8mi Chapter 81 The Storm Is Brewing
Chapter 81 The Storm Is Brewing
Before dawn, the storytelling teahouse on West Street in Heyuan Town was already packed with people.
It's not time to drink tea, it's time to listen to audiobooks.
The newly adapted storytelling script, "The Miscellaneous Martial Arts Scholar," was performed for three consecutive days, with every performance packed to capacity. Long benches were placed from inside the house to the street, and latecomers could only squat under the window and crane their necks to listen.
The storyteller was a tall, thin man with a goatee, and his gavel rang louder than the gong of the Imperial Guard.
"Speaking of Lin Mu, he was from Willow Leaf Village, of inferior aptitude, and came from a menial background."
"On my first day at Changfeng Martial Arts School, I wasn't even qualified to practice stance training; I could only wipe stone locks next to the weapon rack!"
There was a collective sigh from the audience.
The dockworker squatting under the window clenched his fists, his fingernails still embedded with coal dust that hadn't been washed off.
"But they refused to accept their fate! They cleaned the stone locks during the day and practiced boxing by moonlight at night."
"Explicit strength overcomes implicit strength, implicit strength overcomes neutral strength; on the arena, one against five, spear piercing the Candle Dragon Mark, becoming the martial arts scholar personally selected by Lord Duanmu!"
The gavel slammed down on the table, making the teacup lid jump up.
The tea drinkers slapped the table and cheered, and a burly man with a bare chest slapped away the half-shelled edamame he was holding.
Someone squatting by the window shouted "Lin Mu" first, and then the whole street joined in.
This story really resonates with people from the lower classes.
The peasants of Xihe Town, the farmers of Liuye Village, and the laborers carrying loads at the docks—who among them hasn't tossed and turned at night wondering why those scions of noble families are born with elixirs to eat, martial arts schools to attend, and masters to teach them?
Now there is a person whose physical constitution is comparable to theirs, but whose background is even lower. He started as a servant and began practicing Ming Jin (a martial arts style). He managed to defeat Yan Hua, who had superior physical constitution, on the arena and was personally appointed as a martial arts scholar by Lord Duanmu.
Lin Mu's deeds were like a jar of strong liquor, poured into the throats of every martial artist struggling at the bottom, burning their eyes.
Even the new handymen at the martial arts school straightened their backs a bit more when sweeping the floor than before.
Lin Mu didn't hear a single word of what they said.
He was staying in the small courtyard in the inner city that the Quan family had given him.
The courtyard is not large, with two sections. There is an old jujube tree in the courtyard, not far from the city wall.
He brought his second uncle and his aunt's families to the inner city.
My second aunt stood in the courtyard with her bedding roll, looking up at the blue brick wall of the inner city. After looking for a long time, she said, "This wall is really high."
Auntie San carried her youngest son and walked around the house. Finally, she stood at the kitchen door and shouted to Old Zhao, "This stove is bigger than ours!"
Old Zhao squatted at the gate of the courtyard, his rough fingers tracing the wood grain on the door frame. He didn't say anything, just kept rubbing his apron.
Lin Youfu was the last to enter. He stood in the center of the courtyard, looking up at the stone beasts crouching on the eaves and at the tung oil freshly applied to the pillars glistening in the sunlight. He opened his mouth several times, but in the end, he just squatted under the jujube tree and lit a pipe.
No one could see his expression through the swirling smoke; only his fingers, gripping the pipe, were trembling slightly.
I won't be going back to that dilapidated courtyard in Liuye Village anymore.
Lin Mu squatted by the well in the courtyard and poured a bucket of cold water over his head.
His clothes were soaked, his bandages were soaked, and water droplets hanging from the ends of his hair glistened as they dripped down in the morning light.
The blue brick floor beside the well was stained a darker color by the water, and two pieces of ice that hadn't completely melted were still at the bottom of the bucket.
The shattered ice suppressed the heat in his dantian, but the restless undercurrent still lingered deep within his meridians, making him constantly think about going to the Drunken Red Pavilion.
Zhulong truly lives up to his reputation as a great serpent demon; the aftereffects are quite evident.
