Chapter 494

"Grandpa, it's the middle of the night…"

"What's wrong with midnight? Night frost is cold, the stove burns hot—this is the perfect time to cook chicken and slaughter goats. I love meat cooked at night!"

Hearing the voice inside, Li Yan suddenly froze.

Then, cold sweat prickled down his spine.

He finally remembered who owned that voice.

Outside Wanzhou City, the Chengdu rogue, beyond Tiancheng, golden bow, silver bullets!

Thinking of it, Li Yan's scalp prickled.

This "Chengdu rogue" was rumored to be the reincarnation of Erlang, the Manifest Holy True Lord—had he not heard this secret in the Netherworld, he would never have believed it.

After all, this was a deity forged from the faith of the people.

To possess consciousness was already strange enough.

To reincarnate as a human? That surpassed comprehension.

But Li Yan only paused a moment, then strode forward without hesitation toward the meat stall.

Dong dong dong! The rusted iron ring on the door was knocked.

"Master, wait a moment—a guest has come!"

A rough, aggrieved voice came from within, then the door opened, revealing a burly man with bulging eyes like copper bells, thick beard covering his face, and a greasy, fishy stench clinging to him.

"Is this Hua Zi? I've come for raw meat."

Li Yan's expression remained calm as he spoke the prearranged password.

"Young Master, you've finally arrived!"

The man's eyes lit up instantly, as if rescued by a heavenly savior; he bowed low, beaming with excitement, and ushered Li Yan into the small courtyard.

Inside the courtyard, a large cauldron had already been set up.

Beneath it, a bonfire blazed; two men, one tall and one thin, squatted beside it fanning the flames, their faces reddened by smoke, etched with bitter resentment.

The cauldron was brimming with mutton, boiling furiously.

Beside it lay stripped sheepskins—clearly two sheep had been slaughtered.

The "Chengdu rogue" had changed attire: clad in black warrior's armor, boots of oxhide studded with bronze nails bearing auspicious clouds, sleeves rolled up, wielding a curved blade, one foot planted on a bench.

He sliced meat, lifted jugs, and drank deeply, enjoying himself immensely.

Du Ping watched from behind a second-floor window, peering through a crack, trembling with fear.

Seeing this, Li Yan's certainty grew.

Folk tales said Er Lang's favorite food was mutton.

Sheep were one of the three sacrificial animals, common at rituals—but the people claimed Er Lang, the Manifest Holy True Lord, had a particular fondness for it.

Thus, every year on the fourth day of the second lunar month, the people of Shu slaughtered sheep to sacrifice to the God of Guankou; after the ceremony, they boiled the meat and shared it among themselves.

Legend held that eating this mutton granted one the same bravery as Er Lang.

How vast was this custom?

According to the *Yijian Zhi*: "Those who pray must slaughter sheep—up to ten thousand per year." That meant tens of thousands slaughtered at once, their bones piling into small hills.

Surely, even in reincarnation, this preference remained unchanged.

Li Yan now understood. He smiled faintly, ready to speak.

The greatest opportunity of his journey to Shu might well lie with this man.

"Li Shaoxia, it's him!"

Before Li Yan could speak, the burly man pointed across, face flushed with anger: "This man showed up last night, used sorcery to force us to slaughter sheep and cook meat for him—he's already devoured two whole sheep! He's a demon!"

He added, grinning smugly: "Boy, you're dead. Do you know who's standing beside you? His name will scare you senseless…"

"Shut your mouth!"

Li Yan's lip twitched; he swiftly silenced him.

Damn it—he'd almost been tricked by this fool.

He forced a smile, stepped forward, and bowed respectfully: "Brother, we meet again. What a coincidence."

"Oh~"

The Chengdu rogue, still eating and drinking, glanced at him, puzzled, then nodded: "Ah, it's you. Indeed, a coincidence."

He glanced around. "So this is your place. Don't worry—I only have a craving for meat, found a spot to eat. I'll pay well, then leave."

With that, he ignored them and resumed eating and drinking.

So it was just an accident…

Li Yan felt a flicker of disappointment.

He'd thought this man had sensed his uniqueness and waited on purpose.

Even if it was a misunderstanding, he wouldn't let the chance slip.

"No problem."

Li Yan narrowed his eyes, signaled the burly man to step back, then stepped closer to the table. "Brother, you're no ordinary man. Since fate has brought us together, may I join you for a drink?"

The Chengdu rogue blinked, then clapped and laughed. "Good! I was bored eating alone. Can you play drinking fists?"

Li Yan smiled. "The Shu drinking fists? Just learned them."

Li Yan smiled and said, "Sichuan street fist? Just learned it."

