Chapter 102: The Sorrow of the Former Dynasty

The county town’s tavern.

Lin Chen hosted the village chief to calm his own elder brother’s nerves.

It wasn’t a high-end establishment, but a small tavern frequented by the town’s laborers and peddlers; the dishes, in Lin Chen’s view, were even worse than those at Uncle Zhao’s tavern.

At the table, Lin Liang, following Lin Chen’s instructions, said he had been fishing normally when the government office constables suddenly dragged him onto a boat—he had no idea what had happened.

He was soon released by his younger brother, and even now, he remained utterly confused.

Afraid his elder brother might slip up, Lin Chen changed the subject and asked how Gu Fei’s martial training was going.

“Chenzi, I can’t compare to you, but I’m confident I’ll cultivate essence within half a year. What martial school do you think I should join then?”

“First, cultivate essence. Don’t aim too high. As for which martial school, I’ll help you decide when the time comes.”

Lin Chen had already decided in his mind which martial school Gu Fei should join once he cultivated essence: the Mantis Martial School.

It cost little, and its realm breakthroughs progressed gradually—perfect for students of modest means.

After the meal, Lin Chen prepared to escort the village chief and his elder brother home, but Zhao Canghu spoke up: “Since you’ve come into town, Xiao Fei, go to Erniang’s Tavern in the southern quarter and buy me a jin of Shaodao liquor—that liquor’s good.”

“A Lai, buy some spirit money at the incense shop. Our village used up nearly all the spirit money during last year’s ancestral rites.”

Gu Fei and another young man from the village froze, but seeing the copper coins the chief handed them, they took them, asked for the address, and left the tavern.

As soon as they were gone, Zhao Canghu glanced around, lowered his voice, and asked: “Did Xiao Liang see something he shouldn’t have?”

At these words, Lin Liang’s expression changed instantly. Lin Chen sighed inwardly—old as he was, the chief had noticed his elder brother’s unease.

Though Lin Liang’s answers were good, he’d been distracted throughout the meal. Gu Fei hadn’t noticed, but Zhao Canghu, a man who’d lived decades, would never miss such signs.

Yet Lin Chen was more curious: how did the chief know Lin Liang had seen something forbidden?

Did the chief know something?

“Seven years ago, something similar happened on Poyanghu. Dozens of fishermen were taken away; about ten still haven’t returned. All we know is they were sent to a military camp, and every year they send letters and money home.”

Seeing the shock in Lin Chen and Lin Liang’s eyes, Zhao Canghu snorted: “Twenty years before that, the same thing happened.”

Lin Chen no longer hid it: “Chief, what’s really going on? My elder brother said he saw a fish corpse—enormous.”

“Fish demon.”

Zhao Canghu sighed softly: “You don’t know. In the entire Poyang County—I suspect other counties too—books from over two hundred years ago have vanished. Even our village’s chronicle only goes back two centuries. I’ve kept a secret buried inside me for years. I thought I’d take it to the grave. But now, it’s time to tell you, Xiao Chen.”

Beside him, Lin Liang rose to his feet, but Zhao Canghu pressed him down: “Xiao Liang, since you’ve seen it now, knowing won’t hurt. I’ve decided—when I can’t walk anymore in a few years, I’ll make you village chief.”

“Me?” Lin Liang’s eyes widened. He waved his hands frantically: “I… I can’t.”

He was so young—what merit did he have to be chief?

“Don’t refuse yet. I’ve still got years left. The fortune-teller told me, men like me—sly old foxes—live long. If you really want to be chief, you’ll have to wait many more years.”

Zhao Canghu took a sip of wine, then grew solemn: “Fourteen years ago, Poyang County suffered a great drought. The water level of Poyanghu dropped by a third. Our villagers found a wooden chest buried in the lakebed mud.”

“The chest had lain underwater for years, coated in some special wax—it hadn’t leaked a drop. Inside were a few taels of silver ingots, and a book. The men who found it couldn’t read. When I read its contents, I divided the silver among them and told them to say nothing about the chest.”

To villagers, a tattered book meant nothing; having found unexpected wealth, they had no desire to boast. The matter became a secret.

“The book was written by a scholar—not from our Liang Dynasty, but from the previous dynasty, the Chu Dynasty.”

Lin Chen’s eyes narrowed slightly. A scholar from the former dynasty, whose writings had survived three centuries underwater—this chest couldn’t be ordinary wood.

“Chief, what did the book say?”

“This scholar was actually one of our village’s ancestors. According to his writings, during the Chu Kingdom, every year they offered ten pairs of young boys and girls to the Lake God. If they didn’t, the Lake God would rage and send his fish demons to stir up storms.”