The original mark should not be used lightly.
......
The table in the courtyard was piled with invitations that had been delivered in the past two days.
The Zhao family's monthly salary has doubled;
Cui Youdao personally visited the family, bringing a congratulatory invitation written in his own hand by the head of the Cui family.
Even the Ye family, who had previously declined his invitation, sent someone with a gold-embossed cover and polite wording, stating, "We are willing to offer double the tribute to invite Young Master Lin."
Lin Mu flipped the Ye family's invitation over to look at the signature on the back, a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, and put it back.
He asked Cui Youdao to pass on a message: Thank you for the Ye family's kindness, but he already has the support of the Zhao and Cui families and it is inconvenient for him to accept more.
The Ye family representative who came to deliver the message turned pale and then flushed, bowed slightly, and left.
......
On the morning of the third day, a thin line of bluish-gray had just appeared on the horizon.
Lin Mu was squatting by the well, splashing water on his face, when the watchtower on the city wall was suddenly struck.
He looked up, and a drop of water slid down his brow bone, staining his collar and leaving a small dark patch.
The lingering echo of the bell reverberated in the morning breeze. Several early-rising peddlers at the alley entrance simultaneously stopped their calls and looked up toward the city wall.
When he climbed onto the city wall, Duanmu Hong had already been standing in front of the crenellations for a long time.
His plain black robe fluttered in the morning breeze, and as usual, a cup of untouched tea sat beside him.
Quan Feng leaned against the other side of the stack, a short knife across his knee, unusually not chewing on a toothpick.
Zhao Mian's long sword lay at his feet, dew still clinging to its blade. The tip of the sword tapped lightly against the city bricks, producing a series of extremely soft and crisp sounds.
Wen Haoran stood on the other side of the city wall, holding a bamboo scroll in his hand, while Yue'er behind him held a candied hawthorn jar that was half a person tall.
On the dirt road outside the city, several hunters were dragging half of a monster's carcass back home.
It was a mutated wild boar with tusks as thick as an adult's forearm. Its body was covered with dark gray bristles as hard as iron plates. An arrow had pierced its throat, and the edges of the wound were charred black, clearly from a fire-quenched arrowhead.
The hunters showed no fear on their faces, only a deep-seated weariness.
Their clothes were stained with fresh blood as well as dried and blackened blood, layer upon layer, making it impossible to tell which day it had been splattered.
One of them was limping, his ankle swollen and purple, leaving a drag mark and a bloody trail with every step he took on the dirt road.
"There have been seven cases since last night."
Zhao Mian's voice was not loud: "Two demon wolves in Willow Leaf Village, a young armored rhinoceros in Stone Gully, two blood pythons in the reed marshes, and a tusked boar on Old Locust Slope."
"Three more villages have reported sightings of demon rats. There are quite a few, but they are all low-level, which Ming Jin can handle."
Quan Feng took the dagger from his knees and twirled it between his fingers.
"This also means that the restrictions on the Eternal Night Forest have been loosened."
Duanmu Hong gazed in the direction of the Eternal Night Forest, the hem of his robe fluttering in the morning breeze.
When the morning breeze blew in from that direction, it carried a faint, sweet, and slightly fishy smell.
The faint, thin line of dark red on the horizon was deepening at a visible speed, turning from a line into a wisp, and from a wisp into a patch, as if something was slowly burning below the horizon.
"We're about to get serious," Duanmu Hong said, his voice like two blocks of ice rubbing against each other.
As if to confirm Duanmu Hong's judgment, the wind on the city wall suddenly picked up, making everyone's robes flutter loudly.
It also made the dark red sky in the distance seem even closer.
The fishy, sweet smell in the air suddenly intensified, as if someone had torn open a rift in the sky, pouring in all the demonic energy that had been accumulating deep in the forest for countless years.
The flags on the battlements were stretched taut by the wind, their corners striking the flagpoles with a cracking sound like whips.
The hunters dragging wild boars along the dirt road below the city also stopped and looked back towards the direction of the Eternal Night Forest.
Their hunting dogs tucked their tails between their legs and shrank back behind their owners, letting out low growls.