The Chengdu rogue immediately grabbed a nearby earthen bowl, poured Li Yan a full one with three thumps, then extended his hand.

Li Yan reached out and gripped it, smiling broadly.

Yet inside, doubt stirred.

Whether in Wanzhou or here, his spiritual senses had detected nothing unusual about him.

Whether previously in Wanzhou or here, his spiritual sense had detected nothing unusual about the other.

He was the "Chuanzhu"—he must possess a national sacrificial artifact.

But even at this close range, he felt no trace of it—so it likely had nothing to do with any artifact.

Or… was he merely an ordinary man?

Li Yan's doubts remained, but his face betrayed nothing. Suddenly, he raised his thumb and shouted: "One heart, I toast you!"

The other mirrored the gesture but called: "One drink, a thousand autumns."

This was the Shu drinking fist game, called "Jianghu Quan."

One finger meant one, two fingers meant two, and so on; a fully open palm meant five, a fist meant zero.

But the Shu had another rule:

Except for zero, whenever showing any number, the thumb must always be raised—colloquially called the "Unfallen Pillar."

Numbers could be called from one to ten, but must exceed the sum of both fists shown, or it was a "Bao Quan"—punished with a drink.

If the called number matched the exact sum of both fists, the caller won, and the opponent drank.

The call phrases varied widely.

Traditional phrases: "One heart, I toast you," "Two red joys," "Three in Peach Garden," "Four seasons' wealth," "Five champions…"

Or the Three Kingdoms fists: "One empire under heaven," "Two sisters cross the pass," "Three visits to Zhuge Liang…"

In short, countless variations, long since widely known.

The two had exchanged formalities; now came the real contest.

"Five champions!"

"Four seasons' wealth!"

"Nine springs of longevity!"

"Hahaha, drink!"

With company, the Chengdu rogue was in high spirits; drunk and wild, he tore open his robe and rolled up his sleeves.

He looked just like any drunken lout.

But Li Yan grew more puzzled.

Drinking fists, gambling, dice…

These games were common, but Li Yan rarely played them—his spiritual senses and perception made such games cheating.

Using cultivation arts to gamble was the act of the lowest scoundrels.

But among cultivators, these games carried subtlety: palm techniques, secret arts, illusions could be woven in silently, a silent duel of power.

But among sorcerers, such games come with strict rules—martial arts, secret techniques, illusions can all slip in silently, back and forth, much like a spell duel.

No technique, no art—just like an ordinary man drinking.

Seeing this, Li Yan naturally played clean.

But his eyes remained sharp; he could read the opponent's next move by the subtle muscle twitches in his hand.

So he deliberately lost, to keep the scene from looking too absurd.

As the last jug neared empty, Li Yan lost patience. His eyes flickered—he changed his call.

"Three-pointed, double-edged!"

"Nine transformations complete!"

"Four dogs follow!"

!.

Finally, the Chengdu rogue's gaze changed.

Finally, the eyes of this Chengdu magnate changed.

"Second Son Carries the Mountain!"

After Li Yan shouted these words, he set down his wine jar, stopped playing drinking games, and his gaze turned cold; then he shook his head and said, "Ruining the fun!"

Li Yan didn't care; his expression remained calm as he stared at the other man.

Some things, if left unspoken, let the other pretend ignorance.

If things continue like this, the man might vanish after just one drink, and Li Yan might never see him again.

Spelling it out might create an opening.

But to Li Yan's surprise, the man didn't ask how he had seen through him; instead, he pulled a silver ingot from his sleeve and tossed it casually to the butcher, whose face was full of confusion: "No more meat. Divide the rest among yourselves."

With that, he straightened his robes and prepared to leave.

Damn it, how could I let you run off!

Li Yan's heart raced; he immediately pulled out the jade pendant given to him by the Dragon Girl: "I've been entrusted by the Dragon Girl to investigate the River God Lord. If you have any orders, speak plainly."

He didn't know how to address this man.

Calling him "Senior" felt too distant; he might as well call him "Immortal."

The Chengdu magnate halted, glancing at the jade pendant in Li Yan's hand. After a moment of silence, he said, "He's long gone. I'm searching too—perhaps Nanchong holds clues."

With that, he shook his robes and strode out the door.

What the hell? Why speak so vaguely!

Li Yan hurried after him, wanting answers.

But as soon as the Chengdu magnate stepped out the door, Li Yan followed right behind.

After leaving the courtyard, there was no trace of anyone.

"Immortal, do you take the surname Li or Yang?"

Li Yan's heart stirred; he called out loudly.

His question was deliberate.

The Guankou God is the Sichuan Lord; worship of him has undergone transformations.

