Chapter 7: Another Debt

After finishing his morning exercises, Shang Lu prepared to take Lady Third back to his hometown. As he left the house, he deliberately donned his constable uniform.

It wasn’t that Shang Lu wished to flaunt his status as a constable, but rather to avoid idle gossip among the villagers. There was never a shortage of busybodies in the countryside; if he returned in plain clothes, rumors would soon spread that he had been dismissed from his post, or even that he had been caught in a crime and was now fleeing as an outlaw.

When Shang Lu had “come back to life,” there were already many in the village whispering that his body had been possessed by a vengeful spirit. The rumor grew so wild that it even drew the attention of the county’s shaman, who came specially to put it to rest.

Of course, from a certain perspective, it wasn’t entirely a rumor.

Shang Lu himself could ignore the village talk, but his parents would inevitably worry, so it was better to wear the constable’s uniform. He finished changing, strapped on his ox-tail saber, tucked the oil-paper umbrella into its holder, and slung it over his shoulder. After checking once more to make sure nothing was forgotten, he stepped out the door.

As soon as he left, the courtyard grew cold and dark, exuding an eerie, haunted air.

Before Shang Lu had even left the county town, he saw a group of patrolling constables approaching. Colleagues naturally exchanged greetings, and by chance, Sun Ying was among them.

Seeing Shang Lu heading out again, Sun Ying couldn’t help but frown, but quickly forced a neutral expression. After exchanging greetings, he feigned concern: “Shang Lu, you’re not resting at home—where are you off to?”

“Just a little business to handle, heading back to my family in the country,” Shang Lu replied honestly, as if unaware of Sun Ying’s machinations.

Sun Ying’s mind raced, thinking that the Black Wind Gang’s threats must have rattled Shang Lu, leaving him unable to find peace. Otherwise, with the merit exam approaching, why would he waste time returning home instead of working to restore his abilities? He must be worried the Black Wind Gang would harass his parents and rushed back to check on them.

Sun Ying secretly hoped the gang would rough up Shang Lu’s parents and truly shake his resolve.

Outwardly, though, Sun Ying maintained his facade of camaraderie, nodding: “It’s good to clear your head. Maybe you’ll find a way to recover your strength.”

“Thank you for your kind words,” Shang Lu said, clasping his hands, then added seriously, “If I do regain my abilities and pass the merit exam, I’ll treat you to a drink.”

Sun Ying felt uncomfortable under Shang Lu’s steady gaze and forced a laugh. “Haha, all right, I’ll look forward to that drink.”

Only after Shang Lu had taken his leave did a flash of hatred cross Sun Ying’s eyes as he glared at Shang Lu’s receding figure, thinking venomously:

“Treat me to a drink? Hmph, let me treat you instead. When you’re dead, I’ll piss on your grave and call it wine.”

Whether it was the stifling heat or old grudges, Sun Ying’s resentment toward Shang Lu only seemed to grow.

Just as these thoughts swirled, Shang Lu suddenly turned around—startling Sun Ying, who feared he’d inadvertently spoken his thoughts aloud. But Shang Lu merely waved farewell to the group before continuing on his way.

Unbeknownst to Sun Ying, Shang Lu was muttering under his breath as he walked:

“I knew it—this guy’s all fake smiles up front, cursing me behind my back… Let me give him a scare for now. When I get my strength back, I’ll settle things properly.”

The oil-paper umbrella slung over Shang Lu’s shoulder swayed a few times, tapping him gently with its tip.

It was almost as if someone was half-annoyed, half-indulgent at his mischievousness.

Shang Lu’s ancestral home lay south of Luoshui County, in Twin Osmanthus Village—a name supposedly inspired by the two great osmanthus trees in the village. By itself, the name wasn’t remarkable, but compared to neighboring places called “Sow Village,” “Chamberpot Hamlet,” or “Headless Mountain,” it sounded refined and pleasant.

Leaving the county, Shang Lu traveled south along the main road. Over two months ago, when he had just “risen from the dead” and crossed into this world, it was the depths of winter. The cold was biting, and the land was bleak and lifeless.

Now, with winter gone and spring returned, everything was revived. Everywhere he looked, there was vibrant life.

The transformation matched Shang Lu’s own body and spirit in a surprising way.

As he hurried along, Shang Lu couldn’t keep his mouth shut, chattering endlessly—as if he were not returning home, but out on a spring outing with a new bride, with endless things to say:

“Lady Third, look—it really is spring, all the fresh green on the trees now.”

