Chapter 2: Seizing the Grain

The piercing screams were especially chilling in the dead of night. Lu Yan couldn’t help but recall the words of that madwoman from earlier in the day, and goosebumps prickled his skin. Just then, the shrieks rang out once more—after several cries, they died away into silence.

“It sounds like the madwoman again. Is she having another fit?” Lu Yan pondered. He pulled his clothes tighter around him, opened his door, and stepped into the living room, where he found Lu Qingshan and Wang Cui already waiting. Lu Qingshan appeared relatively calm, but Wang Cui looked nervous.

The three of them remained silent, lingering in the living room for a while. No further screams pierced the night.

“It’s probably just the madwoman having another episode. Don’t worry, Yan, go back to bed. If anything happens, call for us,” Lu Qingshan said.

“Father, Mother, you should sleep early too.” After a brief reply from Lu Qingshan, they each returned to their rooms. Lu Yan lay down on his bed, still dressed. Sleep eluded him for a long time as the madwoman’s words echoed ceaselessly in his mind. Only when exhaustion finally overtook him did he drift back into slumber.

The night passed without incident.

At dawn, Lu Qingshan set off into Woniu Mountain to hunt, and Wang Cui took her hoe to the fields to till the earth, preparing to plant potatoes. She told Lu Yan to rest well at home and regain his strength.

After finishing a bowl of thin porridge, Lu Yan wandered through the village. He saw several old villagers gathered and chatting.

“Uncles, do you happen to know where the madwoman from yesterday lives?” Lu Yan approached them to inquire.

“You’re looking for Aunt Niu? No need to bother. I live right next door to her. Last night, she went mad again and ran out of the village. Her family chased after her and hasn’t returned since,” one of the old men replied.

“The whole family left? Not a single one came back?”

“Not one!” the old man affirmed.

“How odd,” Lu Yan mused. Normally, even if they went to chase after a madwoman, someone should have stayed behind to watch the house. Why would the entire family leave, and stay out all night? The wilderness here was dangerous after dark—venomous insects and wild beasts roamed freely. On the road during his exile, Lu Yan had witnessed many people dragged off and killed by beasts, and he himself had nearly fallen prey to one.

Whether they caught up with the madwoman or not, they should have returned as soon as possible. Why disappear the whole night? Had they all been killed by wild animals? Or was there another reason?

The Liu Clan—the local gentry. The thought struck Lu Yan.

Yesterday, the madwoman had screamed before everyone. Today, her entire family had vanished. The coincidence was too stark. If the Liu Clan really was behind this, what could their motive be? Was it because of the woman’s wild accusations the day before? Would they go so far over the rantings of a madwoman?

On the other hand, if it truly was the Liu Clan’s doing, then perhaps what the madwoman had said yesterday was the truth.

A chill crept through Lu Yan’s heart. The villagers who once lived in those empty houses in Kaoshan Village had all died—not of pestilence, but by the hand of vengeful spirits.

Lu Yan had never believed in vengeful ghosts, but after experiencing something as incredible as transmigrating to another world, what else was impossible? Especially in a world where martial arts and other supernatural forces existed, the extraordinary had become the norm.

“Uncle, was Aunt Niu always mad?” Lu Yan took a deep breath to steady himself and asked.

A trace of unease flickered across the villagers’ faces, but it was quickly masked.

“She wasn’t mad before. But during the last outbreak, she lost both her children to illness. She’s been deranged ever since, raving day and night. Child, don’t take her words to heart,” the old man replied.

“Uncle, was there really a plague here before?” Lu Yan pressed.

“Of course there was. We lost many friends and neighbors,” the old man sighed.

Lu Yan tried probing further, but gained nothing useful. Still, a sense of unease lingered in his mind, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on the cause. He simply didn’t have enough information.

“Best to take things as they come. I’ll tread carefully from now on,” he thought to himself.

As for leaving Kaoshan Village, that was out of the question. His family was registered here; the other villages were already full. Even if they wanted to move elsewhere, they would be turned away. Moving into Changfeng City was even less realistic—the price of a single home there was astronomical to them.

Lu Yan made another circuit through the village, observing closely, but found nothing amiss.

At dusk, Lu Qingshan returned from the mountains with a small basket of wild fruits and six or seven wild yams.

Lu Yan hefted them; each yam weighed over a pound. Wild yams were common—there had been plenty in the hills around his original home, but after the natural disasters, even the grass had been stripped bare. Around Changfeng City, however, there had been no such calamity. With enough grain stores, the locals seldom foraged in the mountains. Thus, wild vegetables, fruits, and yams were plentiful here.

