Today's Spending Is on the Village Chief

Lin Qing'er was roused by the commotion and got up, rubbing her eyes.

She threw on an outer robe and walked to the kitchen doorway in straw sandals. At a glance, she saw hot water boiling on the stove, the corpse of a large yellow dog lying on the ground, and Feng Chen crouching beside it with his sleeves rolled up and a knife in hand.

She rubbed her eyes again, somewhat surprised. "Husband, when did you catch another dog?"

Feng Chen did not stop what he was doing or raise his head. "Just now. This thing kept prowling around our door, so I caught it."

He naturally brought up what he had told Lin Qing'er yesterday about his improved hunting skills, making it sound entirely plausible.

Lin Qing'er did not grow suspicious. Instead, she smiled.

She crouched beside him, rolling up her sleeves to reveal a slender stretch of wrist. "All right, then we'll eat dog meat tomorrow. I'll help you prepare it. Two people will be faster."

The two of them got to work together.

Feng Chen skinned the dog while Lin Qing'er helped beside him, holding down its legs and passing him water.

Her fingers moved with nimble efficiency.

Before long, the dog had been cleaned, its innards removed, its hide peeled off intact, and its flesh revealed as firm and dark red.

She then carefully rubbed it down with coarse salt for preservation, lest it spoil.

Afterward, Feng Chen fetched a bucket of cool water to wash the blood stench and sweat from his body, then changed into clean clothes.

Lin Qing'er washed her hands as well, and the two returned to their room to rest.

When they lay down, the moon outside was shining bright.

Feng Chen let out a long breath, and every inch of his muscles gradually loosened.

Liu Dagang was dead. Tiger Liu was dead. The hatred that had accumulated in his heart for years had been wiped clean in one stroke tonight.

From tomorrow onward, he could live only for a better life.

Early the next morning, East Mountain Ridge had only just turned pale with the first light of dawn, while birds chirped outside the courtyard wall.

The two washed up together. Breakfast was coarse-grain porridge, pickled radish strips, and last night's leftover wild chicken bone soup—simple, but satisfying.

After breakfast, Lin Qing'er slung a bamboo basket over her back and said she was going to tend the fields and gather some wild vegetables along the way.

Feng Chen adjusted the straps of her basket and smiled. "Be careful. You won't need to work this hard anymore. Our family doesn't lack food now. Our days will only get better and better."

Lin Qing'er tipped up her face with a smile. "I know, Husband. But I still want to do it. I want to contribute something to our home."

Her tone was earnest, carrying a stubbornness that regarded the word home as more important than anything else.

Feng Chen did not urge her further. He patted her shoulder and told her to return early.

He also said that he was going to town today.

Lin Qing'er was a little puzzled—hadn't he gone just yesterday? But she did not ask further, only saying, "Husband, you be careful too."

The two parted at the courtyard gate.

Feng Chen took the small path outside the village, once again avoiding Green Mountain Village.

Halfway there, he stopped on a hillside and looked back. Sunlight blanketed the village, while Liu Dagang's courtyard gate remained tightly shut, showing no sign of anything unusual.

What happened last night would most likely be discovered soon, but he did not care.

His face covering had been wrapped tight, he had taken side paths both coming and going, and the night had been dark with a strong wind—not even a wild bird had witnessed it.

In this remote mountain village with no surveillance, no coroners, and no constables, no one would know it was him.

He turned and quickened his pace toward Green Mountain Town.

More than a thousand taels in banknotes and over a hundred taels in loose silver sat in his pocket, heavy with the weight of money.

But silver would not breed on its own. Only by spending it could it become strength.

He had previously read books on Martial Artist knowledge, and the records had made it very clear!

To advance from an ordinary person into a Martial Artist of the Body Tempering Realm required vast amounts of meat and Blood-Qi Medicinal Herbs as support.

The essence of the Body Tempering Realm was to temper the sinews, bones, skin, and flesh, filling the body with qi and blood. During a breakthrough, the body's qi and blood would be rapidly depleted. Without replenishing it beforehand, one could suffer depleted qi and blood and an unstable realm at best, or damage one's foundation and find it impossible to advance another inch at worst.

Besides, today's spending was on the village chief.

As he traveled and calculated, bolstered by the Perfect Basic Movement Technique, he reached Green Mountain Town in barely over half an hour.

The town was already bustling in the morning. All the shops had opened, cloth banners snapped in the wind, peddlers carrying shoulder poles squatted on the street to set up stalls, and steamed buns and flatbreads sent white vapor billowing into the air, mingling with the fragrance of sesame pancakes and the oily smoke of fried dough sticks.

He went straight to Hall of Benevolent Relief, the largest pharmacy on the main street.

Its two vermilion wooden doors were studded with brass nails. Behind the counter, an entire wall of medicine drawers bore labels with herb names, and a bitter medicinal fragrance filled the air.

The moment he entered, a gray-robed shop assistant came forward. Feng Chen directly asked for Blood-Qi Medicinal Herbs used by Martial Artists.

The assistant brought out three samples and introduced them. A low-grade portion cost ten taels and contained herbs aged three to five years, the basic variety; a mid-grade portion cost twenty taels and contained seven-year-old herbs, with fifty percent stronger effects; a high-grade portion cost thirty taels and contained old herbs more than ten years old, along with Blood-Qi Herb from deep within the Black Mountain Range, making its medicinal potency fierce.

Feng Chen considered it briefly, then directly asked for three high-grade portions.

The assistant froze for a moment, clearly not expecting this young man in plain cloth garments to spend so lavishly. Then his face broke into a wide smile as he turned to prepare the medicine.

The three portions were wrapped neatly in yellow paper, covered in oil paper, and tied tight with fine hemp string, costing ninety taels in total.

