Chapter 133: Green Water Beggar (This Chapter

The peddler took off the feather duster and handed it to Li Banfeng. “If you want to buy it, I’ll sell it to you for eight coins.”

Li Banfeng blinked. “Eight coins? That cheap?”

The peddler nodded. “That’s the price. Loss or profit, we’re even. I believe in fair trade. You know what eight coins buys.”

What did that mean?

The peddler made it clear: it was just an ordinary feather duster.

An eight-coin feather duster couldn’t possibly have spiritual awareness—so why did Li Banfeng hear it speaking?

The peddler picked up the rattle. “Some magic treasures are excellent, but every magic treasure has its cost.”

Ding dang, ding dang.

The peddler went to attend to other customers.

Li Banfeng stood in silence, clutching a pile of trinkets, waiting until Xiao Chuan and Xiao Gen were safe, then returned with everyone to Lanyang Village.

In his bedroom, Li Banfeng took out the Thread-Link Earrings and placed them on the table.

He used his Spirit-Sound Insight technique to listen closely to the earrings’ voice.

She was crying. She had cried for many days.

The reason was simple: she had missed Lu Dongliang’s meal.

A magic treasure forged by a first-layer cultivator shouldn’t have high sentience, yet after so many days, she still clung to her grievance over Lu Dongliang.

Was it the feather duster speaking—or had I heard something else?

Li Banfeng stared at the Thread-Link Earrings; faint whispers echoed in his ears: “Have pity on me, have pity on me.”

The cost of the Thread-Link Earrings is hearing sounds you shouldn’t hear.

Li Banfeng took the Thread-Link Earrings back to his personal quarters, letting her calm down first.

He gave his wife all the face cream, rouge, powder, and hairpins, smearing her until she smelled sweet, then placed the hairpin beside the phonograph.

The phonograph sang with tender emotion, whispering softly: “Thank you, my lord, for your kindness. I know you treat me well—but I have one question, may I ask it?”

“Wife, speak.”

“My lord, can these things be eaten?”

“Wife, can you stop thinking about food?”

“Huh yah! I can’t even fill my belly—why should I bother putting on makeup for you?”

…

At the entrance of Lanyang Village, a beggar covered in pus-filled sores held out a bowl, begging along the way.

“Have pity on me, give me something to eat…”

Lanyang Village’s folk were simple-minded, but not kind to beggars—especially not this one, whose sores covered nearly all his skin, oozing green pus.

The pus itself protected him: when he asked the noodle shop owner for food, the owner nearly kicked him—but seeing the pus, he retracted his foot.

The beggar got no food. He walked slowly onward, continuing his begging.

“Have pity on me, have pity on me, give me something to eat.”

…

Cultivator of Disease, Cui Ti, arrived at the center of Lanyang Village, raised his head, and stared at the distant wooden house.

Da Boyins had left. He feared offending the Chu family again and dared not linger in Lanyang Village.

So Cui Ti could only investigate Li Banfeng’s whereabouts himself.

“I wonder how my luck is today? Could I find him right inside that little house?”

The weather was cold. Cui Ti sneezed, wiped his nose, and was about to walk toward the wooden house when a strange odor drifted into his nostrils.

“Have pity on me, give me something to eat.” The beggar approached.

He had walked half the village and gotten nothing to eat.

That was expected.

Any beggar who knew the way wouldn’t beg in Lanyang Village.

Lanyang Village had no tradition of giving to beggars, let alone this one, covered in green pus—no one would come near him.

But Cui Ti wanted to get close.

He was drawn to the beggar’s pus.

So delicious!

How could pus be this delicious?

The rich aroma made Cui Ti instantly exhilarated.

The beggar was begging from Xiao Chuan, who had just entered the Artisan Path today and was in an exceptionally good mood.

Just now, Ma Wu taught Xiao Chuan a few characters; today, Xiao Chuan found everyone pleasant—even this beggar seemed warm and friendly to him.

He took two eggs and placed them in the beggar’s bowl.

The beggar blinked, then nodded repeatedly. “Thank you, thank you.”

He took two more steps, and Li Banfeng stepped out of the wooden house.

Had he imagined it? Li Banfeng felt the beggar’s voice was identical to the one from the Thread-Link Earrings.

He took two steamed buns and shoved them into the beggar’s bowl.

