Where Immortals Once Walked-Chapter 354: Wuze

He Lingchuan watched Dong Rui’s retreating back and smiled faintly. “He’s actually been pretty good to me.”

Steward Zhao looked utterly baffled. “That counts as good?” That Dong fellow hadn’t once shown his face properly, hadn’t said a single kind word, and avoided Young Master He like he was dodging a plague god. And that’s pretty good? Young Master He’s standards for “good” are... not exactly demanding.

“You don’t understand.” He Lingchuan’s gaze lingered where Dong Rui had vanished into the trees. “Dong Rui turns on people faster than turning a page. But at a moment like this, the first thing he thought of was leaving rather than trying to give me a lesson. That means his hostility toward me has eased.”

That man traveled alone, came and went with absolute decisiveness. He was interesting, in his own way.

He Lingchuan turned his eyes back toward the northwest.

The Xia Province’s northern campaign on the Han River had already been over for more than half a month. He found himself thinking less and less about Xia Province and the He Family.

Even though danger lurked everywhere inside the Demon Nest, he had felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. The swamp stank of rotten wood and black mud, yet after breathing it long enough, even that became... bearable.

And if he did not have to betray his own heart, then he honestly did not want to go back.

Wandering alone, the world was wide. Best of all, he no longer had to keep staging that ridiculous “deep father-and-son bond” performance.

All that pretending was exhausting.

Besides, he was not truly valued in the He Family to begin with. Whether the He Family’s eldest young master was present or absent, how much difference could it possibly make to the war in Xia Province?

The original owner of this body and his father had their karmic entanglements, sure. But He Lingchuan had saved He Chunhua more than once. That ought to count as settling the score.

He just did not know how Shan Youjun, Jiao Tai, and that ape Ling Guang were doing. He had even bought up plenty of property back in Dunyu.

What a pity, he thought. If he had the chance, he should still find a way to send word back.

Steward Zhao asked carefully, “Young Master He, what is it?”

“Nothing.” He Lingchuan came back to himself, drew a slow breath, and found the air almost sweet. “Let’s go.”

The caravan moved on, entering Fu territory.

At last, there were proper roads, and travel became much easier.

Once they left the Demon Nest Swamp behind, the landscape changed quickly. Rolling mountains linked into ridges, winding streams braided through valleys, a classic hill country was before them.

However, the official roads here were not as broad and straight as those in the southern region of Xia Province. Still, He Lingchuan noticed plenty of travelers and common folk on the road, but many of the post stations and inns along the route were shuttered. Sometimes they would go fifteen to twenty kilometers without being able to find a hot meal.

In the end, they finally made it to a station before nightfall and ate steaming grass-wrapped rice[1].

Locals washed mixed grains such as coarse rice, beans, and peanuts, then stuffed them into a woven grass sack, and steamed it through. That was what they served to passing guests. Porters and petty traders ate it plain. People with more taste, such as like He Lingchuan and Steward Zhao, would demand extra fatty meat and mushrooms added in the steaming basket. That was what made it fragrant.[2]

Of course, it also made it more expensive.

While eating, He Lingchuan found the meat was not fatty enough. It was tender, sure, but carried a strange musky tang. “What kind of meat is this?”

A caravan hand happened to be passing and leaned in for a look. “Oh, field rat.”

One of He Lingchuan’s eyebrows rose. He had spent over ten days in the swamp, and he had eaten just about everything, so he was not actually averse to eating rat. This post station was in the middle of nowhere, and there were no villages ahead, no towns behind, no pens full of pigs or cattle, so where else would meat come from?

As they ate, Steward Zhao also explained that a few months earlier, imperial nectar had fallen from the sky and turned mountain and forest beasts into monsters. They had gone on rampages and attacked people. Many inns and stations had been hit, so they were too scared to reopen. That was why the road felt so desolate.

The local government was short-handed and weak. It was not until half a month ago that they had hired someone to clean up the monsters that had been terrorizing the region.

If something like that happened in the Panlong Dreamscape, it would probably be solved in two or three days. Even in Yuan, even around places like Woling Pass, where official strength was thin, it surely would have been dealt with within a month.

This only showed how feeble Fu’s power really was.

