Houtang Town

A major incident had occurred at Biluozong: the inner disciple Lu Mo had died. Since he had slipped out in secret, even the disciples guarding the mountain gate had no idea where he had gone or what he had done, leaving them with little to go on in investigating his death.

Sect Master Peng Zide's face was dark as he said in a low voice, "Send a few people to make inquiries at the nearby markets. Also, notify the people at Jade Spring Mountain and the Three Flowers Sect and ask them to help investigate. Keep it quiet. Having an inner disciple killed is nothing to be proud of!"

After lying in the haystack for a day and a night, Xu Qingtong slowly came to. Pain wracked his entire body, making him afraid to move. He had eaten nothing for a day, and his stomach growled incessantly. He shook his head, feeling as though it had swollen even larger.

He closed his eyes and thought back. Everything that had happened in the dream remained vivid, as though it had truly occurred. Perhaps what happened in the dream was real. I really did destroy a cultivator's primordial spirit!

Xu Qingtong tried hard to recall every word Lu Mo had said. Scenes of the cultivation world kept flashing through his mind like pictures.

For a full two hours, Xu Qingtong absorbed everything that had happened in the dream. At last, he reached a conclusion: everything he had heard was true. There really was another world, different from that of ordinary mortals. It existed all around him, yet seemed shrouded in a veil, impossible to see clearly or touch.

Xu Qingtong shifted his body with difficulty. He felt as though he had fallen apart, without a shred of strength left. His wounds burned fiercely, and his empty stomach left him desperate for food. He felt around his clothes, but apart from Lu Mo's storage pouch, he had nothing.

I can't keep wasting away like this. I have to think of something! Xu Qingtong rolled over and slowly crawled out, then leaned against the haystack, gulping down air.

After a while, he spotted an old farmer in the distance, walking toward him with a bamboo basket on his back. Summoning all his strength, Xu Qingtong cried out hoarsely, "Sir, help me!"

Hearing someone call for help, the old farmer looked over. He saw a boy in ragged clothes, covered in wounds, slumped against the haystack. He hurried over, taking two strides where he would normally take three. "Young fellow, what happened to you?"

"Sir, some villains attacked me. I escaped here, but I'm exhausted, hungry, and injured. Please help me," Xu Qingtong replied weakly.

The old farmer came closer and examined him carefully. Seeing that his injuries were not life-threatening, he quickly pulled him up and supported him as they walked step by step back to his home. He asked his wife to fetch a basin of warm water and helped Xu Qingtong wash the blood and grime from his body.

The old farmer fetched a jar from inside the house, dipped some cotton into the reddish-brown medicine within, and applied it to Xu Qingtong's wounds. Xu Qingtong felt a cool sensation, and the pain eased considerably. He thanked the old farmer repeatedly.

While the old farmer helped Xu Qingtong clean his wounds, his wife came out of the house carrying two gray cloth garments. "Child, we don't have any clothes that would fit you. These belonged to our grandson when he was little. Try them on and see if you can wear them."

Xu Qingtong took the clothes and thanked her again. Without worrying about modesty, he stripped off his tattered clothes, which had been reduced to strips, right in front of the old woman and changed into what she had given him. Fortunately, though they were a little old and rather loose, they were much better than the rags that had not even covered his backside.

Once he had tidied himself up, Xu Qingtong ate some of the food the old woman brought him and drank a bowl of piping-hot egg soup. Color slowly returned to his face.

The elderly couple sat nearby, studying the child before them. They had been too busy earlier to look closely. Now they saw that he had fine, clear features and was remarkably handsome. A steadfast resolve showed through his young face, and his composed manners made it plain that he was a well-brought-up child.

"Child, where are you from? What happened to you? And how did you end up here?" the old farmer asked.

Xu Qingtong told the elderly couple everything that had happened to him, leaving nothing out. They sighed deeply after hearing his story. For a ten-year-old child to suffer such a terrible calamity at home-it had been far too much for him to bear. The old farmer then asked what he planned to do, and Xu Qingtong explained that he intended to seek refuge with his uncle in Houtang Town.