“Thanks,” the beggar muttered weakly, his expression grim.

Li Banfeng didn’t linger. He turned and left Lanyang Village.

Is this beggar after me?

Li Banfeng felt this beggar was no ordinary man. His intuition for avoiding misfortune told him to give him food—but to keep his distance.

The beggar held his bowl, his eyes turning cold.

Two alms in Lanyang Village?

Today was cursed.

He must hurry through the village. One more offering, and he’d return.

The beggar sought a less crowded path when he suddenly felt something wrong.

The pus on his sores was gone.

All his sores were vanishing at a visible rate.

Who?

Who did this?

The beggar turned to Cui Ti. “You ate my pus?”

Cui Ti froze. He hadn’t expected the beggar to recognize his technique.

It didn’t matter if he knew. Cui Ti smiled. “I cured your illness. You should thank me. Your disease was delicious.”

“Delicious? You’re a Disease Cultivator?” The beggar stared fixedly at Cui Ti.

Cui Ti stopped smiling.

In all of Pulu Province, few knew his Dao sect.

How could this beggar have such insight?

Cui Ti decided to kill him.

The beggar looked at Cui Ti. “You ate my pus. What will you give me in return?”

Cui Ti prepared to strike immediately. “I cured your illness. Aren’t you grateful?”

The beggar shook his head. “You ate all that green pus—so is the water of Green Water Bay still green?”

Cui Ti shuddered, instantly lowering his head.

He realized now: he could not kill this man.

He shouldn’t even look directly at him.

“You, you are…”

The beggar smiled. “Now do you know who I am?”

“You, you are the master of Green Water Bay.”

“And?”

Green pus churned within Cui Ti’s body. He sensed the beggar’s other identity.

“You, you are… my… my Dao sect’s Ancestor…” Cui Ti stepped back, fell to his knees, forehead slamming the ground, begging for mercy.

“Great Ancestor, I had no disrespect. Though I acted improperly, it was because I didn’t know your identity. I beg your forgiveness, I beg—”

Cui Ti trembled violently. Colorful pustules erupted across his body, bursting one after another, green fluid coating him entirely.

Passersby walked by, yet they saw neither Cui Ti nor the beggar.

Though both still stood in Lanyang Village, under the beggar’s influence, they had transcended normal human perception.

“I thought your Dao sect had gone extinct. Didn’t expect one of you still lived,” the beggar sneered. “I should’ve let you die with the rest. But your talent is promising—I’ll spare your life.

Go. Leave. Farther, the better.”

Cui Ti staggered to his feet and ran.

Green pus streamed from his body. He sucked it back constantly, refusing to let a single drop fall.

To let it fall was desecration—an affront to the Dao sect’s Ancestor.

The beggar continued south through the village, choosing a less crowded path.

Once he reached the village’s end without another offering, Lanyang Village would suffer a terrible plague.

And that plague would spread throughout Green Water Bay.

Under normal circumstances, no one in Lanyang Village would give alms to a beggar; the beggar’s estimate was correct—he walked all the way to the edge of the new land without receiving a single grain of rice or a copper coin.

The beggar silently watched the village, a faint smile appearing on his face.

Pustules on his body burst forth one after another, each topped with specks of green pus.

He noticed several young men heading to the new land to hunt, and decided to target them first.

The beggar’s form once again vanished unnoticed from people’s sight—even if someone now wished to give him alms, he would not give them the chance.

His pustules burst one by one, green pus ready to spread into the air, when a cold wind suddenly blew, scattering the pus.

Who?

This is Greenwater Bay!

Who could have dispersed his technique?

The beggar glared fiercely around him, but the sharpness in his gaze suddenly dimmed.

He did not see the other, but he heard his voice.

Ding le guang dang, ding le guang dang!

The beggar trembled.

How is he still nearby?

Didn’t he leave?

Even if he comes, I’m not afraid—I’m just following the rules.

“Fine goods, old brand name, worth the price—take whatever you want! Want to buy something?”

The peddler’s voice appeared beside the beggar’s ear.

Though he had prepared himself, the beggar still shivered and replied, “I don’t feel like buying anything today.”

“If you don’t want to buy anything, go home. What are you wandering around for?”

The beggar answered, “By the rules, I’m allowed to leave once a year.”

