Took On a Follower

Chen Fan tossed the grape skin onto the ground and clapped his hands.

"The mountain's peaceful. Perfect for a vacation."

Seeing how unmoved he was, Zhao De felt the last of his strength drain away.

He closed his eyes and waved a hand, unwilling to say another word.

The steward had been waiting nearby. Seeing this, he hurried forward and bowed to Chen Fan.

"Young master, the carriage is ready."

Chen Fan nodded. Without so much as a glance at the two trembling women in the courtyard, he turned and left.

He showed no reluctance, and said no goodbye.

It was as though he hadn't been kicked out of his home, but was simply going to visit a neighbor.

It was the same carriage and the same road.

A month ago, though, he had been going down the mountain. Now he was going up.

Inside the carriage, Chen Fan leaned against a soft cushion and rested with his eyes closed.

The image of his father Zhao De's utterly despondent face flashed through his mind.

Zhao De thought he was sending him into exile on the frontier, punishing him.

He didn't know that, as far as Chen Fan was concerned, it made no difference at all.

At the Zhao residence, he had fine clothes and exquisite food, with beauties all around him.

At the Azure Yang Temple, he likewise had mountain delicacies and wild game, and lived in peace and ease.

There was no difference in essence.

When the carriage reached the foot of West Mountain, Chen Fan got out.

Zhang San and Li Si followed behind, carrying bags and bundles of luggage.

The steward had prepared all of it: food, clothes, and daily necessities, twice as much as he had brought last time.

He was afraid his young master would suffer any hardship on the mountain.

Chen Fan stepped onto the familiar stone stairs alone.

This time, he was barely even out of breath.

Although he had given up martial arts, the horse stance he had practiced for over half a month had made this frail body just a tiny bit stronger.

The mountain gate came into view.

It was the same two Daoists, Mingfeng and Mingzheng.

The moment they saw Chen Fan, they jolted and stood ramrod straight, like mice spotting a cat.

"Y-Young Master Zhao!"

The two hurried forward, their faces covered in smiles so humble they bordered on fawning.

"What brought you back again?" Mingfeng asked cautiously.

Chen Fan glanced at him.

"What? Am I not welcome?"

"No, no, no! Welcome! The warmest welcome!" Mingfeng shook his head like a rattle drum. "Your return is a blessing for the Azure Yang Temple! A blessing for us lowly ones!"

As he spoke, he deftly took the luggage from Zhang San and Li Si. In his eagerness to serve, he was more of a servant than the Zhao residence's own servants.

Daoist Xuanli also came hurrying over as soon as he heard the news, running until he was out of breath, the fat all over his body jiggling.

"Oh! My dear nephew! My good nephew!"

He rushed up to Chen Fan and seized his hand, looking as excited as if they were reuniting after a long separation.

"You've finally come back! I've missed you to death!"

Chen Fan pulled his hand back, his face impassive.

You probably missed my father's three thousand taels of silver.

"Martial Uncle Liu, my father sent me back to continue my quiet cultivation."

Xuanli froze, then wore a look of understanding.

He had heard about it.

The news that the Black Wind Mountain bandits had named Eldest Young Master Zhao as someone they wanted dead had caused an uproar in Qinghe County. How could he not know?

Now it seemed the county magistrate had been worried, so he had sent his precious son back up the mountain to lie low.

"Of course! Of course!" Xuanli thumped his chest. "Rest assured, dear nephew, you'll be absolutely safe at the Azure Yang Temple! Never mind a few mountain bandits-even if the heavenly king himself came, he could forget about harming a hair on your head!"

As he spoke, he personally led Chen Fan toward the Listening to Bamboo Pavilion.

On the way, he asked, seemingly offhandedly, "Dear nephew, those bandits down the mountain... did the county magistrate take care of them properly?"

"Mm." Chen Fan gave a casual reply. "My father settled it."

Settled it?

