In Zhu Xian, people start to rise from plundering entries

Chapter 805 Lu Xueqi and Biyao

"Okay, it still hurts a little." The little girl clenched her fist. "When I grow up and learn magic, I'll send anyone who tries to steal my things flying!"

Su Han laughed at her words: "Then you'd better study hard."

"Uncle Su, do you know magic?"

This question made Su Han hesitate for a moment. He looked into the little girl's clear, bright eyes, which reflected his image cleanly. In the end, he neither nodded nor shook his head, but simply said, "A little bit."

"How much is 'a little bit'?"

"About... enough to knock someone over."

The little girl pouted: "That's not impressive enough."

“That's definitely not enough.” Su Han stood up, brushing the dirt off his knees. “What's your name?”

"My name is Shitou'er (Stone). My father said that girls should be as hard as stones, unyielding to wind and rain."

"Stone, what a good name." Su Han took two steps towards the inn, then turned back and said, "Go back and tell your father that no one should be causing trouble in the valley these next couple of days."

Stone blinked: "Really? How did you know?"

"Just guessing." Su Han waved to her, then turned and left.

It was almost dark when he returned to the inn. Manager Chen wasn't at the counter; only the waiter was dozing at the table. Su Han tiptoed upstairs, closed the door, placed his bundle on the bed, and then sat cross-legged on the bed to regulate his breathing for fifteen minutes. He tested the flow of spiritual energy within his body; everything was normal. The power that had once "self-condensed into light in his palm" on the battlefield lay quietly dormant deep within his dantian, like a sleeping dragon coiled up, its breathing steady, its scales warm and smooth.

He took out Xuan paper and brush from his bundle and continued copying the "Heavenly Gang Righteous Qi Manual" by the light of the oil lamp. He copied it faster tonight than last night, the brush tip scratching across the paper as line after line of characters flowed from his pen. When he reached the line "Righteous Qi flows freely, Heaven and Earth flow together," he suddenly stopped, looked up, and glanced out the window.

The moonlight outside the window was beautiful. A full moon hung above the crimson hills, illuminating the rust-colored rocks as if they were plated with silver. The direction of the valley entrance was quiet; there was no one in sight and no sound. But his intuition detected an unusual fluctuation—something was trembling very slightly in the night sky between the moon and the hills, like ripples on the surface of water torn by the wind, invisible to the naked eye but perceptible to his divine sense.

Su Han put down his pen and focused his mind, extending his divine sense to scan that direction. He withdrew it in an instant, his brows furrowing slightly. The tremor was too faint, so faint it seemed like an illusion. But if it were an illusion, it shouldn't have left such a clear trace in his spiritual sense—he recognized that fluctuation; it was the lingering echo of some ancient restriction being triggered, like someone gently flicking their finger on a drum that had been silent for hundreds of years.

He thought about it for a while, but couldn't figure it out, so he put it aside for the time being. He continued copying the scripture, then blew out the lamp and went to sleep.

The next morning, he got up very early, ate a bowl of porridge and two steamed buns at the inn, and then left the town, heading south. He followed the dirt road he had seen the day before, walking about five li (approximately 2.5 kilometers) before entering the territory of Fire Cloud Valley. The bushes on both sides of the road grew denser, and the soil gradually changed from grayish-yellow to light red, then to brick red. There was a faint smell of rust in the air, not pungent, but lingering in his nostrils.

After walking another two miles, the view suddenly opened up. Before him lay a small basin, surrounded by red hills. At the bottom of the valley were patches of cultivated fields, planted with wheat and beans, their lush green contrasting sharply with the surrounding red mountains. Winding ridges ran between the fields, and several people carrying farm tools walked along them. Seeing Su Han approaching, they stopped and stared intently at him. Su Han slowed his pace, trying to appear casual. He didn't head directly for the fields, but instead followed a side path up the hillside. A few sparse, low-lying pine trees grew on the hillside, their needles a grayish-green, seemingly struggling to survive. He sat down under a pine tree, gazing at the people and fields in the valley below.

After a while, a middle-aged man carrying a hoe walked towards him. The man walked slowly, but each step was steady. He stopped a dozen steps away from Su Han and put the hoe on the ground.

"You're from town?" The middle-aged man's tone was neither warm nor cold, but rather carried a clear sense of caution.

"I came from the north, just passing through, and took a look around." Su Han sat under the pine tree, looking up at him with a very calm attitude.

"There's nothing to see in Fire Cloud Valley," the middle-aged man said, echoing Manager Chen's sentiments. "It's just some rocky mountains and poor farmland. There's a town twenty miles south; it's much more lively than here."

Su Han didn't argue, but pointed to the fields at the bottom of the valley: "Your wheat is growing very well; it's even stronger than some other places."

The middle-aged man's lips twitched, as if he wanted to laugh but held it back: "The land is poor, but the key is the hard work of the people. Watering the land three times a day, even the worst soil can grow crops."

"That's quite an achievement." Su Han stood up, dusted off his hands, and took two steps toward the middle-aged man. "Brother, I heard there was some trouble in the valley a few days ago?"

The middle-aged man's expression suddenly tensed. His fingers gripping the hoe handle tightened, his knuckles turning white, but he spoke casually, "It's nothing serious, just a few ignorant thugs causing a ruckus, they're gone now."

Will they come back after they leave?

The middle-aged man was silent for a moment, then turned his head to look in the direction of the valley floor. The group of people on the distant ridge were still watching them. One of them waved at them, and the middle-aged man raised his arm and waved back, as if it were some kind of pre-arranged signal.

“It’s hard to say,” the middle-aged man’s voice lowered. “Those people said they were from Huangshi Town next door, and that this land used to belong to them, but now they want us to move. We’ve lived here for decades, we’ve cultivated the land thoroughly, and we’ve had three generations of children. Where are we supposed to move to?”

"What did Mr. Meng say?"

The middle-aged man's eyebrows twitched slightly: "You know Mr. Meng?"

"I've heard of him. I've heard he knows magic."

The middle-aged man's expression relaxed a little: "Mr. Meng is a good man. He lives in that mountain hollow at the very end of the valley and doesn't come out much, but he always helps us when we need something. A few years ago, there was a drought, and Mr. Meng performed a ritual to bring rain, which saved the harvest that year. Last time, those people injured several of our people, and Mr. Meng said he would talk to them after he found out—but after two meetings, nothing came of it; those people are unreasonable."

Su Han rolled the word "talk" on his tongue, but said nothing. He could guess what Mr. Meng's "talk" meant—in the world of rogue cultivators, "talk" usually took one of two forms: either using cultivation to intimidate the other party and make them back down, or offering some benefits to settle the matter. But judging from the current situation, neither method seemed to be working. (End of Chapter)