“The sun isn’t even that harsh, so why is the air so stuffy? Are you afraid of the sun, Lady Third? Is it comfortable inside the umbrella? Will the sunlight hurt you?”

“Wow, this stick is so straight—I’m taking it home for my collection.”

“Look, Lady Third, so many tiny flowers in this field—so pretty…”

He dove into the roadside grass, picked the prettiest little yellow flower, and stuck it onto the umbrella’s handle. The yellow flower danced lightly in the breeze, looking especially lovely.

This time, the oil-paper umbrella didn’t scold him with a tap from its tip; instead, a gentle wind swirled around Shang Lu, brushing away the dirt and grass from his clothes as though a pair of hands were tenderly tidying him up, expressing appreciation for the little yellow flower.

Twin Osmanthus Village was some fifty li from Luoshui County. With good company, Shang Lu found the journey not only unboring, but joyful.

As he approached the village, Shang Lu spotted several Black Wind Gang members loitering near his family’s fields.

“They really did come to harass my parents!” A cold glint flashed in his eyes as his hand dropped to his saber.

Though his soul had crossed to this world, Shang Lu inherited the original’s memories. In the difficult days after his resurrection, when he could barely move, it was his parents and Lady Third who cared for him without complaint, even tending to his most basic needs.

Family bonds had long been reforged.

If anything happened to his parents, he would not hesitate to kill those Black Wind Gang thugs.

Fortunately, he soon saw his parents working safely in the field. Relieved, he let go of the saber and suppressed his killing intent.

The Black Wind Gang members, oblivious to their narrow escape, showed no urgency at Shang Lu’s arrival. On one hand, they hadn’t yet done anything to his parents. On the other, word of the merit exam had spread, and they believed Shang Lu’s days as a constable were numbered.

Without his martial abilities and stripped of his uniform, he’d be just another powerless man, theirs to handle however they pleased. What was there to fear?

“Father, Mother, I’m home!” Shang Lu ignored the gang thugs and went straight to his parents at the field’s edge, calling out loudly as he kicked off his boots, rolled up his trousers, and jumped down to help.

He tossed his ox-tail saber onto the field ridge, unafraid of theft, but kept the oil-paper umbrella slung across his back, reluctant to part with it.

“Lu’er, what brings you back?” In the field, Shang Mingqiu, straining at the plow, and Wu Guizhi, steadying the handle, both looked up in surprise.

“I’m off duty for now—thought I’d come see you.”

As he spoke, Shang Lu moved to take the shoulder harness from his father, intending to pull the plow himself.

The family didn’t own an ox—only one or two well-off households in Twin Osmanthus Village did. At planting time, the rest either pooled money to borrow an ox or relied on sheer human strength.

Shang Mingqiu resisted, worried. “Let me do it. You’re not fully recovered—don’t push yourself.”

“It’s fine, I can manage this much,” Shang Lu insisted, taking the harness and settling it on his shoulders. Bracing his waist and planting his feet, he began to pull the plow.

With the Black Wind Gang nearby, Shang Lu made sure not to display his true strength—only using the power of an ordinary man to avoid suspicion.

Shang Mingqiu tried to take back the harness but failed, settling for relieving Wu Guizhi of the plow handle so she could rest.

As Shang Lu strained at the plow, he asked without looking up, “When did those Black Wind Gang men arrive?”

Shang Mingqiu wiped sweat from his brow with a rag draped over his shoulder. “They came yesterday afternoon—been hanging around our fields ever since.”

“They didn’t do anything to you, did they?” This was Shang Lu’s greatest concern.

“No,” Shang Mingqiu shook his head.

Wu Guizhi snorted coldly, “They may not have touched us, but they scared off every buyer who came to see the fields.”

It was clear the Black Wind Gang had driven away potential buyers to keep the family from selling their land.

Settling debts with silver was clean and open, leaving little room for manipulation. But if land was put up as collateral, the gang could twist the terms—valuing good fields as if they were poor, and still claiming the family owed more.

That way, even if all the ancestral land was forfeited, the debt might not be cleared.

This was how the Black Wind Gang had swallowed up so much land in Luoshui, driving many to ruin.

Now, they had turned their tactics on Shang Lu’s family.

He took note of this debt in his heart.

He then turned to his parents and asked, “Why did you suddenly think of selling the land? Did you hear some rumor?”