Daoist Xuanli rolled those words over in his mind. He had heard that the bandits of Black Wind Mountain were no simple bunch.

For Zhao De to settle things with those bandits, he had probably paid a considerable price.

His attitude toward Chen Fan grew even more respectful.

This was no longer a god of plague. This was the God of Wealth's own son!

The group returned to the Listening to Bamboo Pavilion.

The courtyard had been swept spotless, and the tables and chairs wiped free of dust.

Hearing the commotion, the orange cat poked its head over the roof. When it saw Chen Fan, it actually meowed, then hopped lightly down and rubbed against his trouser leg.

Chen Fan bent down and scratched its chin.

Seeing this, Daoist Xuanli hurriedly gave Mingfeng a meaningful look.

Mingfeng understood immediately and ran off. Before long, he returned with a small plate of fresh fish straight from the kitchen.

Chen Fan placed the fish on the ground, and the orange cat immediately buried its head in it and began to eat.

"All right, everyone out," Chen Fan said, waving a hand.

"Yes, yes." Xuanli bowed and scraped as he withdrew, taking Mingfeng and Mingzheng with him.

Peace and quiet returned to the courtyard.

Chen Fan settled back into the familiar bamboo chair and crossed his legs.

Sunshine, a gentle breeze, a cat.

This damned, decadent feudal society.

So good.

Over the following days, Chen Fan returned to his previous "vacation" routine.

Every day, he slept until he woke naturally, then ate, played with the cat, read, and stared into space.

The meals and snacks Daoist Xuanli sent over every day were a hundred times more refined than before.

Mingfeng and Mingzheng treated Chen Fan like an ancestor, terrified that their service might fall short in the slightest.

One afternoon, Chen Fan was leaning back in his chair, reading the Record of Strange Tales of the Southern Border, which he had dug up from who knew where.

The book described all sorts of strange and unusual Gu worms, as well as local customs and ways of life.

Just as he was engrossed in it, a sudden commotion came from outside the courtyard.

There were shouts of rebuke, pleas for mercy, and the dull thuds of fists and feet striking flesh.

Chen Fan frowned.

The noise was rather irritating.

He put down the book, rose, and walked toward the courtyard gate.

Outside the Listening to Bamboo Pavilion was a small martial arts practice ground.

At that moment, seven or eight outer disciples in gray Daoist robes were surrounding a small, thin figure on the practice ground.

Their leader was a tall young man with a fleshy face. He kicked the small disciple to the ground.

"You blind fool! How dare you dirty Senior Brother Wang's training clothes! I think you're tired of living!"

"I'm sorry, Senior Brother Wang. I didn't mean to..." The small disciple curled up on the ground with his arms over his head, his voice close to tears.

"Didn't mean to?" Senior Brother Wang kicked him again. "I think you did it on purpose! You're new here, and you don't know the first thing about the rules!"

The surrounding disciples laughed and watched the spectacle. Not one of them stepped forward to stop it.

Chen Fan stood at the entrance to the Listening to Bamboo Pavilion, watching the scene.

It was the same familiar, tedious act again.

In Zhao Long's memories, he himself had been the most arrogant star of such scenes.

But he wasn't Zhao Long.

He was Chen Fan.

He could go with the flow and enjoy the life of a pampered young master, but deep down, he looked down on trash who bullied the weak.

He was just about to turn back, unwilling to bother with it.

The young man called Senior Brother Wang seemed to notice him and turned to look.

"Well, if it isn't Eldest Young Master Zhao. What, come out to bask in the sun?"

There was a trace of undisguised contempt in the young man's voice.

Chen Fan recognized him.

Wang Chong was a notorious troublemaker among the outer disciples. It was said that one of his uncles was a steward at the temple, so he was accustomed to throwing his weight around.

The last time Chen Fan had emptied the Scripture Repository, Wang Chong had been the loudest in talking about him behind his back.

Chen Fan ignored him.

But Wang Chong wouldn't let it go. He walked up to Chen Fan and looked him up and down.

