Unintended Immortality-Chapter 438: The Anle God of the Mountains

“This year’s harvest looks quite good.”

“It looks good now, but who knows if it’ll taste good or if it’ll be filling,” the old farmer answered honestly. “This is our first time growing it, so we don’t even know when to harvest it or how to eat it.”

“Ah...”

Song You stood up, walked to the roadside, and touched one of the ears growing on the stalks. He peeled back a bit of the husk and examined it.

As he did, he spoke to the old farmer, “It’s already close to the autumn equinox. If we were in Xuzhou, the crops there would have been harvested and dried long ago. I noticed that your Swallow Rice here looks like it’s ready for harvest, but since you haven’t gathered it yet, I thought perhaps the climate here was different.”

“You recognize this grain, sir?”

“I do, I do.” Song You nodded and smiled at the farmer.

He said, “With Swallow Rice like this, once the stalks and leaves have turned dry and yellow, and when you peel back the husk and see that the inside has dried out, the grains should feel hard, light, and free of moisture. That means it’s time to harvest.

“After gathering it, you need to strip the grains one by one, spread them out on a mat in an open area, and let them dry in the sun—just like paddy rice. Once dried properly, they can be stored for a long time, but you must be careful not to let them get damp. As for eating it, you can grind it into flour to make porridge, or cook it as rice, or even use it to make flatbreads.”

The farmer replied, “I’ll have to remember all of this carefully...”

“Besides, when Swallow Rice is still young, while the outer husk is green and the awn at the top is purplish-red, you can also harvest it then. At that stage, it’s tender—you can eat it raw, boil it in water, or roast it over a fire. You can also strip off the young kernels to cook with, use them in dishes, or even cut them into chunks and make soup with it. There are plenty of ways to eat it, and it’s quite filling.”

“Oh my! Sir, you’ve helped me immensely!” Unknowingly, the old farmer—who initially had little sense of formality—began speaking more respectfully. It was instinctual, an expression of his simple and sincere gratitude.

“It was nothing,” Song You replied humbly.

The Anqing swallows had brought this rice back from distant lands—a great and immeasurable act of merit. Now, by teaching a local farmer how to harvest and cook it, Song You felt that he, too, had played a small role in this change.

“Today’s weather is good. If you have time, sir, you might as well harvest your Swallow Rice from these two plots. If it rains tomorrow, the crop will get soaked again,” Song You reminded him.

Then, after a brief pause, he added, “If you truly wish to thank us, then just give us one stalk of Swallow Rice. One will be enough.”

“One stalk? How could that be enough?”

The old farmer’s eyes widened as he walked over, saying, “My family may not be wealthy, but when the crops ripen, a few stalks are nothing to spare! Sir, you are a Daoist. Even if you hadn't helped me, if you were just passing by and asked for a few ears of grain, I would have no reason to refuse!”

With that, he strode into the field and, with a few swift motions, began snapping off ears of grain.

“That’s enough, that’s enough...” Song You quickly tried to stop him. “We can’t carry too much with us, and besides, we only wanted a taste.”

“Alright then.” The old farmer placed six or seven stalks of Swallow Rice on the ground.

“I only meant to ask for one, so now I’d feel bad taking these for free,” Song You said as he reached into his bundle and pulled out a small bamboo tube. The tube was no thicker than a pinky finger and only half the length of one, yet it was exquisitely crafted, engraved with delicate patterns of embroidered clouds.

He added, “But instead of offering you money, let me give you something in return—another crop from overseas.”

“Oh?”

The old farmer had initially intended to refuse, but hearing this, he hesitated, intrigued.

He watched as the Daoist opened the tiny bamboo tube—far smaller than even a message cylinder—and poured out a single seed, no larger than a sesame grain. Then, right there by the roadside, Song You pressed the seed into the soil and took the waterskin that lay beside his bundle, gently pouring some water over it.

Before their eyes, the seed sprouted roots and began to grow. The freshly moistened earth soon gleamed with a hint of green.

In mere moments, a vine unfurled along the roadside. The vine stretched long, creeping along the ground.

Small, green fruits emerged from its tendrils, each slightly larger than a thumb. In just the blink of an eye, they ripened into a bright red, hanging like tiny lanterns.

The Daoist casually plucked one and handed it to the farmer.

“This is a fine vegetable I obtained while traveling overseas, from the Little Kingdom. They call it suanqie. It has a slightly tart taste and can be eaten raw, stir-fried, made into soup, or even turned into a sauce. It pairs well with rice and is quite appetizing. It is planted in spring and harvested in summer. Though it’s not a rare delicacy, it yields an abundant harvest and is incredibly resilient.

“If you like it, you can take the seeds and scatter them over any vacant land. Even if you don’t tend to it, once it matures, you’ll have more suanqies than you can eat every day. It will add some variety to your meals—and who knows, you might even be able to sell some for a bit of extra money.”

“This...” The old farmer was completely stunned.

The old farmer lowered his head, staring at the vine that had just sprouted by the roadside and the cool, tangible fruit in his hand. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. He only knew that today, he had encountered a true Daoist, someone who could wield real magic.

“Thank you, sir.” It was a long while before he finally expressed his gratitude.

Then, glancing at Song You’s small pot, which was now bubbling with steam, he added, “Sir, you are clearly a master who knows magic, but today happens to be the day when the people from the village below come to make offerings to the god of the mountains. This road is an essential path for the rites. To avoid offending the deity, it would be best for you to leave once you’ve finished your meal and rested.”

At the mention of the deity, his expression suddenly darkened.

“Oh?” Song You, noticing this change in his demeanor, became intrigued. “May I ask which deity the people here worship?”

