Chapter 31: No Friends, No Enemies, Wu Family Village

“Are we going to settle accounts with Director Xu?”

Cai Shanjun sighed and said, “I fear that before I even cross the river to gather my loyalists, I’ll have to clash first with Director Xu’s defenses at the river crossing.”

His sigh stirred his heart and lungs, triggering another fit of coughing.

Chu Tianshu now knew the man needed medical treatment, and without further hesitation, he pinched a silver needle and poured his mental energy into it.

A faint mist rose along the needle’s surface, sterilizing and detoxifying it.

With this first needle, he pierced straight through Cai Shanjun’s wrist.

Chu Tianshu seemed to be drawing a huqin string, repeatedly twisting and pressing the needle several times—onlookers nearly felt phantom pain—before he moved to the second needle.

Only when his needles reached the throat did they realize Cai Shanjun, who had been shaking violently from coughing, had stopped trembling.

The sickle-wielding man burst into joy, slapping his companion’s shoulder: “Our Duke’s divination was spot-on.”

Chu Tianshu raised an eyebrow: “Divination?”

Indeed, there had been another odd detail.

If these were truly three peasants, and one was gravely ill, trying anything as a last resort might be plausible.

But if this was Cai Shanjun, how could his guards so easily believe three strangers in the wilderness had a cure for their Duke?

The straw-shoe man chuckled: “Our Duke always foresees the unseen. Days ago, he divined that traveling this way would bring us a noble benefactor.”

Ma the proprietor genuinely admired this Grand Duke, but when it came to matters of expertise, he couldn’t help voicing his doubts.

“People think diviners can predict the future, but as I understand it, the art of divination can at most reveal events that have already occurred or are currently unfolding—events unseen by the diviner.”

“From those, one can trace patterns and speculate on the future, but cannot know future events out of thin air.”

“Our Grand Duke and young Chu have never met, have no connection—how could he have divined this encounter days in advance? What lineage does this method come from?”

If divination were truly that easy—guiding one’s path—ninety-nine percent of all sorcerers would have abandoned everything to study it.

Those who claim divination is this powerful are rarely gods—they’re frauds.

“It’s merely some crude divination methods developed by mountain hermits.”

Cai Shanjun felt his coughing and wheezing had eased somewhat; his expression grew calmer, his voice hoarse: “I realized that without other opportunities, I’d be poisoned to death within two days—or if I survived, my cultivation would be utterly ruined.”

“With no other choice, I cast a divination. When the omen showed a noble benefactor lay this way, I decided to try.”

He smiled slowly: “Divination is always a fifty-fifty gamble—if it succeeds, I’m a master of foresight; if it fails...”

Chu Tianshu finished: “If it fails, it’s just feudal superstition?”

Cai Shanjun replied gently: “If it fails, heaven has deceived me.”

Learned that—this is the proper phrasing of a true “master.”

Chu Tianshu said no more, focusing entirely on the needles.

In truth, Chu Tianshu didn’t know the origin or name of the poison Cai Shanjun had ingested.

But through diagnosis, he understood how it ravaged the body.

He reversed-engineered the toxin’s mechanism, seeking ways to counteract it.

This process was as exhausting as performing a major surgery—limb reattachment or heart transplant.

Yet this wasn’t a fully equipped operating room; the needle procedure couldn’t drag on as long as a real surgery.

This placed even greater strain on the physician’s stamina.

In his former life, even if Chu Tianshu had known how to needle, his body couldn’t have sustained such a treatment.

But now, Chu Tianshu’s physical condition was incomparably superior.

The opening of the meridians through fist arts permanently enhances the body.

Thus, truly formidable fist masters—even when not actively in the opened-meridian state—possess physical strength far beyond ordinary men.

With his current stamina, Chu Tianshu sustained the spirit-linking, meridian-opening state.

Within fifteen minutes, not a single bead of sweat appeared on his face.

After fifteen minutes, visible white vapor began rising from his hair.

It was sweat from his scalp, steamed by his elevated body temperature, contrasting with the mountain’s chill.

After forty-five minutes, Chu Tianshu’s face had turned a deep crimson, white vapor rising visibly from his cheeks.

At that moment, he planted the final needle, stepped back, and exhaled heavily.

The two hooded men stared anxiously at Cai Shanjun.

Cai Shanjun reached out, touched the silver needle still lodged in his throat, and murmured: “Much better. I feel once the needles are removed, I’ll be able to walk and jump again.”

The hooded men looked at Chu Tianshu with deep gratitude.

“Don’t thank me yet!”

Chu Tianshu raised his hand to stop them, breathing deeply; the flush on his face gradually faded. “The poison you carry is extremely potent.”

“My needle technique can only suppress and alleviate it. If you were destined to fully poison yourself within two days—dead or crippled—”

“Then with my needles, you’ll be able to move like an ordinary man for at least a month.”

The sickle-wielding man cried out: “Is there truly no other way?”

“I can prescribe you a formula, but many of the ingredients are so rare—even in Yuannan City, they may be impossible to find.”

Chu Tianshu took the cup of water Ma Shu handed him, drank it down, and fixed Cai Shanjun with sharp eyes.

