Chapter 141: Orange Grove

Leveraging his inner guilt from the phonograph, Li Banfeng harshly mistreated her, spent the night, and the next morning went to the orange grove again.

Li Banfeng wandered through the orange grove for half the day but still found nothing by noon.

Hungry, he didn't want canned food, so he climbed a tree, picked two oranges, and ate them right beneath it.

The fifty-centimeter oranges were larger than pomelos, yet their peels were soft and thin.

Peeling back the rind, plump, sizable segments emitted a unique fragrance; Li Banfeng, with his acute sense of smell, could not resist the temptation—he grabbed a segment and bit into it.

Sweet-tart juice flooded his mouth; whether the nine-tenths sweetness or the one-tenth sourness, each stimulated every taste bud.

The originally refreshing aroma surged down his throat into his nasal cavity; after that first bite, Li Banfeng could not stop eating.

In Waizhou, he was a poor man who had never tasted anything fine in his life.

But in Lanyang Village, he lived comfortably—he'd eaten delicacies before, yet none compared to this orange.

Why is this orange so fragrant?

Fat!

There's fat inside!

Not the greasy fat from animals, but semi-solid fat dissolved within the orange juice.

The fat flowed with the juice through his mouth; his tongue sensed its delicate texture, yet the juice refused to linger, sliding down the esophagus with the congealed fat into his stomach.

Not enough—still not satisfied.

Li Banfeng picked up another segment and slurped it down.

Two large oranges vanished in moments, leaving his belly swollen and round.

He collected the peels.

He didn't really want the peels—he wasn't short on money, and the peels were so thin that both oranges together weighed less than a pound.

But Li Banfeng remembered the old hunter's advice: try not to waste anything in this orange grove.

Such fine oranges shouldn't be wasted—even the seeds, Li Banfeng carefully buried in the soil.

Smelling the oranges on the tree, his appetite stirred again.

No more eating—if he ate more, his stomach would burst.

As he wrestled with this inner struggle, he suddenly caught a whiff of smoke in the orange scent.

Where did this smoke come from?

……

East of the grove, an elderly man in his sixties was tied to an orange tree, two young men waving torches before him.

"You old fool, you're already a withered corpse—why are you causing trouble here?"

The old man gritted his teeth: "Doing this, aren't you afraid of retribution?"

"What have we done? We didn't cut trees or waste oranges—what rule did we break?"

Li Banfeng, curious, stood behind the two youths and listened silently.

Indeed—what rule had they broken?

The old man snarled: "You burned the trees! Those trees are dead because of you!"

One youth grinned: "What's it to you if we burn trees? How about we don't burn trees—let's burn you instead?"

The other youth laughed, waving his torch near the old man's face.

Li Banfeng asked: "Why are you burning the trees?"

The two youths startled, realizing someone stood behind them.

One drew a short knife and shouted: "Who are you?"

Li Banfeng frowned: "I asked first—why are you burning the trees?"

Without hesitation, the two youths charged Li Banfeng, one from each side.

They moved in perfect sync—clearly they had trained together before.

Their short-knife technique was highly skilled; they were Wu Xiu, between first and second realm.

These two made it to the orange grove—hardly easy; they must have asked someone for directions beforehand.

But how did they cross the Tie Xian River? That intrigued Li Banfeng.

Li Banfeng stepped left, swung his sickle, and severed one youth's neck; then he sidestepped right, closed the distance to the other, and hooked the sickle into his chest.

"Don't move—or I'll rip out your heart!"

The blade nearly touched the heart; the youth froze.

Li Banfeng said coldly: "I'll ask again—why burn the trees?"

The youth gasped: "We're here to catch elephant beetles—they hide inside the trunks, hard to reach, so we burn them out."

Li Banfeng looked around; over a dozen orange trees were charred black. The old man, eyes wet with tears, said: "They've ruined these trees."

The oranges still hung on the trees; Li Banfeng could still smell their fragrance.

Such fine orange trees—just like this, dead.

Li Banfeng stared at the youth, frowned, and asked: "You waste such fine oranges?"

"We're after elephant beetles! These bugs are slippery—we catch thirty or fifty a day by hand, but with fire, we catch over a hundred! We came all this way, just to take back as many as we can, to make it worth the trip!"

Li Banfeng said: "Catch slower, take more days—there's plenty of oranges to eat. If you keep wrecking things like this, the grove will be extinct in days."

The youth, gritting his teeth against pain, said: "Comrade, tread lightly—don't cut off the path. You don't know who I am—I'm from Lanyang Village, Ma Jia's Fifth Young Master is my boss—dare you touch me? Have you thought of the consequences?"

"You're from Lanyang Village?" Li Banfeng feigned surprise. "I thought so—you're all brothers! Come, let's find a better place to talk."

The one with the severed neck wasn't dead yet; Li Banfeng dragged him along, took them far away, out of the old man's sight, and tossed both into his personal dwelling.

This time, his wife didn't hold back—before Li Banfeng even closed the door, she was already eating.

Returning to the old man, Li Banfeng untied the ropes.

The old man stood, stretched his limbs, and asked: "Where are those two lads?"

Li Banfeng said: "They went home. I told them to reflect deeply—they won't do it again."