“No one said you couldn’t leave, but by the rules, once three people have given you alms, you must go.”

The beggar argued, “Only two people gave me anything—two eggs and a few buns. Right here.”

“Three people. I saw them. One healed your illness.”

The beggar still protested, “That doesn’t count as alms.”

“It does. Healing you isn’t alms?”

“He didn’t give me anything. I didn’t receive anything from him. That doesn’t count.”

“I think it counts.”

“It doesn’t count.”

“I think it does.”

“It doesn’t…”

“Don’t push your luck,” the peddler’s tone changed.

The beggar stopped arguing. His form vanished soundlessly, as if he had never come to Lanyang Village—except for the portion absorbed by Cui Ti, not a single drop of pus remained.

The peddler stood in the wasteland, leaning against his cart, lost in thought.

Why did the Greenwater Beggar come to Lanyang Village to beg?

Knowing no one in Lanyang would give him alms, was he deliberately trying to bring misfortune to Greenwater Bay?

Greenwater Bay is his territory. What does he gain by this? Does he want to destroy his own home?

Neizhou.

He was probably promised something by Neizhou.

The offer must have been high enough to make the Greenwater Beggar willingly abandon his territory.

Of course, it’s not conclusive—it could also be Waizhou.

The one who received the promise might not be the only one. Who else could it be?

The peddler pushed his cart deeper into the wasteland.

…

Li Banfeng returned from Greenwater City and went directly to the original site of the Song family estate.

The original mansion had been flattened by Li Banfeng’s roller, and rebuilding a new estate in time was impossible; fortunately, Lanyang Village had plenty of strong laborers—so long as he paid, many were willing to work. Though he couldn’t build a mansion, he built wooden huts—several rows in front and back.

In the center of the front row, the largest wooden hut was a dance hall.

On either side of the dance hall were taverns.

Next to the taverns were restaurants.

Next to the restaurants was Ma Wu’s large storage warehouse.

A hunter returning from the new land followed this spending order in the area.

First, he sold his goods at Ma Wu’s, his pockets surely full of money.

With money, he’d naturally want a hearty meal—the restaurant was right beside him.

Over the meal, people gathered to chat, recounting their life-or-death exploits in the new land; one meal was never enough, so they’d surely head to the tavern for a few drinks.

After a few drinks, the alcohol rose, and merely boasting to friends wasn’t enough—they could go somewhere else to boast about other things.

The dance hall stood right beside the tavern.

If you’re not used to this Western thing and want something traditional?

Traditional entertainment was available too.

Ma Wu moved the Jiqing Troupe to the back of the dance hall.

The troupe’s master initially refused, but Li Banfeng visited daily to teach the girls singing—five days straight—until the master no longer refused Ma Wu’s kindness and moved over.

The hunters indulged fully here: after dancing well and hearing enough songs, the rows of huts behind were inns, each offering ample space for activity.

Ma Wu named this place Mengchun Garden.

Any hunter who entered Mengchun Garden with money would leave with not a single coin left.

Even if he had one Hengguo banknote left, a girl would give him a farewell kiss, making him willingly hand over that one coin!

A gentleman loves wealth but acquires it properly—in Mengchun Garden, every cent spent is given willingly!

The dance hall was all set, but one thing was still missing.

Li Banfeng went to Greenwater City for precisely this item.

At Miaosheng Phonograph Shop, he bought back the wind-powered phonograph.

Xiao Chuan and the others assembled the machine; the dance hall’s rear window faced the wind, the windmill turned, the phonograph spun, and Li Banfeng placed a record on it.

This record was special: Ling Miaosheng had commissioned the famed singer Jiang Mengting to record a song to celebrate Ma Wu’s grand opening.

Jiang Mengting’s voice was exquisitely sweet, the melody playful and lively, the rhythm joyful; after listening for a moment, everyone couldn’t help but dance along.

“Mengchun Garden, Mengchun Garden, you’re a city that never sleeps—lights rise, music sounds, dance and song flourish!”

Laughter and joy filled the dance hall. Liu’s Paper Horse Shop was the first to send congratulations.

A paper figure silently entered Lanyang Village.

PS: Greenwater Bay was not originally called Greenwater Bay.

Dear readers, have a pleasant weekend. Such a thrilling story—please give all your monthly tickets to Shala.

(End of Chapter)