The barge drew steadily alongside the bank.
The river wind was cold, but it could not blow away the warmth gathering on shore.
That spectacle of a filial son lifting a coffin to battle three corpses had shaken everyone present to the soul.
Qin Geng stood at the bow, his mourning clothes snapping in the river wind. The black blood spattered across them had yet to dry.
Far from looking bedraggled, he radiated a fierce, heroic air that made people afraid to meet his gaze.
The men on shore, young and old, no longer cared that the Water Corpses were bad luck.
Every one of them craned his neck toward the boat, gazing at him as though he were Lord Guan in his temple.
Several storytellers who usually performed in teahouses were so excited their beards trembled. Their battered folding fans banged against the railing.
"Magnificent! That was absolutely magnificent!"
A goateed storyteller pulled a little notebook from his sleeve and gestured wildly at the people beside him, spittle flying. "Forget Three Heroes and Five Gallants. Starting tomorrow, I'm telling 'Fifth Master Qin Subdues Three Corpses on the Tianjin River and Xun River'!"
"Did you see him lift that coffin with one hand? That was the fortune of King Wen pulling a cart eight hundred paces! The might of Weituo subduing demons!"
"Fifth Master carried filial devotion to its very peak today."
Someone nearby chimed in. "Exactly! He risked his life for an old man who wasn't even kin. He kept that coffin off the ground through it all. If anyone in Tianjin dares say Fifth Master isn't an honorable man after this, I'll slap his ears off!"
The talk bubbled up like water at a rolling boil.
Qin Geng paid no heed to such empty fame.
The large hand