A mass of footsteps stopped outside the house, and the frightened old man gripped his carrying pole tightly.
He had once used this pole to drive off three wolves, becoming a local celebrity. Now, simply holding it filled him with boundless courage.
"Young man, once that door opens, I'll knock a few of them down. Then we'll split up and run."
The old man braced as though facing a formidable enemy, keeping his eyes fixed on the villagers beyond the crack in the door.
"Uncle, put down the pole," Du Yu said. "I have a way to deal with those immortals."
"Hmm?" The old man turned to glance at Du Yu. "Young man, are you serious?"
"I am." Du Yu nodded solemnly. "If I lied to you, I'd only be digging my own grave. Don't worry."
Hearing this, the old man drew back his pole, half convinced and half doubtful. Ever since he had met this young man, all sorts of baffling things had happened. And the more he looked at him, the more familiar he seemed. Could his ancestors be watching over him?
As soon as the door opened, the villager from earlier spotted the pole in the old man's hands.
"Oh! What are you doing?" The villager gave a rueful smile and hurried over to grab the pole.
The old man was bewildered. "Huh? What're you doing? We can talk this out! Don't snatch my pole!"
As the two tugged back and forth, more villagers crowded around and practically joined forces to wrest the pole away.
The scene left Du Yu rather confused as well. Why were so many people suddenly fighting over a carrying pole?
The villager took the pole and, panting, placed it behind his back. "You're our guests. You mustn't help us with our work.