Chapter 498: Mountain Spirits

When the grim-faced Lao Qi stepped out of the house and saw his four men dead by violence, he bent down, reached out and touched a smear of blood that hadn't yet congealed, rubbed it between his fingers, then viciously gave the order: "After them! This bastard just left — chase him down, roast him and eat him, and save the liver for me!"

By this time, He Biandan was already paddling his sampan through the waterways for quite a while.

Earlier, when he'd been wrapped in a fishing net and dumped at the bow, he had already memorized the entry and exit channels of Ghost Head Hollow. Most porters have this knack for remembering routes — just like the delivery riders of later generations, those with good memories can often save time, and when they tally up at month's end, they earn just that little bit more.

He Biandan was born with a good memory, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to make a living at this trade, so by now the sampan was already halfway along the route.

Yet even the best memory can't match the water bandits' intimate familiarity with the terrain. After all, it was pitch-dark, and some branching channels were hard to make out in the tense confusion, so by the time He Biandan reached the midpoint, he had already taken a wrong turn.

Worse still, both he and Shopkeeper Wu could hear the distant clamor and see the faint, flickering glow of torches.

Knowing full well they could never outrun the local snakes in these reed beds, He Biandan gritted his teeth and steered the sampan into a dead-end offshoot beside the waterway.

After turning into this shallow hollow screened by reeds, He Biandan drove his punt pole down hard, first grounding the sampan at the shore, then he helped Shopkeeper Wu off the boat. Immediately after, He Biandan went to the side of the skiff, braced both arms, and with a surge of strength heaved the sampan upright.

The upended sampan gurgled out a few bubbles, then quickly sank into the muddy water at the shore. He Biandan then pressed it down hard again, and wedged the punt pole into the riverbed against the hull, doing his utmost to conceal the sampan's traces.

Next, he turned around, rolled up his trouser legs, kicked off the rotten straw sandals on his feet, crouched down and hoisted Shopkeeper Wu onto his back, and began fleeing westward without a backward glance.

Their current position was beside a tributary of the Zeng River, which ran north-south. The bandit gang was at that moment searching along the waterway in both northern and southern directions, so He Biandan's only path to survival was to head west — once they reached the western mountains, they could make a long detour back to Zengcheng.

Unfortunately, heading west was no easy matter. The first thing the fugitives had to do was cross a reed-choked swampland.

By now there were no more waterways. Carrying Shopkeeper Wu on his back, He Biandan began trudging through the wetlands — one step deep, one step shallow, falling and clambering back up, struggling forward with immense difficulty.

"Young man, this truly wasn't necessary." After tumbling several times, Shopkeeper Wu lay caked in mud on He Biandan's back and said with a rueful smile.

In Shopkeeper Wu's view, what He Biandan had done really wasn't all that necessary: if they'd just endured a few more miserable days in the bandit den, and if the bandits kept their word, then once their employer paid the ransom they could have left safely. Why take this risk?

Yet the situation at that moment hadn't allowed him to reason with He Biandan any further. The instant the worldly-wise Shopkeeper Wu had woken up, he'd realized that He Biandan must have done something to the night watchman to get in, so he couldn't make a sound — otherwise he'd implicate the young man, and himself as well.

"My grandpa was killed by river bandits. In the end, we couldn't even find his body."

But as He Biandan pressed on through the mud and water, panting heavily, he gave a reason the shopkeeper hadn't expected: "My ma always said, even if you're beaten to death, don't become a bad person."

It was then that Shopkeeper Wu realized something: He Biandan was not like him — he was a conscripted reserve bandit, forcibly swept up by the gang.

Having pieced together the whole story, Shopkeeper Wu couldn't help but sigh: "Young man, you've got backbone! Very well then, this old man will accept your goodwill today. The two of us, old and young, will stake our lives on this one gamble!"

With that, Shopkeeper Wu gritted his teeth and jumped down from He Biandan's back. Letting the young man support him, the two of them struggled forward together.

Perhaps because they'd already used up all their bad luck, during the rest of their escape, the old man and the young man, bedraggled and half-dead with exhaustion though they were, encountered no additional trials like mud pits or venomous insects.

In the end, it took the pair one hour to flee the wetlands and reach the edge of the mountainous region around Luofu Mountain in Yuedong. Gasping for breath, they sat down on a patch of dry ground and burst into loud laughter.

Having reached this place, the pair had truly escaped with their lives. All they needed to do now was wait for daylight, find a village nearby, and hire a boat to Zengcheng County.

In high spirits, Shopkeeper Wu sat on a tree stump and said to He Biandan, who was caked in mud and collapsed from exhaustion on the ground: "Young man, this old fellow took a liking to you from the very first glance — it must be fate. Rest assured, from this day forward, as long as I, Lao Wu, have a bite to eat, you'll have one too. We're family now!"

"Heh heh." Though He Biandan was inwardly delighted, he was a man of few words and little learning, and couldn't come up with anything fitting to say. He could only reply with a foolish grin.

After they'd rested for quite a while, they reckoned it was already the small hours and the sky would brighten soon. So they got to their feet, He Biandan once again taking Shopkeeper Wu's arm to support him, and the two of them intended to follow the flat road at the mountain's base and continue north.

The next moment, both of them cried out in alarm and stumbled backward several steps.

Right in front of them, standing there as if they'd materialized out of nowhere, were several monsters. These monsters were indistinct, their forms only vaguely human, but the most terrifying thing was their eyes — several pairs of eyes giving off rays of red or green light, flickering unsteadily in the darkness, making one's hair stand on end.

At the sight of these silently appearing red-and-green-eyed monsters, He Biandan's first impulse was to turn and flee in terror, but then he realized: neither of them had the strength left to cross the wetlands a second time.

Besides, judging by the eerie, skulking look of these mountain spirits, He Biandan didn't think he could outrun them anyway.

The next moment, judging that there was no escape, the young man pulled out his sharp knife without hesitation: "Ah! Mountain spirits! Shopkeeper, run!"

Shoving Shopkeeper Wu behind him, He Biandan threw his whole body forward in a desperate charge.

In the blink of an eye, the next moment, as He Biandan lunged, one of the mountain spirits gave a casual flick of its hand, and a bolt of lightning shot forth. He Biandan was struck on the spot, his whole body convulsing from the electric shock. Within moments, he collapsed to the ground, foaming at the mouth, twitching uncontrollably.

Shopkeeper Wu, standing to the side, naturally did not run. In truth, he had already collapsed onto his backside. Now, seeing this scene, the old man was scared out of his wits. He scrambled to his knees and kowtowed repeatedly, crying out, "We are all good, law-abiding folk! We never meant to offend the mountain spirit grandfathers! Please, withdraw your thunder magic and spare our lives!"

The next moment, the mountain spirits withdrew their thunder magic, and then, in strangely accented "mountain spirit speech," one of them spoke: "Who are you people? Where have you come from? Why are you wandering about in this desolate wilderness? Speak the truth at once!"

"I'll speak, I'll tell all..." Shopkeeper Wu's heart settled slightly at this. He had realized, more or less, that these mountain spirits were also spirits of the Great Ming — they actually spoke Han Chinese. As long as they could communicate, there was hope.