"Houtang Town must be four or five hundred li from here," the old farmer said. "With high mountains and such a long road ahead, how could a child like you get there? Why not stay with us for a while and decide what to do once you've recovered?"

Resolve settled over Xu Qingtong's face. "I've already caused you both a great deal of trouble," he said quietly. "I wouldn't dare impose any longer. Please just point me in the right direction, sir. I'll find my own way."

The elderly couple urged him again and again to stay, but Xu Qingtong had made up his mind to leave. He knelt and kowtowed to them, thanking them for saving his life, then took the cornmeal buns the old woman had prepared for him and set out to find his uncle.

Along the way, Xu Qingtong ate in the wind and slept beneath the dew, climbing mountains and fording streams. He rested at night and set off at dawn. Once the buns were gone, he begged for food along the road; when he could find no homes, he picked wild fruit to stave off his hunger. Though the journey was fraught with hardship and danger, it also taught him how to survive in the wilderness.

Houtang Town lay eighty li west of Bingzhou City. It had roughly four or five hundred households, and with the outsiders included, its population totaled a little over two thousand, making it a medium-sized town.

One day, a boy approached along the main road outside town. His gray cloth clothes were slightly too large, his hair was a tangled mess, and his face and body were covered in dirt. It was Xu Qingtong, who had finally arrived after more than ten days on the road.

After entering town, Xu Qingtong rested briefly, then began asking where he could find his uncle. Chen Jialiang was well known in town. He was a skilled physician, generous and kind, charged fair and reasonable fees, and often helped his impoverished neighbors. Thus, there was no one in town who did not know his name. With only a few inquiries, Xu Qingtong learned where his uncle's Spring Rejuvenation Hall was located.

As he neared the Spring Rejuvenation Hall, unease stirred in Xu Qingtong's heart. He had never met his uncle, his mother was gone, and she had left him no token or anything similar. Would his uncle acknowledge him? Would he greet him warmly or coldly? As the saying went, "The nearer home I draw, the more my heart trembles; I dare not ask those coming from there." That was probably how he felt now!

Xu Qingtong hesitantly entered the Spring Rejuvenation Hall and looked around. A square table stood in the middle of the hall. Behind it sat a middle-aged man, taking a young woman's pulse.

To the right of the table stood rows of medicine cabinets, each drawer labeled with the name of a medicinal ingredient. There were hundreds of varieties in all. A screen stood on the left, with a cloth curtain hanging from one end. Behind the curtain, he could vaguely make out a bed.

After surveying the furnishings, Xu Qingtong turned his gaze back to the middle-aged man. He appeared to be about forty-six or forty-seven, with a long, narrow face and a few wisps of beard about an inch long on his chin. His eyes were slightly narrowed, and his expression was kindly.

After taking her pulse, he smiled at the young woman and said, "Your illness is no longer anything serious. Once you get home, boil some ginger soup, add a little brown sugar, and drink it. Be careful not to catch another chill." The young woman rose, thanked him, and left.

Xu Qingtong thought the middle-aged man bore some resemblance to his mother. Remembering her, he could not help feeling his eyes grow moist. Just then, the man raised his head and looked at Xu Qingtong. Seeing that he did not appear to have come for treatment or medicine, he asked, "Young fellow, what can I do for you?"

Could this be my uncle? Xu Qingtong wondered. But he did not dare be too forward, afraid that mistaking someone else for his uncle would make him a laughingstock. He hurried up and said, "May I ask if you are Physician Chen Jialiang?"

"That's me," the middle-aged man replied. "What do you need, young fellow?"

Hearing that the man truly was his uncle, Xu Qingtong could no longer hold back his tears. He dropped to his knees with a thud. "Your nephew Xu Qingtong pays his respects, Uncle!"