Fu was tiny, less than a tenth the size of Yuan, and smaller even than Xia Province under He Chunhua’s administration. Looking at the map, its territory was long and narrow like a blade. It was mostly made up of mountains and hills, perhaps seven parts mountain, two parts water, one part farmland, and even the farmland was not very fertile.

But precisely because its land was poor and because it produced nothing but miscellaneous ores from vast mountain ranges, its neighbors had little incentive to invade. Conquer it, and what did they gain? They would still have to station troops, manage people, feed mouths. There was no real profit, and a whole lot of trouble.

From that angle, Fu’s external environment was almost comfortable.

And as an aside, Fu bordered the Demon Nest Swamp to the west, touched the northern monster state to the northwest, while to the east and northeast lay eight small states.

Those states were roughly comparable in size. The biggest was only about twice the size of Fu. Fifty steps did not really get to mock a hundred. They had occasional skirmishes, but no one had the strength to swallow a neighbor, so the balance largely held.

As for the northern monster state, it seemed faintly contemptuous, too lazy to bother marching troops to clean them up.

Shortly after dawn, the caravan finally reached Wuze County, which was where the Gan Family was based.

It was also the liveliest county city in the State of Fu, and it was built within a valley. The main street was actually paved with stone slabs. Markets bustled, warehouses were everywhere, and wine shops and eateries lined the roads. Street peddlers threaded through alleyways, calling out their wares, though these were mostly smuggled goods from out of state.

Beyond the cramped, low single-story houses, He Lingchuan also saw plenty of grand compounds that occupied whole stretches of street.

For a county city, its scale rivaled two or three ordinary cities.

He Lingchuan grew curious.

What do Fu people live on? They honestly look like they live fairly well, at least they’re far from the stereotype of “poor mountains breed savage folk.”

He asked Steward Zhao about it and was told that while mountains do not move, people do. If they could not live off the land or water, then they had to go out and trade. Luckily, the State of Fu connected west to Beijia, east to the eight states, and to the north lay a vast lake, making it a hub for commerce and travel.

In particular, the northern monster state had a taste for certain foreign specialties. Its demand alone was enough to sustain a flourishing trade route.

That was why Fu produced merchants, and Wuze County sat right at the junction of the east–west–north routes, holding all the geographical advantage. After Lord Gan struck it rich, he moved his entire family here, and the business only grew more prosperous.

The caravan headed for the warehouses, while Steward Zhao brought He Lingchuan toward the Gan Residence.

The rich loved building big homes, and the Gan Family was no exception. Its grounds were even larger than the He Family’s compound in Dunyu. The high walls in front belonged to the Gan Residence. He Lingchuan saw a continuous line of dark roofs; clearly, there were many buildings within.

But when they reached the estate, they dismounted, and Steward Zhao, unexpectedly, led him into a narrow alley behind it.

He Lingchuan frowned, thinking Steward Zhao was taking him to the back gate. That would be disrespectful for a first visit from an honored guest.

Instead, after confirming no one was nearby, Steward Zhao suddenly turned and bowed deeply to the ground.

“Young Master He, what I said in the swamp... I didn’t mean it from the heart. It was for self-preservation. Please be magnanimous and don’t hold it against me!”

“What do you mean?” He Lingchuan’s tone sharpened.

“The Gan Family’s head was Lord Gan himself.” Steward Zhao gave a bitter smile. “When I said the Gan Family’s old madame could handle things, that was only a stopgap, something I said for Zhu Erniang’s sake. The old madame, Lord Gan’s mother, her surname is Mao. She spent the first half of her life in the countryside. These past few years in Wuze County, she’s never gone anywhere else, and she’s never dealt with business.”

If he had told the whole truth back in the swamp, would the Spider Queen not have devoured him in a rage?

He Lingchuan heard the warning bells immediately. “So what’s the actual situation?”

Only then did Steward Zhao explain. The Gan Family had originally been ordinary townsfolk. It was only because Lord Gan produced one truly capable, daring, driven leader that they entered commerce at all, and they prospered especially after making contact with the spider monsters in the Demon Nest Swamp. It was after that connection was made that the family’s fortunes had risen like bamboo shoots after rain.