"I heard Young Master Zhao was so scared of the bandits that he ran back up the mountain to be a turtle hiding in its shell?"

The disciples behind him burst out laughing.

Chen Fan stopped and finally looked him in the eye.

"Do you need something?"

"No." Wang Chong spread his hands, looking utterly carefree. "It's just that Young Master Zhao has such delicate skin. I thought I'd remind you that the wind on this mountain is much stronger than in your own backyard. Don't let it make you sick."

It was naked provocation.

He couldn't bully the newcomer, so he wanted to make himself feel important at the expense of a "good-for-nothing young master" like him?

How utterly boring.

Chen Fan shook his head and turned to leave.

"Stop!" Wang Chong stepped forward, blocking his path.

"What's wrong, Eldest Young Master Zhao? Scared?" Wang Chong's face was almost pressed against Chen Fan's.

Chen Fan sighed.

Why were there always idiots like this, so eager to stick their faces out for him to slap?

He looked at Wang Chong and suddenly spoke.

"My father just kicked me out of the house."

His voice was calm.

Wang Chong froze for a moment, then burst into even louder laughter.

"Hahaha! So you're a stray dog kicked out of his home! And here I thought..."

His laughter stopped abruptly.

For Chen Fan's next words drifted gently over to him.

"So I'm in a very bad mood right now."

Chen Fan tilted his head and looked at him earnestly.

"I'm wondering whether I should write to my father and have him stop this year's incense money for the Azure Yang Temple."

"Three thousand taels doesn't seem like all that much."

"But it should be enough for my father to make me feel better."

A deathly silence fell over the practice ground.

Everyone's laughter froze on their faces.

The flesh on Wang Chong's face twitched, and his arrogant expression instantly turned to terror and disbelief.

Three thousand taels!

Three thousand taels again!

He stared fixedly at Chen Fan, as though trying to find some sign on his face that he was joking.

But there was none.

Chen Fan's expression was as calm as if he were talking about a matter of no consequence.

"Y-you... you wouldn't dare!" Wang Chong's voice was hoarse, utterly devoid of confidence.

"See if I dare." Chen Fan smiled.

Just then, a plump figure came scrambling over.

"Stop! All of you, stop!"

Daoist Xuanli finally arrived. Seeing the confrontation, with swords drawn and crossbows cocked, he was scared out of his wits.

He rushed up to Wang Chong and swung his arm in a wide arc, slapping him.

"Smack!"

It rang out crisp and loud.

"You bastard! What are you trying to do? Rebel?" Daoist Xuanli pointed at Wang Chong's nose and unleashed a torrent of abuse. "Get on your knees and apologize to Young Master Zhao!"

The slap had left Wang Chong stunned. Clutching his face, he stared at Xuanli in disbelief.

Xuanli kicked him in the knee.

"Kneel!"

Wang Chong dropped to his knees before Chen Fan with a thud.

Chen Fan didn't even look at him.

He walked up to the scrawny disciple who had been beaten and held out his hand.

"Get up."

The disciple stared at him blankly, unable to react for a moment.

Chen Fan simply hauled him to his feet.

"What's your name?"

"Zhang... Zhang Shan..." the disciple answered timidly.

Chen Fan nodded, then turned to look at Wang Chong, who had been scared senseless, and the group of outer sect disciples.

He gestured to Zhang Shan beside him.

"From today on, he's one of my people."

"From now on, he's my underling-Zhao Long's underling."

Chen Fan's voice wasn't loud, but it reached everyone's ears clearly.

"Anyone who dares lay another finger on him will be making an enemy of me, Zhao Long."

He paused and looked around.

"If you make an enemy of me, Zhao Long, I wouldn't dare do anything to you."

"But my father would probably be delighted to throw you and your families out of Qinghe County together."

With that, he paid the others no further attention and spoke to Zhang Shan beside him.

"What are you standing there for?"

"Go brew me a pot of tea!"