The old man sighed, seemingly understanding Li Banfeng's meaning. He walked to the charred trees, touched the blackened bark.

"Those beasts—what sin they've committed! Are you from Huaziwan too?"

Huaziwan?

What place was that?

"I'm from Lüshuiban."

The old man smiled: "Lüshuiban is your name for it. When I was young, it was called Huaziwan—full of beggars."

"Grandpa, you've got the place wrong," Li Banfeng blinked. "Lüshuiban is full of rich people."

The old man gently stroked the bark, as if recalling old memories: "When I was young, there was a beggar in Huaziwan who caught some strange illness—he broke out in pus-filled sores, first white pus, then red pus, until the pus turned green."

Back then, Huaziwan had only beggars and the poor; getting a full meal was luck. If you fell ill, you had no money for treatment.

This beggar's illness was terrifying—his whole body oozed green fluid. No one dared get near him. No one gave him food. Even when he scavenged garbage from gutters, people threw stones at him.

Yet he didn't die—he just lived, neither man nor ghost.

A beggar oozing green pus!

Li Banfeng had seen this man.

His ears rang again with the man's voice: "Have pity on me."

"Young man, what are you thinking about?"

Startled, Li Banfeng replied: "He's still alive? Then he's got a tough life."

"Tough? Extremely tough—because his cultivation base was high."

"What sect? What realm?"

"His sect was self-created—nobody knew the details. No one knew his exact realm. Too bad he fell ill—his entire power became useless."

One day, heavy snow fell. He was starving, begging door to door, but no one gave him food.

He starved to death. On the day he died, many in Huaziwan fell ill—they broke out in rashes, which burst into sores, then oozed white pus, then turned green.

After a few days of green pus, the sick died. Those near them broke out in rashes too, soon oozing green pus.

People died in waves—Huaziwan nearly emptied. After that, Huaziwan became Lüshuiban.

Li Banfeng grew increasingly uneasy. He studied the old man carefully and asked: "When did this happen?"

The old man shook his head: "Many years ago. I can't remember exactly how many."

"Have you been to Huaziwan?"

The old man smiled: "Been to? I was born there. I fled to this new land to escape that disaster."

Lüshuiban was once called Huaziwan.

Everything began with a beggar oozing green pus.

Yaowanggou got its name from the Medicine King.

Lüshuiban got its name from the beggar.

So is this beggar the master of Lüshuiban?

Li Banfeng had never heard anyone mention this.

The old man before him lived in the same era as the beggar oozing green pus.

How old must he be?

Those who destroy orange trees in this grove die.

Is that connected to this old man?

Is this old man the master of the orange grove?

"Old man, have you always lived in this orange grove? Never returned to Green Water Bay?" Li Banfeng activated his Golden Eyes of Microscopic Insight, wanting to know whether this old man was human or ghost.

This old man had no ghost fire; he was clearly a human.

The old man nodded and said, "I dare not go back. Though that beggar is dead, I heard his soul still lingers. Every so often, he emerges, carrying a bowl, begging door to door.

If three people give him alms, the matter is settled. But if no one gives him alms, he brings disaster—exactly the same disaster he unleashed before he died."

Li Banfeng's scalp prickled. He had given the beggar a few steamed buns—that counted as alms.

Xiao Chuanzi gave the beggar two eggs—that too counted as alms.

Has anyone else given him alms?

In Lan Yang Village, the folk were so simple and kind—would anyone give alms to a beggar? Especially one covered in green pus!

Green Water Bay was the beggar's territory—why did he choose to beg in Lan Yang Village?

Was he deliberately trying to bring disaster?

Was he deliberately destroying his own territory?

Is a plague about to break out in Lan Yang Village?

So much time has passed, yet nothing has happened so far…

As Li Banfeng's thoughts raced, the old man suddenly asked, "Young man, weren't you just planting seeds in the soil?"

Li Banfeng froze, then answered truthfully: "Yes."

The old man nodded and asked again, "Why have you come to this orange grove? Are you after orange peels, or orange grubs? Or something else?"

Li Banfeng replied, "I came to eat oranges."

The old man shook his head and smiled. "Young man, speak honestly—before me, you must tell the truth."

Li Banfeng answered honestly: "If I come here again, it will be to eat oranges—because these oranges are truly delicious."

The old man nodded, believing him: "Then why are you here this time?"

"I came to find Blueleaf Poplar."

【122】 "Why are you looking for Blueleaf Poplar? To forge weapons?"

The old man had no ghostly fire on him—he must be human.

"No, I want to use Blueleaf Poplar to brew medicine," Li Banfeng said frankly, for he felt any lie would be instantly exposed by this old man.

The old man pondered for a long while, then said, "You're trying to use Blueleaf Poplar to counteract the poison from the Golden Core Elixir, aren't you?"

Li Banfeng nodded.

The old man sighed. "Don't even think about it. Blueleaf Poplar's poison can indeed counteract elixir toxins, but over the years, no one has ever succeeded in brewing it—not even the Medicine King of Medicine King Gully.

You're a good young man—don't risk your life over this. Once you ingest Blueleaf Poplar, you will die without fail."

PS: I think, under these circumstances, I should still listen to Copper Lotus.

(End of Chapter)