A World Out of Joint

Though being Northerners gave them an added measure of deterrence, Pan Long and the others still did not dare let down their guard that night. They arranged to take turns keeping watch. Han Feng and Li Qiang took the first half of the night, and Pan Long took the second.

Even with someone on watch, Pan Long slept poorly. When they woke him, he felt as though he had only dozed for a little while and was still somewhat sleepy.

But he had a way to solve that problem.

Once Han Feng and Li Qiang were asleep, he stepped out of the carriage and walked a circuit around it. Sure enough, he clearly spotted someone watching from the shadows. Had those villagers who moonlighted as bandits not given up their wicked intentions? Or had they been so frightened that they were trembling as if facing a formidable enemy, with no choice but to leave someone on watch?

He walked around to the back of the carriage, where it blocked every prying gaze from the village. Then he smiled faintly and entered the void world of the Classic of Mountains and Seas Fragment.

In the void world, people did not grow tired or sleepy, hungry or thirsty, and had no other physical needs. But if they entered while tired, sleepy, hungry, or parched... they could decide for themselves whether those conditions persisted.

Pan Long chose, of course, to keep his fatigue.

Lying in the pale, empty void, he closed his eyes and slept soundly.

This time, he did not feel the pressure of loneliness as he had before.

When he woke, he did not practice his martial arts. He chose to return straight to reality.

By now, he more or less understood that he had to use this void world in moderation. He could not stay too long at a stretch or enter too often. Using it to get some rest, as he had just done, or to complete his daily training should be fine.

His intense reaction to the loneliness before had probably come from inexperience on his first visit. He had also failed to take his father's advice to heart and stayed in the void world too long.

Back in reality, his fatigue had indeed vanished without a trace. He felt bright-eyed and full of energy, just as though he had enjoyed a good night's sleep.

No, wait. What do I mean, "as though"? I did enjoy a good night's sleep.

Pan Long smiled and took out the provisions he had brought.

Getting some sleep was all well and good, but now he was a little hungry.

He used his inner force to warm the food, then poured himself some hot water from the pot kept warm on the carriage stove. Sitting on the carriage shaft in the cold night, he ate and drank at his leisure.

Once he had eaten and drunk his fill, he began wandering around again.

In the village, the villagers standing guard were furious to see him looking so carefree.

"What's with that fellow? He doesn't look like he's keeping watch at all... Does he think this is a game?"

"Maybe to him, it is a game."

"Even if Northerners are a fierce lot, this is too arrogant!"

"Exactly! He's far too arrogant! The one on watch earlier wasn't nearly this arrogant. He kept to himself..."

"Damn it! I want to go teach him a lesson!"

"Can you beat him?"

"There are so many of us!"

"And then what? One of them escapes, and in a few months a whole horde of Northerners comes to kill us?"

"Damn it! So what if they have numbers!"

"What kind of nonsense is that? Of course numbers matter. If you had to face him one-on-one, would you dare?"

"Fuck, I really wouldn't..."

None of this reached Pan Long's ears. Otherwise, he probably would have burst out laughing.

As he wandered, the darkness gradually faded, and the eastern sky began to pale.

Once it was light enough to see into the distance and travel safely, Pan Long woke Han Feng and Li Qiang.

Li Qiang immediately went to feed the horse, of course. The draft horse needed a full belly and a little rest before they could set out. Han Feng, meanwhile, said with deep regret, "I can't believe those villagers really didn't come looking for trouble!"

Pan Long smiled. "You actually wanted to fight them?"

"Of course. That's what it means to be a wandering hero who upholds justice!"

"You don't have to set your sights on ordinary villagers to uphold justice."

"They're bandits on the side. It wouldn't be much of an injustice if they got cut down."

Before Pan Long could answer, Li Qiang spoke up. "Young Master Han, the world isn't peaceful these days. Out in the countryside, people who dabble in a bit of trade that costs them nothing whenever they get the chance are everywhere. If you really want to cut them down, I'm afraid you'd have to kill thirty to fifty percent of the villagers across Great Xia's Nine Provinces."

Han Feng was startled. "That many?"

"I may even be underestimating it."

Pan Long was puzzled too. "And what does the Imperial Court make of it?"

"The Imperial Court?" Li Qiang sneered. "They snatch mud from swallows' beaks, scrape iron from needlepoints, scour the Jin from a Buddha's face, and seek something where there's nothing. They hunt peas in a quail's crop, carve lean meat from a heron's legs, and gouge fat from a mosquito's belly... Mountain Man Zhonglu's poem about the ways of those grand officials only grows more apt with every passing year."

Han Feng blinked at Pan Long. Brother Long, what's he talking about? I don't understand.

He's describing the ugly spectacle of corrupt officials squeezing people for all they're worth, Pan Long thought.

You become an official a thousand miles from home for the money. If you don't line your pockets, why become one at all? Han Feng thought.

Pan Long gave a rueful smile but did not answer.

Naturally, Pan Long had heard the verse Li Qiang had quoted. Before the Great Xia Dynasty was founded, an obscure scholar had written it to mock the times and condemn the Imperial Court and powerful landowners for squeezing the lifeblood out of the people. The scholar had later paid for those words with his life, but the verse survived. Great Xia Founder Di Jiazi had liked it so much that he had included it in the Official Academy textbooks.

The Official Academy was later reformed. Much of the textbook content was cut, and much was added. Poems and essays satirizing tyrants and corrupt officials or attacking powerful bullies were stripped away almost entirely, replaced by works praising the wise rulers and worthy ministers of past generations and the splendid prosperity of Great Xia. Yet the satirical works of those lowly scholars, men whose names had never found a place in histories or biographies, had already spread throughout the Nine Provinces of Great Xia.

