compare to the grievance of spending ten years with a blue lamp and an ancient Buddha, chanting scriptures and praying for blessings?"

Once those words were spoken, Lü Zhong and Lü Yue, father and son, looked even more sorrowful.

Yes, compared to that prisoner-like life, what did the present troubles amount to?

After composing himself, Meng Zhao did not forget the true reason he had come here. He said,

"Uncle Zhong, make arrangements shortly. I want to meet the families of those guards who died, give them some silver as a token of my feelings. Also, I intend to take a look around this estate and properly enjoy the pastoral scenery."

Lü Zhong naturally understood that Meng Zhao was doing this to win people's hearts and establish himself. He was deeply gratified.

"Good, good. By doing this, Young Master has not let down those who shed their heads and spilled their hot blood for the Meng Family. If they know of it in the netherworld, they will surely be endlessly grateful to you."

In truth, what happened to the dead was not important, and Meng Zhao did not need their gratitude.

What he truly cared about was whether the living would be willing to lay down their lives for him. That was the purpose behind his generous treatment of these dead men's families.

It was like certain modern companies: even as they squeezed their employees for all they were worth, they still put on a show of humane concern.

In short, once this was done, it would send a message to everyone else: risking one's life for Meng Zhao was worthwhile.

At the very least, their families would receive good care after their deaths. In this high-martial world akin to a feudal society, that was also a common way of thinking.

"As for that man who fed at our table while helping outsiders loot the estate, Uncle Zhong, put some effort into it and dig him out as quickly as possible. I want to use his head to honor the spirits of those who died."

When Meng Zhao mentioned the guard who had betrayed them and faked his death to escape, his tone remained steady, but he could not suppress his Killing Aura at all.

If not for that bastard's filthy schemes, why would he be dealing with these troubles now?

Lü Zhong took a puff from his tobacco pipe and said solemnly,

"Rest assured, Young Master. Ever since this old servant learned that he was connected to Sun Chuanshan, I have been sending people to investigate his whereabouts. The moment there is news, we will certainly seize him at once and bring him to you for disposal."

Killing that man was not only to honor the dead, but also to warn the others that traitors came to no good end.

A quarter of an hour later, Meng Zhao changed into mourning clothes and tied a strip of black cloth around his right arm. Accompanied by Lü Zhong and Lü Yue, and watched by the people of the estate, he visited the families of those who had died that night one by one.

He offered them a considerable sum of silver and his condolences, promising to raise their children and settle their futures.

Most of those guards had little prospect to begin with. They knew some martial arts, but only to a limited extent.

After spending a long time on the estate, any lofty ambitions or thoughts of pursuing martial cultivation to fight for a future had long been worn away.

Settling down, marrying, having children, and spending the rest of one's life here was also perfectly ordinary.

Meng Zhao also personally visited several wounded guards, promising them generous rewards. They were overwhelmed with gratitude.

After all, they were still alive, and Meng Zhao, the true master of the second branch, had come to offer condolences despite being injured himself. What more could they ask for?

Whether this was merely a performance did not matter at all.

What mattered was that everyone obtained what they wanted.

The wounded received generous rewards, the dead men's families received promises and no longer needed to worry about their future lives after losing the pillar that held up their homes, while Meng Zhao gained the reputation he wanted.

By the time everything had been dealt with, it was already around the end of the Hour of Wei and the beginning of the Hour of Shen, roughly three in the afternoon by modern reckoning.

After visiting those families, Meng Zhao's interest did not diminish. Accompanied by Lü Zhong and Lü Yue, father and son, he continued touring the estate, which was brimming with life.

Along the way, he saw sights he had not noticed before.

At the other end of the estate stood buildings such as a mill, a brewery, an oil press, and livestock pens. They allowed the people within the estate to be self-sufficient while also generating income for Meng Zhao.

There was also a fish pond at the eastern end of the estate. The Big Green Fish within were all plump and sturdy. Meng Zhao's dinner menu tonight would certainly include Big Green Fish.

As they walked and paused along the way, Meng Zhao and the others gradually felt better. In such a farm estate full of everyday life, every breath of air they drew and every inch of earth they crossed carried the scent of nature. It was difficult to remain in a bad mood.

Whenever he happened upon a few children with horn-shaped braids, Meng Zhao would kindly pat their little heads. This was all part of his power: the land was, and so were the people.

He had only been in the Meng Family for a few short days in place of the real Meng Zhao, yet he had already deeply understood what cultivation resources meant to a martial artist.

"Poor scholars, rich warriors" was somewhat crude; "wealth, companions, methods, and land" was more precise.

However, when they arrived before a stretch of land covered in charred blackness, with an unpleasant burnt smell hanging in the air,

all of Meng Zhao's ease vanished without a trace, replaced by surging fury.

His sword-like brows drew together, and his left hand moved the Jade Prayer Beads ever more urgently, clearly revealing the turmoil in his heart.

This was the estate's most important source of income: the Medicine Field. Many precious medicinal herbs were cultivated and planted within it, bringing Meng Zhao a considerable income every year.

What was a Medicine Field?

Before coming to the estate, Meng Zhao had specifically looked into it. According to the books, it was excellent soil containing a rare, special spiritual essence that could promote the growth of medicinal properties. It was extremely precious; calling it a hen that laid golden eggs would not be an exaggeration in the slightest.

In particular, some of the herbs grown on his estate contained enormous amounts of vital essence. They were especially sought after by martial artists and were of great help in replenishing the body's depletion. This made the Medicine Field's exceptional quality all the more rare and difficult to find.

Compared to it, the Herbal Ingredients in the two warehouses, which could be replenished, seemed insignificant instead.

It was also Lü Yue's first time here. Seeing such a scene, he was equally furious.

His round face tightened, his large eyes seeming ready to spit fire. Clenching his fists, he said angrily,

"If Sun Chuanshan wanted to rob the place, it would have been enough to take the Herbal Ingredients. Why did he have to burn down the Medicine Field too?"

That question was actually quite unreasonable.

What those bandits did was precisely this sort of burning, killing, and plundering.

One could not expect them to be like great philanthropists, carefully protecting the Medicine Field to prevent losses.

Perhaps Lü Zhong had weathered too many storms, or perhaps he had already seen this many times. He showed no particular emotion and merely said flatly,

"These thirty mu of Medicine Field are the highest-quality and most precious fields on our estate. All the medicinal herbs supplied to martial artists for their training consumption come from here.

Now that a single fire has destroyed them, this Medicine Field is completely ruined."

Meng Zhao felt some pain in his heart and asked,

"Is there no way to restore it?"