Long ago, people simply called him the Guankou God, and the people of Shu associated him with the second son of Li Bing. During the Tang dynasty, there was a tune called "Second Son God"; by the Song dynasty, the cult of the Second Son had spread widely.

Because some people in Shu used the name of the Second Son to incite rebellion, the court suppressed and slandered him, even calling him a demon god.

But the court's power failed to quell him; instead, it stirred resistance among the people of Shu. Eventually, the court relented and officially recognized the Second Son as a state-sanctioned deity.

Later, he even earned the title "Protector of the Nation, True Lord."

Like the Guan Sheng Di Jun, this deity was a popular figure, naturally drawing competition from many sides—whether he was Li or Yang was meant to determine which consciousness he now embodied.

"I'm your damn father!"

From the second floor of the opposite inn, a man awakened by the noise shoved open his window and cursed.

Li Yan's eyes grew cold; he brushed his foot against the ground, sending a pebble flying through the air with force, smashing against the man's window, spraying dust.

The man quickly shut the window and pulled his head back, daring not to speak again.

Looking at the empty, silent street, Li Yan sighed, turned, and closed the door, returning to the small courtyard.

Outside the city, the Chengdu magnate walked steadily forward.

He still wore the same attire—wide sleeves fluttering, stirring up winds that swept fallen leaves.

He moved with great speed; the barking of dogs grew louder, and a trail of footprints circled him as they ran.

The Chengdu magnate gazed at the sky, his eyes cold yet tinged with confusion: "What if I'm Yang? What if I'm Li? The world has no 'me'—why bother walking this path…"

…………

"Young Master, was that man or ghost?"

The butcher trembled, bit the silver ingot in his hand, then, still uneasy, dropped it into water; seeing it didn't float up, he finally sighed in relief.

"None of your business. Don't think about it. Don't ask."

Li Yan shook his head, then looked at the lamb stewing in the big pot and said, "This meat is rare, blessed. Serve me a bowl later."

With that, he climbed the stairs with quick steps to the second floor.

The butcher was baffled, but Li Yan's words made him suspect the man's true identity; he quickly said, "Don't sell this meat—save it all. Take it home for your wife and children to eat."

"Brother, what's the significance?"

"A high person does high things. If you understand it, won't you become one too? Just don't talk nonsense—tell no one about tonight's events!"

"Yes, Brother!"

After instructing his underlings, the butcher returned to his room.

Inside, two statues were enshrined: one with a black face, leopard head, and round eyes; the other with a third eye and holding a three-sided, double-edged blade—Zhang Fei and the Second Son God.

Zhang Fei was the patron saint of butchers; the Second Son God was the Sichuan Lord. Enshrining both at home was nothing unusual.

The butcher bowed respectfully, burning incense and praying:

"Protect us, Master Yi De!"

"Protect us, Second Son Lord!"

On the other side, Li Yan opened the door after ascending the stairs.

"Young Master, you must save me!"

Du Ping rushed over and knelt on the floor.

Li Yan frowned slightly. "What happened?"

Du Ping's face was grim. "When I reached the city, I happened upon members of the Blood-Transmitted Jade Emperor Cult. Seeing they were unharmed, Madam Wu said something had changed and told me to hide here."

"But just before dusk, I saw someone across the street—it was that boy from the second branch, accompanied by two Daoists, their expressions clearly hostile. They must have realized I'm still alive and plan to kill me."

"Just then, that man came in to eat meat. He only glanced over, and those two Daoists spat blood, then vanished somewhere."

"Young Master, I followed your instructions—you must save me!"

He wasn't a fool.

Li Yan and Madam Wu had spared his life originally to use him to infiltrate and dismantle the Du family from within—but now that he'd been discovered, he was useless.

In this world, useless people usually met grim ends.

"No need to worry. You're still useful."

Li Yan said gravely: "If I'm not mistaken, Madam Wu will soon send someone secretly to find you. They have other strong allies. The Du family is doomed. If you perform well, you might even become the family head."

After calming him, Li Yan asked: "Do you know where those people are hiding? I'll deal with them and gather some intelligence."

These Du family members were likely Ghost Cult disciples.

People like Du Ping were merely pawns pushed to the front.

"I actually do know."

Du Ping said: "One of those Daoists is the temple keeper of the small mountain shrine outside the city. On the way here, that brat was chatting happily with that Daoist. I thought they met by chance—but they'd been colluding all along."

"Alright. I'm leaving now. Whether you live or die depends on how you behave."

After giving further instructions, Li Yan descended the stairs, drank a large bowl of lamb broth, and felt warmth spread through his belly, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

He walked briskly into the cold wind toward the city outskirts.

Recalling the earlier words, he mused: "Nanchong? So the Daoist was right. I must finish this quickly and join him…"

(End of Chapter)