Stitching the Sage

Today, a major incident occurred at Shallow Water Pier.

The Canal Gang, who had always thrown their weight around, had taken a beating.

Over two hundred able-bodied young men of the Canal Gang, their faces bruised, their limbs aching, lay sprawled across the dock groaning in pain—all beaten by a single person.

But when asked who had beaten them, every single one looked baffled, saying they only remembered a field of yellow millet.

At the time, Weng Deyan, the boss of the Shallow Water Pier Canal Gang, was furious. The entire gang had been beaten by one person, and after the beating, no one even knew who did it. How humiliating was that? Where was the face of this local power to be found?

Yet none of those little bastards who got beaten could say who did it. Weng Deyan didn't even have the chance to catch the guy, hang him on display in Shallow Water Pier's main street, and reclaim his standing.

All he could do was hire a bunch of idlers to curse in the streets of Shallow Water Pier day and night, from vulgarities about shit and piss to insults reaching eighteen generations of ancestors—nasty enough to make your ears bleed—hoping to provoke the guy into showing himself. But no one ever took the bait.

Within a few days, the story spread through the streets.

The common folk said that Weng Deyan's men had been bullying the locals for years, monopolizing business at Shallow Water Pier, extorting protection fees, docking fees, mooring fees from canal merchants, and committing all sorts of crooked deeds. They had finally angered a "Yellow Millet Immortal" who descended from heaven to punish them.

This "Yellow Millet Immortal" was a deity who, after meting out punishment, returned to the heavens. Mortals could not behold the face of an immortal, so in the end, no one remembered what the god looked like—only that they had seen a field of yellow millet...

And honestly, the common folk, with nothing better to do, spun quite a convincing tale.

Over in the Capital City, the gossip-loving crowd was having a field day, while the Canal Gang's prestige plummeted. Their brand management was a disaster, a massive loss of face, and soon they were the talk of the town. Boss Weng was so angry he couldn't even eat his crab for days.

The other party seemed to possess some sinister skill that made people forget who beat them after taking a thrashing. This not only fueled wild rumors among the commoners but also stirred unease within the Canal Gang itself. Everyone was whispering about ghosts and gods, wondering if they had incurred divine punishment.

But Weng Deyan, having traveled far and wide and seen a bit of the world, knew that the martial arts world was full of strange skills and odd techniques. This was most likely some clever trick of the trade, not any kind of deity.

The problem was, knowing that didn't help. He couldn't find the guy, couldn't kill him and hang him on display at Shallow Water Pier to restore his authority, so the entire Canal Gang had taken a beating for nothing.

The more Boss Weng thought about it, the angrier he got. He didn't know why the guy had targeted the Canal Gang. Was it a personal grudge? Or some kind of conspiracy? Wait... Boss Weng suddenly broke out in a cold sweat. Could it be that the Six Fan School had hired some expert to deal with them?

Yes! That was very likely! No wonder the Four Great Constables had shown up at his place today! They were just stalling him so they could make their move outside! To dismantle his Canal Gang and then search the Fortune-Longevity Paste warehouse. Damn you, Six Fan School!

Weng Deyan felt he had seen through the Six Fan School's scheme and discovered the "truth."

Meanwhile, at the Six Fan School's Divine Constable Hall.

Zhuifeng and Xue Ning stared at the case file before them, which read that a "Yellow Millet Immortal" had appeared at Shallow Water Pier to punish the Canal Gang. They looked utterly bewildered.

What the hell was this?

This Yellow Millet Immortal incident left the entire Shallow Water Pier Canal Gang swallowing a bitter pill, stewing in frustration like they had a mouthful of coptis root while someone pinched their nose and forced them to drink Huoxiang Zhengqi liquid—so bitter they couldn't even speak.

And the culprit behind it all was, of course, Lin Shou.

But Lin Shou insisted that, although the Canal Gang felt like they had eaten something from the five-grain cycle of reincarnation, he really had just wanted to find a place to test his abilities. He meant no harm, but he couldn't rule out a next time.

