Chapter 1170

Mengmeng spoke solemnly: "Six years ago, famine met snow disaster, and the allied armies still demanded we send troops. The front lines were fighting, while we women and children in the rear were nearly starving to death!" "I heard the elders say that even if the allied armies could have taken Luotai Mountain back then, Yao State wouldn't have collapsed immediately. To truly defeat Yao State, they'd still have to drag things out for years—nothing like that ignorant, foolish woman claimed about it being easy. Yao State is so strong, and behind it..." Mengmeng said, "If we had to fight for years, what would we eat and drink? When the clan chief withdrew from the allied armies, we immediately received food and supplies from Yao State, saving many of our people."

She looked at Aixun firmly: "No matter what others say, I believe the clan chief did nothing wrong!"

Aixun grasped her hand: "Thank you."

"Next time they say such things, you just curse back at them!" The girl blinked: "They know jack shit."

Aixun smiled faintly: If only it were that simple.

Although the defection at the time did indeed bring food and supplies, the Ying people's situation over these past few years has not improved. They have been forced to do many unsavory tasks for Yao State, fought both major and minor battles seven or eight times, and suffered many casualties among the clan's able-bodied, making relief efforts a heavy burden.

Moreover, this has caused surrounding powers to grow increasingly hostile toward the Ying people, making trade with neighbors increasingly difficult.

Aixun felt this was bad and unsettling. Though the wilderness was vast, the path the Ying people could walk was growing narrower and narrower.

Why did the traitorous Luodian State fare well while they struggled to move forward?

At this moment, his father returned from the market, gestured to him, and interrupted his thoughts: "Aixun, come."

Aixun nodded farewell to his childhood sweetheart and followed his father into the tent.

From behind, his father's white hair had grown a few more strands, his shoulders slightly slumped, and his back no longer as straight as before.

His wounds made the hero show signs of old age before reaching his twilight years.

The clan chief entered a small tent, and the Ying people inside immediately withdrew, leaving them space to talk.

"Sit."

"Do you know why I came to this market?"

Aixun shook his head.

We usually trade at the dedicated horse market and rarely come to such a large fair.

The Ying clan also dislikes being stared at strangely.

"I had someone obtain something for me to verify an important piece of intelligence." The market had visitors from all directions, and naturally, intelligence from all directions as well. Some herders and travelers only followed the market from place to place. His father spoke slowly: "Intelligence about Luosheng Jia."

"Luosheng Jia?" Aixun blinked in surprise: "That's just a legend!"

Legends concerning the Shanjin Empire and Luosheng Jia are probably among the most widely circulated stories in the western Shanjin Plains.

Stories are just stories—few people take them seriously, and children stop believing them when they grow up.

"How could there be wind without a cave?" His father said solemnly: "I've secretly inquired for years and finally obtained this intelligence!"

Seeing his father's expression, Aixun knew something was wrong: "Where is it now?"

"Jing Mountain."

"The final touring palace of the Shanjin Empire?" Aixun doubted: "Father, this intelligence of yours..."

"It's reliable." His father began coughing when excited.

Three years ago, in battle, he was stabbed in the lung, and since then his speech has lacked strength.

Aixun immediately poured him water.

After finally finishing his cough, his father did not drink the water but instead took out a small cloth bundle from his bosom and opened it.

Inside lay three plants, resembling fungi yet moss, grayish-white in color, with a distinctive shape—diamond-shaped with serrated edges, tightly packed together with almost no gaps.

"Snake skin? No."

Aixun glanced at it and did not think it was a plant but rather the shed skin of some giant snake.

"This is Dragon Armor Mushroom, which only grew in dragon territories before ancient times. Nowadays, very few people have seen it or recognize it—I learned of it from an obscure ancient text." His father lowered his voice: "Guess where my informant found it?"

"Jing Mountain?"

"Yes, exactly Jing Mountain!" The clan chief laughed: "When I was your age, I once saved a Daoist master. But he was gravely injured and died a few days later. Among his relics, besides his Daoist methods, there was also a book recording his personal experiences of strange phenomena, in which there is a secret note stating that Dragon Armor Mushroom might also grow around Luosheng Jia."

"Now that Dragon Armor Mushroom has appeared on Jing Mountain, it indicates Luosheng Jia has returned there." He said solemnly: "I will set out tomorrow, and clan affairs are entrusted to you."

Aixun hesitated: "Father truly believes that armor can make its wearer invincible in battle? If so, how did the last king of the Shanjin Empire fail?"

"Later wearers of Luosheng Jia also achieved great deeds. If they could do it, why can't we?" The clan chief laughed: "Don't forget—we are also descendants of the Shanjin imperial family! Luosheng Jia rightfully belongs to me, and I naturally have the right to wear it."

Only the surname was changed midway.

After the Shanjin Empire collapsed, the imperial Pang clan descendants changed their surnames en masse to avoid disaster.

Aixun scratched his head.

All of this is legend, unverifiable—who wouldn't want to gild their ancestors' reputation? After all, if one's ancestors were renowned, one becomes a scion of a noble line, and saying so brings great face.

Of course he wouldn't be foolish enough to refute this point, and only said:

"But this armor's evil power is strong..."