“So you must cross the river within a month, gather your loyalists, and reclaim power—only then can you possibly gather the herbs.”

“I can escort you across, but then my fee will rise accordingly.”

Cai Shanjun asked: “What do you demand?”

“First, in the future, you must bring my two old uncles to Kunming to live out their days, and provide them with a home.”

Chu Tianshu continued: “Second, I want ten large gold bars, and the finest fist art and the finest occult scripture from the Yizhou Martial Academy’s collection.”

The value of the two scriptures needed no explanation.

The ten gold bars? Chu Tianshu simply wanted to test whether he could take such things back to his hometown.

“You save my life and escort me—these rewards are far too generous.”

Cai Shanjun studied Chu Tianshu for a moment, then glanced at Zhong Jinqiu and Ma the proprietor; his sharp gaze seemed to pierce through layers of hidden truth, bringing a wistful smile to his lips.

“Your healing alone has already repaid these rewards tenfold. But if I refuse other aid and die en route, these empty promises mean nothing.”

“So here’s my proposal: before we plan the river crossing, the three of you must come with me to another place.”

Chu Tianshu asked curiously: “Where? Will you find more reinforcements there?”

“More reinforcements? I can’t find any right now.”

Cai Shanjun explained: “I once held some respect for the President, but after two years in the capital, I’ve seen him repeatedly rely on foreign powers, assassinate civil and military officials at will, and tolerate no dissent—his rule will bring endless calamity.”

“If we don’t act against him soon, the entire nation may collapse, and heaven itself may fall beyond repair.”

“So I devised a plan to flee overseas, crossing through Jiaozhi, then slipping back—but along the way, I was relentlessly hunted and ambushed; my companions scattered like clouds and stars, leaving only Lao Yu and Xiao Huo.”

“If I can’t cross the river in time, I have no other allies.”

Ma the proprietor asked, “Then where are you taking us?”

“A village. A beautiful village.”

Cai Shanjun spoke calmly: “There will be no reinforcements there—but neither will there be deadly enemies.”

“Yet if we can successfully borrow one thing from there, the danger of crossing the river will drop by more than half.”

Chu Tianshu grew even more curious and agreed at once: “Fine, then I must see it for myself.”

With the deal already settled, Zhong Jinqiu and Ma the proprietor had no reason to refuse.

For these two old men, such an unexpected turn of fate stirred their hearts.

Zhong Jinqiu felt a warmth spreading through his chest, inexplicably moistening his eyes; he whispered: “Xiao Chu, he truly...”

“Enough. A true man knows what’s in his heart.”

Ma the proprietor slapped his shoulder: “Don’t you dare shed a single tear—that’d be embarrassing.”

Zhong Jinqiu shot his friend a sideways glare: “Hmph!”

Chu Tianshu glanced at them; a smile had already spread across his face.

“I’m starving after all that work!”

Chu Tianshu sat on a bench and tapped the table.

“You two old uncles, and you two brothers—what food do you have?”

“Bring it out, let’s share a meal and sample each other’s fare!”

The suggestion proved wise.

Lao Yu and Xiao Huo had hidden quite a bit beneath their straw capes.

Large bundles of beef jerky and candied fruits—all high-sugar, high-fat fare.

Though harsh on Ma Shu’s teeth, the martial artists chewed them without trouble.

Martial artists need such food—it restores strength more effectively.

In contrast, Ma Shu’s dried bread cakes went untouched by Chu Tianshu; he left them for those with weaker teeth.

They used the packed meal as bedding, slept in their clothes, wrapped in straw capes, and set off again at first light.

This time, Lao Yu and Xiao Huo led the way, cutting through vines and brushing aside leaves; Cai Shanjun rode a donkey, guiding them.

Chu Tianshu, Zhong Jinqiu, and Ma the proprietor followed behind, chatting casually.

The path grew increasingly remote; after noon, even Zhong Jinqiu—who loved wandering—didn’t know where they were.

But Cai Shanjun studied the mountains, rivers, and trees, sometimes ordering a small tree felled to examine its rings, clearly confident.

Strangely, after walking all day, they felt no uphill climb at all.

It was as if every path ran precisely through mountain hollows—aside from tangled vines and shallow, murky streams to cross, the route was utterly flat.

Three days later, they passed through a dense stand of banana trees, pushing aside the broad, dark green leaves.

Ahead, the view suddenly opened up, the sky bright and the scenery expansive.

In the distance, a waterfall cascaded down the mountains; nearby, emerald waters encircled the land.

A mountain village, built along the slopes beside the water, nestled within this beautiful landscape.

Hundreds of stilted houses, primitive yet refined, seemed to emit a woody scent in the evening glow.

Chu Tianshu walked to the donkey’s side, gazing in surprise at the scenery ahead, feeling as if his eyes had softened with comfort.

Cai Shanjun, riding the donkey, was rubbing his face, removing his disguise.

On the river, a bamboo raft drifted.

The Miao girl, pole in hand, spotted the group here and stared without blinking, as if she had seen some extraordinary mythical beast.

“Grandpa!!”

The girl suddenly shouted, her sweet, clear voice echoing through the mountains.

“Grandpa, Grandpa, the Bridegroom of the Cave Goddess has returned!”

(End of Chapter)