After all, these lab rats were just too convenient. The test results of the Yellow Millet Dream far exceeded Lin Shou's expectations.

The effect of the Yellow Millet Dream was like a mask that concealed his identity. As long as Lin Shou activated the Yellow Millet Dream, his figure would not remain in anyone's memory.

Everyone who saw him would only remember seeing a field of yellow millet. Everyone who heard his voice would only recall the sound of wind passing through a sea of grain.

The Yellow Millet Dream was like an alternate identity.

When Lin Shou put on this mask, he became the "Yellow Millet Immortal."

With the Yellow Millet Dream active, no matter how wantonly or freely Lin Shou acted—even if he killed or burned, then walked away without a care—once he deactivated the Yellow Millet Dream, no one could find that "Yellow Millet Immortal." He could continue living his peaceful life as Lin Shou.

He could slaughter an entire city today as the Yellow Millet Immortal, then join the chorus condemning the Yellow Millet Immortal tomorrow as Lin Shou.

The lower limit was avoiding social death; the upper limit was being a lawless outlaw beyond the rules. What could be more moving than such a perfect second identity?

So when Lin Shou first obtained the Yellow Millet Dream, he was quite fond of it. It was like opening a secondary account. As a keyboard warrior from the great internet era, he knew well that the most powerful social weapon was the "alternate identity."

Of course, even with such a disguise artifact in hand, Lin Shou still restrained himself, refusing to run wild without limits or cross the bottom line.

Restraint was a virtue of self-cultivation. Constantly crossing one's own bottom line was often a short step away from self-destruction.

Lin Shou carefully tucked away the identity of the "Yellow Millet Immortal," planning how to use it in the future.

When Lin Shou returned to the Corpse-Stitching Shop, it was nearly noon.

Having beaten two hundred people in one morning, he felt completely refreshed. After venting his energy, he slept soundly.

When he woke again, it was dusk. He still had to stitch corpses tonight, and he wondered what surprises awaited.

He went out to grab some food. In a good mood today, Lin Shou bought several bowls of steaming hot tofu pudding from Ning Luowei's Tofu Shop and a few warm roasted sweet potatoes from a nearby stall. He took them to the Examination Hall to treat the men of the Bureau of Corpse Management.

Friendship was built through frequent interaction. He had already secured all the corpse-stitching business at the Examination Hall from the registrar, but to just ignore them afterward? That would be too calculating. When trouble came, you'd realize how hard it was to ask for help. Why not make a few more friends in ordinary times?

At dusk, Lin Shou, carrying a load of food and drink, strolled leisurely to the Examination Hall. Hmm?

From a distance, he saw several clerks from the Bureau of Corpse Management busy at the Examination Hall's entrance. There was a stone statue of Master there, the sage and patron saint of scholars across the land. Students would touch it before exams, praying for success...

This statue of Master had always stood at the Examination Hall's entrance without incident. But today, a carriage happened to pass by. As it neared the gate, the horse spooked for some reason, bolted and scraped against the statue. Crack.

The statue's head had fallen off.

Normally, a damaged statue would be reported to the Ministry of Works to carve a new one. But when the examination supervisor saw it during the day, he said having a headless statue of Master at the entrance was disgraceful. That was the patron saint—you couldn't leave a headless one there; it didn't look right.

So they found someone to mix some paste, stick the statue's head back on, and replace it once the Ministry of Works finished a new one.

When Lin Shou arrived, he saw the clerks busy gluing the statue's head back on.

Lin Shou set down his small cart of food and went over to help. Together, they reattached the statue's head, and everyone was about to share the food Lin Shou had brought.

Lin Shou lingered behind, then suddenly froze.

Buzz—a roar echoed in his ears, and the Record of Selling Corpses appeared in his vision.

Corpse Price: Heaven-Grade Rank Five.