“Offer ten pairs of children to the Lake God? What did the Lake God want with them?” Lin Liang looked baffled.

Lin Chen glanced at his elder brother—he suddenly remembered: in the original body’s memories, lake worship involved only three sacrificial animals and firecrackers. There was never any concept of live human offerings.

“Drown them. Feed them to the Lake God.”

As Zhao Canghu spoke these words, his body trembled—just as it had when he first read those lines in the book.

Trembling. Fear. Fury.

Yet the ancestor’s journal recorded this as a long-standing custom—right and proper—because the Lake God was above all, and must not be angered.

“Didn’t the government stop it?”

“Government?” Zhao Canghu spoke slowly, each word deliberate: “Back then, the Poyang County government office also worshipped the Lake God once a year—offering a hundred pairs of children, three hundred livestock…”

As if recalling some horrific scene, Zhao Canghu poured himself another cup of wine and drank it down in one gulp.

Lin Liang’s mouth hung open—he couldn’t imagine the government government office itself worshipping a lake demon.

In his eyes, the government was like heaven.

“You haven’t seen that book. The ancestor’s handwriting was filled with despair.”

Recalling the despair in his ancestor’s journal, Zhao Canghu sometimes still woke in terror even now.

“Couldn’t they just flee?”

“Flee? Where to? Other places worship mountain gods, river gods… Common folk’s lives? Their children are food for these gods.”

Seeing his elder brother’s stunned expression, Lin Chen asked quietly: “Did the book mention the Liang Dynasty?”

“No.”

Zhao Canghu shook his head: “Our ancestor lived and died under the Chu Kingdom. His final journal entry was a hope—that one day, common folk wouldn’t be food for demons.”

“That’s not right!” Lin Liang suddenly blurted, then glanced around and lowered his voice: “If the Lake God is so evil, why do you still make us offer three sacrificial animals every year?”

“What do you know? For years, our village has sent three sacrificial animals into the lake every year—unlike other villages, who just pretend. If the Lake God… the fish demon… returns, he might remember our village kindly.”

Hearing the chief’s explanation, Lin Chen’s lips twitched—the chief was a shrewd one indeed.

Now, he had a rough idea of what was going on.

Before the Liang Dynasty, during the Chu Kingdom, demons ran rampant. The ruling class ignored the suffering of common folk—so eventually, the Chu collapsed, and the founding emperor established the Liang Dynasty.

What happened to those demons?

Were they all slain by the founding emperor?

If they were, why hide it? They should have loudly proclaimed Liang’s triumph, to win the people’s loyalty.

But if the demons weren’t all slain… where did they go?

“Xiao Chen, the village funded your martial training because I had selfish motives—I fear one day those demons will return, and our village will suffer.”

Zhao Canghu spoke openly, gazing at Lin Chen: “If that dark age returns, the nobles won’t care if we live or die. Only our village can save itself. With you as a martial cultivator, we have at least some safety.”

“Chief, you worry too much. The Liang Dynasty is as solid as Mount Tai, and martial arts flourish—this won’t happen again,” Lin Chen smiled reassuringly.

“Who can guarantee the future? But since you have talent in martial arts, strive higher—go as high as you can.”

Lin Chen’s gaze sharpened. The chief was right.

No one could predict the future.

But whether peace endures or chaos returns, strength was always the answer.

And since his elder brother had seen the fish demon’s corpse, and the chief mentioned the same event seven years ago, the demons hadn’t vanished entirely from Liang territory.

“Chief, let this end here. Don’t mention it again when you return to the village.”

“Don’t worry. I’m old, but not foolish. I know what to say and what to keep silent.”

Lin Chen had no doubts about the chief. He turned to his elder brother: “Brother, forget this. Pretend it never happened.”

He knew his brother couldn’t forget—but he had to say it. The missing fishermen must have seen the fish demon’s corpse, just like his brother.

The Liang government didn’t want commoners to know about demons—and they’d hidden it for so long, with no whispers in the streets. There was only one explanation.

The Liang government dealt with those who knew with brutal force.

Judging by the fishermen’s fates, those who knew were taken away.

Though Lin Chen had shown talent, before the iron law of the entire Liang Dynasty, he couldn’t guarantee his brother’s safety.

The government office had released his brother likely because Captain You and his men didn’t know the truth—the real government agency handling such matters hadn’t yet intervened.

“Younger brother, I know. I won’t tell anyone.”

Lin Chen patted his brother’s shoulder and said nothing more. He decided to meet Captain You privately to probe his knowledge.

The three dropped the subject. Soon, Gu Fei and the other villager, Yang Hao, returned with their purchases. Lin Chen escorted all four to the city gate, hired a cart, and only turned away after watching them climb aboard.

(End of Chapter)