The trouble was precisely that Lord Gan had been too capable, and he was still in his prime. The rest of the family only needed to enjoy the fruits of his labor.

He Lingchuan understood at once. The Gan Family was like a smaller, simplified version of the Li Family in Dunyu. Once the patriarch died, all the hidden “no successor” problems exploded in a single moment.

“So the things you promised me on the Gan Family’s behalf in the swamp...” He Lingchuan had no interest in other people’s family drama. “My identity papers and travel permit?”

“They’ll happen, they’ll happen.” Steward Zhao scratched his head. “Let me go report the death first. The Gan Residence will be wailing in mourning for a while. Please rest at that tavern up front. When their emotions settle a bit, I’ll bring you in and make introductions.”

He Lingchuan did not object. He had no desire to sit there while the Gan Family cried themselves hoarse in front of him.

So Steward Zhao sent him to a nearby tavern, apologized again, then hurried off toward the Gan Residence.

He Lingchuan chose a seat by the window, a quiet spot. He poured for himself and drank alone, idling away half the afternoon with wine.

* * *

About an hour after the Gan Family caravan returned to Wuze County, a young servant slipped out the back gate of the Gan Warehouse, wound through four alleys, and only when he was sure no one was watching did he sneak into the rear door of a merchant shop.

The sun was high, people were taking their midday rest, and even the dogs were silent.

Someone lay asleep in a bamboo recliner in the back hall, wrapped in a thick blanket, a straw hat covering his forehead to block the light. The servant leaned close and whispered, “Boss, something happened to the Gan Family.”

The man heard the words “Gan Family” and lifted his hat with a yawn. “What happened?”

The man did not look forty yet, and he had slightly darkened skin.

“The Gan Caravan finally made it back from the Demon Nest Swamp, but Master Gan is dead.”

The man snapped awake. “What did you say? Gan Qing is dead?”

“Who’s dead?” A second man emerged from deeper inside, his appearance strikingly similar to the first.

“The second boss is back, too?” Then, the servant repeated quickly, “I heard from those of the Gan Family’s merchant caravan that Gan Qing was ambushed and killed outside the Demon Nest Swamp. A gang of bandits then pretended to be him and led the caravan into the swamp.”

“Something like that actually happened?” The boss and second boss clicked their tongues in amazement. “What were those bandits after? Were they trying to switch careers into merchantry?”

The Demon Nest Swamp was filled with man-eating monsters. Other than the Gan Family, no one could travel through it, yet someone had actually dared test their luck.

“No, no, this gets even weirder!” Even the servant telling it sounded excited. “Those bandits were sent by a snake monster inside the Demon Nest Swamp. They meant to impersonate the Gan Caravan, enter the Spider Queen’s territory, and steal a treasure.”

This was absurdly wild. “Did they manage to steal it?” 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

“No, they failed. The entire bandit gang got wiped out.”

Both men said, “As expected of the Spider Queen. But the Gan Caravan still made it back?” When it came to the greater monsters of the swamp, few had good tempers.

“They made it back.” The servant kept rattling off details. “Not a single wagon missing. And not only did they come back fully loaded, but they also brought back an extra person.”

“A person?”

“A seventeen or eighteen-year-old young man.” The servant’s voice dropped with awe. “The caravan hands said this young man could move freely inside the Spider Queen’s nest. And the bandits’ attempt to steal the Demon Nest’s treasure was stopped by him, which is why it didn’t succeed. When the Spider Queen returned from fighting other monsters, she got furious and chased him, but not long after, they somehow made peace. The Spider Queen even gave the young man a bunch of gifts.”

The second boss could not help but interrupt, “Are you sure that young man’s human?”

1. Ok, some of you might know of zongzi or sticky rice dumplings, also known as mah tsang (for those of you who have Hokkien origins like me), and this is a little different from that. I think grass-wrapped rice (草包饭) is more from the Yunnan area, so southwest China. A key difference is probably that mah tsang is always going to use sticky rice, while grass-wrapped rice uses regular rice and not always sticky rice. Also, grass-wrapped rice is wrapped in many more different kinds of leaves as opposed to mah tsang, which is typically only wrapped in bamboo leaves. ☜

2. Honestly, this just sounds like mah tsang to me, other than the grass sack part. ☜