Like Di Jiazi in his day, scholars among Great Xia's common people loved those works.

They loved them so much that even Li Qiang, a carriage driver, could recite several.

Pan Long remembered how, when he had studied poetry and prose at the Official Academy, he had done so well that his old teacher had brought out a handwritten copy of the First Edition Great Xia Official Academy Textbook, treasured like a precious gem, and given it to him for safekeeping. "You must tell your children and grandchildren the stories in this book," the teacher had urged him. "You must never let them be lost."

"Why?" Pan Long had asked at the time.

The old teacher had raised his head to the sky, tears glimmering faintly in his eyes. "Because every word in here was written with the blood and tears of the countless people who lived in those days!"

"I had the misfortune of being born in these times. To watch the poems in this book slowly begin to match the world outside again... It truly is..."

The old teacher had never finished that thought. He had waved Pan Long away and never spoken of the subject again. Even now, Pan Long did not know what lament had been meant to follow "It truly is."

Perhaps the old teacher himself had not known.

Pan Long shook his head, dispelling those rather heavy memories, and started toward the village.

"Brother Long, what are you going to do? Give them trouble?" Han Feng said happily. "Count me in!"

Pan Long shook his head. "I'm going to pay them."

"Pay them? We didn't buy anything from them. What would we pay for?"

"The provisions they gave us," Pan Long said. "The flatbreads and such aren't worth much, so I'll let those go. But those two pieces of smoked meat must weigh four or five pounds together. Meat isn't cheap. We need to pay for it."

"That was protection money they gave us!" Han Feng said unhappily.

Pan Long turned back and looked at him gravely. "Ah Feng, do you want to spend your life collecting protection money from people?"

Han Feng thought it over, then answered without much confidence. "I think... it wouldn't be so bad? Though I suppose it wouldn't earn me much respect..."

"I don't!" Pan Long said. "I refuse to spend my days glowering at people weaker than me and forcing them to part with what little money they have so I can eat, drink, and amuse myself! I'd rather die!"

Seeing how firm he was, Han Feng pursed his lips and did not argue.

"All right, Brother Long. Whatever you say." Sounding a little aggrieved, he added, "I'll come with you. I'd like to see what their village is like anyway, and how it differs from Dingfeng Town."

The two entered the village, only to find that the villagers treated them like a flood or a savage beast. They kept well out of their way and refused to come near.

Do we Northerners really command that much respect? Han Feng thought.

You call this respect? Pan Long thought.

Of course.

Pan Long sighed and led Han Feng to the largest house in the village.

At their own doorstep, the villagers had nowhere left to hide. An elderly man with white hair and beard, who looked frail and unsteady, came forward trembling. "May I ask... what brings you two brave gentlemen here?"

"We're here to pay for the smoked meat," Pan Long said bluntly. "How much were those two pieces?"

The old man froze, at a loss, and did not dare answer.

"Old man! You've got some nerve! Brother Long asked you a question, and you dare not answer?" Han Feng glared and made as if to roll up his sleeves for a beating.

The old man came to his senses and hurriedly said, "No, no! How could we take money from brave gentlemen like you?"

Han Feng's anger instantly turned to a smile. "Brother Long, you heard him. He said he won't take any money."

Pan Long shook his head. "Northerners only accept gifts from friends. We've never met, and to be honest, I have no wish to befriend you. So let's settle the account properly. If money can resolve it, there's no need to claim a friendship that doesn't exist."

Seeing how firm he was, the old man had no choice but to name a price with great caution.

Pan Long made a quick estimate. The price probably would not even cover the cost.

But he did not deliberately give them extra. He paid what the old man had asked, then left with Han Feng.

He did not want to befriend these people. Why go out of his way to give them more money?

He had come specifically to pay only to make his position clear and give himself a little peace of mind.

Besides... these people might be as silent as cicadas in winter before him and Han Feng, looking utterly pitiable. But who knew what faces they showed to people weaker than themselves?

Pan Long did not possess the divine powers of immortals or Buddhas. If he did, he would have questioned everyone in the village, rooted out the ringleader who had drawn them into banditry, and hanged him at the village entrance as a warning to the rest!

When they returned to the village entrance, Li Qiang had already fed the horse and was watching anxiously for them.

Seeing them return, he breathed a sigh of relief. "Did everything go... smoothly for you two?"

"How could giving someone money not go smoothly?" Han Feng said, his face full of regret. "It's a shame we didn't haggle properly. The price was already quite low, but I think we might have gotten it lower still..."

"Any lower, and you might as well have robbed them!"

"Haha, I was only saying..."

A little while later, the carriage set off again, heading south.

"Brother Qiang, are bandits really so rampant these days that even ordinary villagers take up robbery on the side?"

"More or less. That's what I've seen, anyway."

"...When I went to Yi Province with my parents a few years ago, things weren't this bad!"

"Young Master Pan, you're a formidable martial artist, and your parents even more so. With people like you around, what bandit would dare act out of line? When the Great Xia emperor tours the realm, all he sees is a peaceful, prosperous country too."

Pan Long let out a deep sigh and asked no more.

He felt that perhaps fate really did exist, somewhere beyond sight.

Otherwise, why had he crossed into this world just as the dynasty was entering its middle and later years, with signs of decay growing more apparent by the day?

In times like these... what the Pan Lineage's ancestors had called themselves in jest, a "lineage of Rebels," might truly become reality...