His father brimmed with confidence: "The key lies in the user. As long as my will is firm, I can command this armor."

"External forces misunderstand us, your second uncle covets my position, and these years my health has been poor—Yao State..." His father said this, then sighed deeply: "The tasks Yao State assigns us keep increasing—either demanding payment or killing people, clearly treating us as enforcers."

Aixun also fell silent.

Foreign tribes all despise the Ying people, regard them as traitors, and have caused many conflicts these years. There were even two occasions when foreign tribes united to attack the Ying people. For self-preservation, the Ying people had no choice but to reluctantly rely on Yao State.

But seeking shelter under a powerful wing comes at a cost.

Yao State frequently assigns tasks to the Ying people, and Aixun and his father cannot refuse. Yet carrying out these tasks only deepens hostilities with surrounding powers.

Increasingly passive, increasingly offending others.

The deadlock of this vicious cycle cannot be undone.

The clan members hold strong opinions on this; the clan chief's younger brother—Aixun's second uncle—has repeatedly voiced his dissatisfaction with the clan chief in public.

Without the intervention of great power, this dead cycle cannot be broken.

From this perspective, the father's search for Luosheng Jia and his hope placed in it are reasonable.

"If we find Luosheng Jia, at least your second uncle won't dare act rashly; when I go out to battle, I can return to my peak!" The clan chief patted his son's shoulder: "Our clan's current situation leaves me no choice but to be resolute!"

"Father is the clan chief, bearing great responsibility." Aixun immediately said: "I'll go fetch it for you!"

His father grunted, unabashed: "Your cultivation progresses quickly, but you're too weak! You don't kill cleanly, and you fuss over everything. With your nature, you simply cannot touch Luosheng Jia!"

He let out a long sigh: "If only A Lei were still here. He was fierce, brave, and steadfast — the best choice to take the armor."

A Xun's face flushed green and red at his words, and he lowered his head again.

A Lei was his elder brother, originally the pride of the Ying people, and the heir their father had pinned high hopes on — who would have thought he would die in a tribal conflict three years ago.

Their father was overcome with grief, aging ten years in a single night.

A Xun knew that in his father's heart, A Lei was the warrior most likely to grow into a hero, the most suitable successor.

But now he only had this one son, A Xun, left.

"Look at you — you're clearly angry, yet you don't dare utter a single retort. Where is the Ying warrior in you?" Disappointment showed on his father's face. "You're just like the Yao people."

"Father!" A Xun's face turned completely red, red with anger.

Comparing him to the Yao people in terms of courage — that was the greatest insult!

"Anyway, while I'm gone these few days, you take good care of the clansmen, don't let Second Uncle take advantage." Father smiled. "Aren't you fond of Mengmeng? Her father only allows her to marry the chieftain's son. You hold down the fort, I'll be back in a few days, and then I'll go propose for you!"

Hearing this, A Xun's face reddened again.

Just then, rain started falling outside again, pattering against the tent.

$$$$$

A bolt of lightning flashed across the sky, crack—

The Wochan leapt out of the ground, spotting a small town ahead, a few points of lamp light staining soft halos in the rain.

Dong Rui yawned: "Where did you say our destination was again?"

"White Head Ridge, said to border the Yao Kingdom." Having just emerged from underground, He Lingchuan's sense of direction wasn't good either. "Where is this?"

"Let's go ask!" Dong Rui pointed at the town. "We've been traveling three days already, one more night won't hurt. Also, I want to eat a bowl of hot soup noodles."

He made a fair point, so the two descended, stowed the Wochan, opened their paper umbrellas, and went into the town.

This small town had roughly two to three hundred households, only one little tavern, its frontage dilapidated, the cloth awning stuck fast with rainwater.

He Lingchuan and the other entered; the shopkeeper was dozing with hands tucked in his sleeves. The place could fit five tables, yet only a single customer sat there.

Business was slow. But in this pouring rain, who would run around outside for no reason?

Dong Rui rubbed his hands and stepped forward, slapping the table to wake the shopkeeper: "Two bowls of hot soup noodles to start! What else you got that's good to eat?"

The shopkeeper blinked sleepily: "Yesterday a hunter from the mountains brought down a big deer..."

"Oh?" Venison is a great tonic. Dong Rui was delighted — didn't expect wild game in a shabby little town shop. "Cut me two plates of venison, with tendons!"

"Sir, I wasn't finished." The shopkeeper grumbled. "Venison's sold out, not even the deer face left — only a bit of rice-blood made from deer blood. Want some?"

Dong Rui's shoulders slumped: "Fine, whatever you have. And bring us a pot of wine."

The hot soup noodles came first, two big bowls. At a glance they looked ordinary, but one bite in — both spicy and sour.

Not much in the way of toppings; the egg threads were barely visible as threads, the carrots shredded fine as hair — have to admit the shopkeeper's knife work was good. But the sour broth was well-balanced, the mixed-grain noodles nicely chewy, and there was even some mint.

Dong Rui alternated a mouthful of noodles with a mouthful of broth, slurped a few times and let out a straight sigh — comfortable.

(End of chapter)