“Look at this…” Lu Qingshan unwrapped a bundle of firewood, revealing a plump wild pheasant, weighing nearly three pounds.

“Husband, you really caught a pheasant! Tonight we can finally make something nourishing for Yan,” Wang Cui beamed, and Lu Yan’s stomach rumbled in anticipation.

“Wife, clean the pheasant, but be careful not to let others see. I’ll go cut some stinkwood,” Lu Qingshan said, grabbing his hatchet and heading out. He soon returned with a large bundle of fresh green branches, which he spread around the kitchen.

Stinkwood was a plant unknown on Earth, emitting a pungent odor. Laying it around the kitchen masked the aroma of stewing meat. Most villagers couldn’t even fill their bellies with coarse rice, let alone meat—if word got out that they had caught a pheasant, jealousy and mischief would surely follow. Better to be cautious.

Only when night had fully settled did Wang Cui butcher half the pheasant and stew it with wild yams. The rich fragrance made Lu Yan’s mouth water uncontrollably.

“Yan, eat more tonight. Husband, you need to eat well, too, for the hunt tomorrow,” Wang Cui ladled out generous bowls for Lu Yan and Lu Qingshan, filled mostly with meat, while her own bowl was small and mostly yam.

“Mother, you take this drumstick. It’s too much for me,” Lu Yan tried to give her a piece.

He knew she’d worked hard all day in the fields, and he himself had done nothing. But he’d only just recovered from a serious illness and couldn’t yet help.

“Yan, you’re still convalescing. You need the nourishment. I have enough,” Wang Cui firmly pushed the drumstick back.

“She’s right, Yan. Eat up. I had wild fruit in the mountains today and I’m not hungry. Give your mother some more,” Lu Qingshan added, taking pieces from his own bowl and placing them in Wang Cui’s.

Unable to persuade them, Lu Yan could only eat heartily. All he could do was recover quickly so he could help them in return.

It was the most satisfying meal Lu Yan had eaten since coming to this world.

That night, the village was peaceful, with nothing out of the ordinary.

The next morning, Lu Qingshan again went hunting, and Wang Cui returned to the fields. Still, there was no sign of Aunt Niu’s family—they seemed to have vanished into thin air.

Time flew by, and in ten days, the village remained quiet, with nothing unusual occurring. The unease in Lu Yan’s heart gradually faded.

Lu Qingshan didn’t bring back meat every day, but at least every two or three days he managed to catch something—maybe a wild pheasant, maybe a rabbit. With the nourishment of meat, Lu Yan recovered rapidly; after ten days, he was fully restored and looked a new man.

Now, Lu Yan felt the urge to learn hunting from Lu Qingshan. In this world, survival required a skill. He couldn’t train in martial arts for now, but learning to hunt was possible. Hunting involved archery—useful for self-defense. On the road, Lu Qingshan had used his bow more than once to ward off ill-intentioned men.

One morning after breakfast, just as Lu Yan was about to speak, he heard the sound of weeping nearby.

“That’s Sister Hai’s voice.”

“What’s happened?”

“Let’s go see.”

Lu Qingshan grabbed his hunting bow and went out the door, with Lu Yan and Wang Cui close behind.

Sister Hai’s house was next door, only a dozen meters away. Outside, they saw several burly men leaving her house, carrying sacks—obviously filled with grain.

“Please, leave us some food! If you take it all, my family will starve!” a woman chased after them, crying loudly.

“Shut up, or I’ll break your legs,” one of the men barked, slapping Sister Hai hard across the face. She staggered back, falling to the ground, one cheek swelling rapidly.

“Mother, what’s wrong? Don’t cry…” A thin, frail girl of seven or eight ran out, clutching her mother’s arm and weeping helplessly.

“It’s them,” Lu Yan gritted his teeth.

He recognized these men—they were notorious scoundrels and thieves from the road during the famine. Their names were Wu Chaofeng, Li Shi, and Li Mu. Supposedly, they had once apprenticed at a martial arts school. Though they’d learned little, they were not easy to deal with—especially the leader, Wu Chaofeng, who was strong and skilled with his fists, enough to handle three or four grown men at once.

On the road, they never sought food for themselves, but always seized what others had found. Some people had died of starvation after being robbed by them. They had even tried to take food from Lu Yan’s family, but Lu Qingshan’s bow had scared them off.

Now, with their borrowed grain run out, they were targeting others again.

Wu Chaofeng spotted Lu Qingshan, Lu Yan, and Wang Cui. He licked his lips, eyes glinting with malice, and strode toward them.

“Yan, get behind me,” Lu Qingshan said, shielding Lu Yan with his body and gripping his bow, ready for trouble.