Chapter 60: Jiang Shisan

Before he could figure it out, a clamor of noise came from the distance. Yang Er lifted his gaze and vaguely saw, amid the burned and collapsed ruins of the front hall, several dozen people seemingly at work, busy with something unknown.

Craning his neck to look while following Ping Laosan to the door of the dilapidated side hall, Yang Er saw seven or eight people sitting there drinking tea to beat the heat. He didn't recognize any of them, except for one man with a mole on his forehead — him, it was impossible not to recognize. As one of the most conspicuous newly ascendant favorites in the sect after the change of regime, Hu Xian, Great Lord Hu, who was specially tasked with training newcomers, appearing here made Yang Er's heart go thump.

After Ping Laosan went up and exchanged a few words with Hu Xian, he turned back, patted Yang Er on the shoulder, gave a meaningful smile, and then turned and left.

By now, Yang Er had already vaguely sensed that he might have been sold out by Hu Zhengqi. This Moyun Temple was likely already booked out by Hu Xian, and who knew what shady business they were up to.

Yet at this moment, there was no room for him to think it over carefully. Seeing Hu Xian look his way, Yang Er's stern tightened. He hurriedly plastered his face with smiles, stepped forward to salute and pay his respects.

What surprised him was yet to come: Great Lord Hu Xian was not even the one in charge here. After Yang Er saluted, Hu Xian merely glanced at him, then immediately put on a fawning smile, turned his head, and whispered a few words to a big man sitting in the seat of honor.

This big man was bald, with a face full of brutish flesh, stripped to the waist. His pale, knotted muscles gleamed with oil, and his frame was truly twice as broad and thick as Yang Er's. Sitting there, he looked exactly like a bear panther. In one hand he gently waved a palm-leaf fan, and at his waist hung a leather case, from which half a gleaming silver handle protruded.

After stealing a glance at the big man, Yang Er quickly lowered his head. The next moment, a question in a strangely accented but very mild tone sounded by his ear: "What's your name, brother?"

"Replying to the Great Lord, it's Yang Er."

"Yo, that name sounds dull. How old are you, brother?"

"Seventeen."

After thoroughly questioning Yang Er about his background from start to finish, the big man nodded with satisfaction. "This kid's not bad. I like him. Looks clever right off. Old Hu, take him to get washed up. After that, give him food and the reward pill — all according to procedure."

"Great Master Wei can rest assured, Hu Xian understands."

And so, in a fog of confusion, Yang Er followed Hu Xian toward the rear of the temple.

The Zhong He ran through Hangzhou City, connecting to the Grand Canal, joining Wulin Gate in the north and exiting at Fengshan Gate in the south. It was the busiest river channel in the city. From south to north, nine stone bridges spanned the river. Every day, a constant stream of pedestrians crossed the bridges while boats plied endlessly beneath them — a scene of bustling activity.

Dengyun Bridge was right beside the Examination Hall in the north of the city. Among the nine bridges, it was the one closest to Wulin Gate and served as a vital thoroughfare. Even now, when the sky was just barely showing the white of a fish's belly, early risers heading to work were already crossing the bridge in twos and threes.

The people on the bridge rose early to set out, but the people beneath the bridge were unwilling to wake — or rather, could no longer wake.

Jiang Shisan had been lying under Dengyun Bridge for two full days.

Ever since he had collapsed from hunger under the bridge two days ago, he had never stood up again. Only fifteen years old, having begged his way all the way from Chuzhou to Hangzhou, Jiang Shisan now lay on the muddy ground beneath Dengyun Bridge. Only his two eyes still rolled weakly and powerlessly. In his heart, he knew clearly that he was not far from death.

Summoning the last shred of his strength, he turned his head to the side, wanting to take one final look at his brothers who had shared his hardships.

Beneath the tattered straw mat, besides Jiang Shisan, there were three other people, equally motionless — perhaps corpses by now. A foul stench emanated from under the mat. Jiang Shisan remembered that before his last bout of unconsciousness, there had been six or seven people under the bridge. He never imagined that upon waking, only half remained.

The early morning sun rose, and a ray of golden light spilled over. Seeing the sunlight, Jiang Shisan felt a familiar wave of dizziness. In a daze, a spirit boat seemed to drift over from the Zhong He. Jiang Shisan saw his deceased father and mother standing at the bow, waving toward him. He hurriedly cried out, "Father, Mother, take your son with you. Your son can't hold on any longer."

He closed his eyes.

With a splash, the spirit boat docked at the bridge.

There were no ghosts on the boat; instead, two living men jumped down. Both were wearing coarse hemp clothes, with white cloth wrapped over their mouths and noses. They walked over, lifted the straw mat, and checked the breath of each person beneath it one by one. One of them turned back and said in a muffled voice toward the bow, "Bone Lord, only one still has breath left."

Bone Lord was Old Bone, the chief thief of the crematorium. During the Beggar Sect's Fire Merge, he had played it by ear, pledged allegiance to Zhou Tong on the spot, and thus kept his position afterward. Old Bone's job was simple: he led his men all over the city collecting the dead who had fallen by the roadside, then transported the corpses back to the crematorium for burning and burial.

Wearing a bamboo hat and dressed like an old farmer, Bone Lord was currently sitting cross-legged at the bow, smoking his pipe. Hearing his subordinate's report, Old Bone tapped his pipe stem against the bow. "You felt breath, but to my eyes, there's none left. Load them all up."

Before long, five corpses had been carried onto the boat. Old Bone swept a glance over Jiang Shisan, the last to be brought aboard, and said flatly, "Give him a sip of water. Cast off."

The flat-bottomed boat, flying a plain white banner with no inscription, started moving again. It stopped and went, traveling south along the Zhong He, occasionally pausing along the way to haul two more corpses aboard. It continued until the boat exited the Fengshan Water Gate, then followed the Tiesha River around back to Wulipu east of the city, where all the corpses on board were unloaded at the crematorium. Then it quietly set out again, heading all the way north, and finally docked in the river fork in front of Moyun Temple.

Not long after, the people who came out from the temple completed the handover with Old Bone on the boat. Jiang Shisan and three others who were barely clinging to life were carried back into Moyun Temple.

He did not know how much time had passed when he slowly awoke from his coma.

The first thing he saw upon waking was a strange face, painted purple and smeared red, staring right at him.

This must be Horse-Face. I've probably arrived in the Underworld, Jiang Shisan thought.

The next moment, however, "Horse-Face" spoke in a thick Hangzhou local accent: "You're finally awake. I'll go get you some congee." With that, the person rose and left. Jiang Shisan, whose thoughts were still moving extremely sluggishly, could not make sense of the situation at that moment. It was not until "Horse-Face" spooned a mouthful of steaming rice congee into his mouth that his spirit finally returned, and he realized he was still in the world of the living. "Horse-Face" was just a living person, after all — it was only that the large patches of purple-red birthmarks on his face, combined with his completely bald head, made him look at first glance like a ghost.

After Jiang Shisan slowly finished half a bowl of rice congee, his spirits rallied considerably. He discovered he was lying in a dilapidated hall, with straw padding beneath him and a straw mat covering his body. Inside the room, four other people lay just like him. The only one up and about was brother "Horse-Face."

"I do not know my benefactor's honored name. Shisan gives many thanks," Jiang Shisan slowly opened his mouth and asked in a hoarse voice.

"I'm Yang Er. I don't count as your benefactor. The one taking you in is someone else," Yang Er said after baring his teeth in a grin.

"Oh, so it is Brother Yang before me. May I ask what place this is?"