He handed over a hundred-tael banknote, and the assistant returned ten taels in loose silver.

Once he put away the herbs, his heart settled somewhat.

He then took another hundred-tael banknote to Datong Bank and exchanged it for cash silver.

The bank had a solid facade, thick wooden doors, and high stone steps. Behind the counter, an old accountant turned the banknote over and examined it three times before finally nodding and exchanging it for loose silver and copper coins.

He first went to the butcher's shop and bought twenty taels' worth of meat.

One tael of silver bought six catties of meat. He purchased pork hind legs, sheep spine bones, and an entire fresh rack of beef ribs—one hundred catties in all—packing them into several burlap sacks. The butcher helped tie them tightly, hefted their weight, and gave him a thumbs-up.

With the remaining money, he went to the blacksmith's shop and bought two handy short knives. They were forged from refined iron, their blades sharpened on both edges, their hardwood handles wrapped in fine hemp cord. They were several grades better than the firewood chopper at home and cost ten taels.

He also bought everyday necessities such as firewood, rice, oil, and salt, as well as a new pair of shoes for Lin Qing'er!

The soles of her old shoes had nearly worn through to her feet.

He finally stopped only after spending the entire hundred taels.

Then, carrying large and small packages, with sacks of meat slung over his shoulders and two brand-new short knives tucked at his waist,

Having bought nearly everything he needed, Feng Chen left Green Mountain Town while looking over the bustling settlement, pondering in his mind,

Next time, he could come stay in town for a while too.

In Green Mountain Village.

The first person to seek out Liu Dagang was the villager Zhao Laosan, who wanted the village chief to judge a dispute over a field ridge.

He knocked and pounded at the door for a long time without receiving an answer. When he peered through the crack, he saw large patches of dark liquid in the courtyard, and the smell was wrong.

He pushed the door. It was unlocked and opened at once.

The courtyard was drenched in blood.

Liu Dagang and his wife lay sprawled by the threshold, one across it and the other crooked beside it. A broad pool of dried, black blood streaked the bluestone slabs, and the bloody stench hit him full in the face.

Zhao Laosan let out a scream as if torn apart. "Come quick! The village chief is dead!"

Half the village was alarmed. People crowded around the courtyard entrance, craning their necks to peer inside. Some sucked in cold breaths, some covered their children's eyes, and some turned and ran away to dry heave.

Liu Dagang's head had rolled off to one side. Both had been killed by sharp blades, the strikes clean and decisive, the wounds deep and even. At a glance, it was clear that no ordinary person could have done this.

Yet many faces showed no grief. Instead, they revealed barely concealed delight at his misfortune.

People whispered among themselves, unable to suppress the upward curl of their lips.

"Just who did the village chief offend to get dealt with so cleanly?"

A middle-aged man carrying a hoe muttered to his neighbor.

"Exactly. Over the years, which household wasn't docked thirty percent whenever they paid grain taxes? And the land matters—how many families' deeds did he tamper with?"

An old woman sighed, her voice hoarse. "It wasn't just dirty money. He even trafficked the daughters of several families to brothels in town."

"The Zhang Household's girl was only thirteen last year. He said he was sending her to town for a good job, but she never came back."

"Old Zhang searched for half a month without even catching a glimpse of her shadow. When he returned, he fell ill. Is that even a village chief? That's a—"

Someone beside her quickly jabbed her with an elbow, and only then did the old woman stop herself.

"He must have gone too far and drawn someone to his door. Who knows how many desperadoes live in the Black Mountain Range?"

"Then should we report it to the authorities?" someone asked timidly.

"They can't be bothered. The town constables only come a few times a year, and it takes a full day to travel back and forth. What could they possibly investigate by the time they arrive?"

An old hunter folded his arms and pointed his chin toward the courtyard. "He seems to have two sons outside the village. I heard Liu Teng studies martial arts in town and seems to have become a Martial Artist. Let his son handle this once he returns. Why should we stick our noses into it?"

"Exactly. It's his son's business. Let his son worry about it."

"Let's go, let's go. This sight is too upsetting."

After standing there for a while, the crowd dispersed.

No one collected the bodies, no one reported it to the authorities, and no one even made a trip to town to inform Liu Teng.

They all returned to their own homes and carried on with their lives.

Before leaving, Zhao Laosan silently shut the courtyard gate again.

His hand was still trembling. The door creaked as it closed, sealing the bloody stench inside.

Liu Dagang had sons anyway. What did it have to do with him?

More than half an hour later, Feng Chen returned to the mountain path outside Green Mountain Village.

Carrying several sacks of meat and supplies, he skirted around the village and hurried along the foot of the mountain toward home.

He pushed open the courtyard gate, shut and bolted it behind him, dropped the sacks with a long exhale, and began sorting everything out.

He wrapped the herbs in oil paper and placed them atop a dry cabinet, where they could not get damp.

He salted most of the hundred catties of meat and hung it from the kitchen beams to air-dry. In no time, the beams were filled with pork legs, sheep bones, and beef ribs, as though he had opened a small butcher's shop.

He placed the two new short knives beneath his pillow, where he could reach them at once.

The new shoes sat on the table, their soles stitched densely and firmly.

Just as he was organizing things, the courtyard gate was knocked on and pushed open.

Lin Qing'er had returned. She shut the gate behind her and slid the bolt into place, breathing rapidly with a flush on her face.

Half her basket was filled with wild vegetables, their leaves gleaming green and still beaded with dew.

When she saw Feng Chen at the kitchen entrance, she set down the basket and hurried over. Stopping before him, she lifted her face, her eyes wide and round, her voice filled with suppressed excitement and a trace of fear.

"Husband, something huge happened in our village!"