“It is the local Mountain God of these great mountains.”

“And does this Mountain God have a name?”

“He has no name. We simply honor him as the Anle God[1].”

“I have never heard of such a deity before,” Song You remarked. “Was he officially enshrined by the imperial court, or is he a deity that the local people began worshiping on their own?”

At the mention of a deity, even the little girl turned her attention to the conversation.

“He was enshrined by the imperial court,” the old farmer explained. “They said that these mountains are vast, dense, and full of spiritual qi, so the government officially appointed a Mountain God here. That was more than twenty years ago.”

“If he was officially appointed by the court, then he is a proper and recognized Mountain God,” Song You said with a nod. “But why did your expression darken when you spoke of him?”

“Well...”

The old farmer instinctively wanted to refute him, but after stammering a bit, he failed to come up with a response. Instead, he muttered, “How could I dare to speak of such things?”

“It’s fine,” Song You said with a small smile. He deliberately looked around before lowering his voice playfully. “While it’s true that this entire mountain is under the Mountain God’s domain, I’ve taken a good look around, and it seems he isn’t here at the moment. Perhaps he is off cultivating elsewhere. If you have any strange stories to share, you can tell me freely.”

“It’s not exactly a strange story...” The old farmer hesitated for a moment before finally lowering his voice. “It’s just that this Mountain God has become more and more frightening lately.”

“What do you mean?”

“Back when the officials first built the temple, this Mountain God was quite well-behaved. Though there weren’t any noticeable changes in the mountains, nothing particularly unusual happened either. At most, sometimes people traveling at night or working late in the mountains would occasionally run into his figure and get startled. That was all.”

The old farmer’s voice grew even quieter as he continued, “But about a year ago, a master came here, saying he was sent by some State Preceptor to exorcise demons. That night, there were flashes of light in the mountains, and the Mountain God’s temple was torn down. But the next morning, that master never came down from the mountain. Since that day... the Mountain God has changed.”

“Master?”

“He was a high monk, and he speaks very gently.”

“Sent by the State Preceptor?”

“That’s what they said...”

“The Mountain God changed?”

The little girl’s expression immediately turned serious. Her gaze shifted to the Daoist, her eyes filled with contemplation. Something about the way this Daoist priest spoke felt oddly familiar.

But before she could dwell on it further, she heard the old farmer lower his voice—so much so that his words were barely more than breath, “The Mountain God came to us in a dream, commanding us to rebuild his temple, even bigger than before. After that, he instructed us to regularly offer incense and make sacrifices. Each time, we were required to bring one of the six domestic animals.

“At first, he asked us to bring chickens. Later, he demanded pigs and dogs. Then, he required us to bring horses and sheep. Eventually, even oxen used for plowing had to be offered to him.Most recently, the mountain god appeared in a dream—this time, he demanded that we bring young children as offerings...”

“Children?” Song You asked.

“Boy or girl, it didn’t matter. His lordship wasn’t picky,” the old farmer murmured. “If we refused, then we had to prepare all six livestock animals—not a single one less.”

“And what did the villagers decide?”

“Sigh...” The old farmer let out a heavy sigh and continued in hushed tones, “Although our village is remote and impoverished, we still understand proper customs. Besides, the government is still in place—who would dare offer a living person to the mountain god?”

“Last year in Yangzhou, some monks at a temple burned their old monks alive, claiming it was a nirvana ritual. The authorities arrested them all. No matter how poor we are, we’d rather scrape together the six animals than offer a child...”

“That’s no easy task.”

“Isn’t it?” The old farmer’s voice was heavy with worry. “This Anle God—his appetite grows bigger each time. Who knows what he'll demand next?”

“That is indeed a concern.” Song You paused for a moment, then smiled. “Thank you, sir, for your gift of Swallow Rice. Now, you should hurry down the mountain after gathering the suanqies.”

“You’re right.” The old farmer sighed and shook his head, saying no more. He bent down to pick the small red fruits, gathering them into the folds of his clothing before heading back down the mountain.

When Song You turned around, the little girl in her tricolored robe was curled up beside the fire, small and still. She tilted her head up, staring at him without blinking. The small pot of porridge steamed, warm and fragrant.

“The porridge is ready.”

“Many thanks, Lady Calico.”

“You’re welcome!”

Song You sat cross-legged and scooped himself a bowl of porridge—this would be today’s roadside lunch.

The porridge had dried fish in it, giving it a rich and savory taste. Before long, the sudden sound of wind instruments and drums filled the air.

Holding his half-full bowl, Song You turned his gaze down the official road. Just around the bend, a procession was approaching, playing gongs and drums as they moved. Behind them, some carried an incense altar, while others led animals meant as offerings. Just as the old farmer had said, there were cattle, sheep, horses, pigs, dogs, and chickens—all adorned with red cloth sashes.

When the procession spotted the Daoist resting by the roadside, they seemed slightly surprised. Some even glanced at the few stalks of Swallow Rice beside his bundle, frowning. However, no one stopped walking, nor did they say anything to him.

“Lady Calico, I’ll need a little help from you,” Song You said quietly, turning to the little girl.

“Hmm? What kind of help?” She blinked up at him, meeting his gaze. Mimicking his tone, she lowered her voice as well. But before Song You could answer, she spoke again, “Alright.” freewёbnoνel.com

“It is, of course, to subdue demons and eliminate evil...” Song You’s voice dropped even lower.

“Subdue demons and eliminate evil?”

The little girl leaned forward slightly, lowering her head just as he had, and her voice became even softer.

Yet, despite whispering, her expression was incredibly serious. She looked absolutely adorable.

1. 安乐 (Anle) means peace and happiness, comfort and ease, or tranquility and joy ☜