Chapter 4: The Butcher

“Oh, it’s just a person—scared the life out of me.”

The burly man across from him spoke with a trembling voice, clearly startled by Chu Danqing as well.

“I thought it was some mountain demon or ghost—I didn’t even think it was dark yet.”

Only then did Chu Danqing get a clear look at the man.

He was a butcher, dressed in a short tunic with a coarse cloth tied around his waist; not far away sat a carrying pole.

Clearly, while Chu Danqing was gathering bones, the butcher had noticed movement in the straw pile and came over with his pork-killing knife.

“Huh, two wolves.” The butcher leaned in curiously, seeing the wolf carcasses on Chu Danqing’s shoulders, then offered his evaluation: “Poor quality.”

“Bold enough, deserves to die here.”

As for wolves, the butcher had no affection for them—best outcome was turning them into a pot of meat.

Then he noticed Chu Danqing’s appearance and asked: “Young man, you’re not from around here, are you?”

“Just passing through.” Chu Danqing made no effort to chat warmly; he was observing the butcher instead.

Don’t be fooled by his boisterous demeanor—you can’t judge a man by appearances.

“Don’t be afraid, young man—I’m no villain. I live just ahead, in Xianghua Village.”

“Everyone around here calls me Jiang Tu—I kill pigs and sell meat. Everyone in the nearby villages says my meat’s the best.” The butcher didn’t overdo the friendliness; he simply introduced himself.

Chu Danqing sized him up, his expression skeptical: “The wolves were killed here—didn’t you see them when you set up your stall?”

Not to mention why a butcher would carry meat out on this route—but if you walked this path and didn’t encounter them, that’s strange.

“What? Here?!!” Jiang Tu’s reaction caught Chu Danqing off guard: “I only changed my route today because I stopped to rest—this path’s rarely used.”

Meaning: a spontaneous detour, not a regular route.

If the man wasn’t an excellent actor, his words held high credibility.

“Wait—what’s that on your waist?” Jiang Tu also noticed Chu Danqing’s oddity.

Foreigners always raised suspicion.

After all, in ancient times, population mobility was low—any stranger entering was hard to miss.

Even someone like Jiang Tu, who wandered the lanes, stuck to fixed routes.

“A child eaten by wolves—a boy.”

“I gathered his remains to take to Xianghua Village and ask around.”

“You say you’re from Xianghua Village—you must know something.” As Chu Danqing spoke, his eyes locked onto Jiang Tu; if the man made any sudden move, he’d strike.

Jiang Tu’s expression shifted appropriately, but he couldn’t possibly trust a stranger’s word out here in the wilderness.

Just as Jiang Tu had subtly probed Chu Danqing during their conversation.

“I know—the village chief’s grandson, San Niu—he went missing seven days ago.” Jiang Tu looked at the scrap of cloth Chu Danqing pulled out—it matched the chief’s child.

“We searched the back river for two days—never expected…”

Here, Jiang Tu suddenly fell silent, refusing to continue.

But his attitude toward Chu Danqing had changed—he was no longer the same overly polite, warm stranger.

“Young man, you’re dusty from the road, and night’s coming fast—let’s head to Xianghua Village and rest.”

“If you bring the chief the bones of his grandson, he’ll surely reward you well.”

“Let’s hurry—we’ll be there in a quarter hour.” Jiang Tu sheathed his knife, lifted his pole, and led the way ahead.

“What’s your surname, young man?” Jiang Tu kept talking, now remembering to ask Chu Danqing’s name.

Before he died, Chu Danqing wouldn’t have cared about revealing his name—he’d have said it freely.

But what if?

Better to pick a pseudonym—out here, he had no ill intent, but he still needed caution.

“My surname is Chu, my given name is Mo.”

Danqing means painting—a refined term for silent poetry—so he took Mo, meaning silence.

Just as Jiang Tu had only given his nickname, not his real name.

Both sides had achieved balance.

“Your name… is quite unusual,” Jiang Tu said, not thinking much, merely offering automatic flattery.

In business, you speak to people as people, to ghosts as ghosts.

But he realized he had no good way to flatter it.

Luckily, he was adaptable enough to quickly find a new topic.

Most of the time, Chu Danqing listened, rarely interjecting.

He was a modern man—more talk meant more mistakes.

Besides, listening let him gather clues about Xianghua Village from Jiang Tu—even if they were just gossip.

This made Jiang Tu think Chu Danqing’s name Mo was truly fitting—he’d been silent the whole way.

Before nightfall, the two arrived smoothly at Xianghua Village.

At the village entrance stood a massive banyan tree, lush and unmistakable.

But the most striking sight was the man sitting beneath it.

A man even bulkier than Jiang Tu, at least two meters tall, powerfully built.

Yet his appearance was filthy and disheveled, his clothes torn and mismatched.

But what drew Chu Danqing’s attention wasn’t his looks—it was his demeanor, unlike his rough exterior.

Chu Danqing wasn’t one to judge by appearances, yet upon seeing him, his mind involuntarily slipped into crude, childlike terms.

‘The Guardian of the Three Scenic Wonders?’ Chu Danqing immediately recalled the description of Xianghua’s Three Scenic Wonders from his mission briefing.

Jiang Tu also spotted the man and shouted: “Da Bao! Who’s feeding you tonight?”

Then he turned to Chu Danqing: “Da Bao’s the village guardian—slow-witted, but kind-hearted.”

The words sounded like a warning, but really meant: don’t provoke the fool, or you’ll get your head smashed—and you won’t have the right to complain.

Da Bao, in his dazed tone, replied: “Chief’s house. Da De hasn’t come to call me yet.”

“Don’t wait for him—he’s late. I’m going to the chief’s anyway—come with me.” Jiang Tu reached into his waist pouch and pulled out a handful of pork cracklings, handing them to Da Bao.

Da Bao didn’t refuse or thank him—he just grabbed them and crunched them in his mouth.

Then he mumbled: “Da Jiang, should we kick out the stranger you brought?”

“Just eat,” Jiang Tu laughed helplessly. “Chu here’s the chief’s guest. If you chase him off, you’ll go hungry tonight—and sleep with me.”

“No way—I can’t stand your farting and teeth grinding,” Da Bao said, spitting out the cracklings with disgust.

Hearing this, Chu Danqing quietly exhaled in relief.

His start had gone smoothly—if he hadn’t met Jiang Tu, a villager of Xianghua, Da Bao would never have let him in.

Da Bao’s logic wouldn’t respond to reason.

And he couldn’t fight—win or lose, he’d offend the villagers, sinking him into a vicious cycle.

(End of Chapter)