Chapter 157: Heavenly Rain Descends

Once the war ceased, vegetation would reclaim this place, and in time, it would be as if nothing had ever happened.

Street battles had raged in the auxiliary city, leaving its houses riddled with holes and entire blocks reduced to ashes. As the Support Army passed through, they remained silent. He Yue's heart grew heavy at the sight. Having never visited Panlong Ancient City, this was his first true encounter with the brutality of war and the low value placed on human lives.

Just outside the auxiliary city, a newly carved stone tablet stood in the valley behind them. The soldiers who had fallen in the great Battle of Woling Pass were buried here. He Chunhua ordered offerings to be made and personally lit a stick of incense. The atmosphere was solemn.

He Lingchuan looked around, noticing that everyone was accounted for except one person, and his heart stirred. He quietly strolled away, walking several hundred paces. After being directed by several people, he finally found Wu Shaoyi beneath another large tree. Wu Shaoyi sat cross-legged on the ground, hands forming a mystical gesture, eyes closed and motionless. Above him, the crown of a plane tree swayed, its golden-yellow leaves rustling down with every gust of wind.

He Lingchuan carefully examined the ground in front of Wu Shaoyi. A large area was covered in new soil, its color distinct from the surroundings, clearly indicating it had been disturbed not long ago. Yet, green grass had already sprouted there. The grass here even grew more vigorously than in other areas, rarely yellowing even in late autumn. Why had Wu Shaoyi come here stealthily? Could it be...?

He Lingchuan sat down beside him, glancing at a strikingly vibrant balsam flower in front. He sighed lightly, "How many people are buried here?"

"At least twenty thousand," Wu Shaoyi slowly opened his eyes. "They died without even a tombstone." The government soldiers who perished at Woling Pass at least had a monument; those buried here had nothing. Yes, those buried beneath were rebel soldiers, Wu Shaoyi's former comrades-in-arms.

He Lingchuan took a wineskin from his robe and handed it to Wu Shaoyi, then retrieved two wine cups. Wu Shaoyi didn't refuse. He filled a cup and slowly poured it onto the ground, offering the wine as a libation. In that moment, He Lingchuan saw a trace of loneliness and despondency in his eyes. Those who had once shared his aspirations had either scattered or were buried here. He himself was fundamentally injured by a secret technique; though he could live for a few more years, he had to bid farewell to the glorious days of wielding a blade from horseback. Even Wu Shaoyi, sitting in this place of past sorrow, looked around bewildered, uncertain of his future path.

He Lingchuan filled both wine cups. "Come," he said, "I'll drink with you all."

The plural 'you all' registered with Wu Shaoyi, who was silent for a moment. He then raised his cup to He Lingchuan, tilted his head back, and drained it. After three consecutive cups, he finally exhaled, a fiery breath escaping his lips. This was his first drink since his injury.

"Young Master, aren't you afraid of Lord He's reprimand for being here?" he asked. "Accompanying a former 'rebel' to pay respects to 'rebel soldiers' — only Young Master He would dare to do such a thing."

"Isn't my father scolding me just an everyday occurrence?" He Lingchuan chuckled. "However, the Yin energy here is too strong; you shouldn't sit for too long." The government soldiers handled the aftermath of the Woling Pass battlefield. Naturally, they buried their comrades on the sunny side of the mountain, while their opponents' bodies were interred on the shady side.

"I just came to see them," Wu Shaoyi nodded. "After today, we will never meet again. Human lives are as cheap as wild grass; in a few months or years, who will remember them?"

He Lingchuan chuckled. "If that's the case, no one will remember us a hundred years from now either."

Wu Shaoyi stood, his face flushed and his steps unsteady. He Lingchuan reached out to steady him. Due to the secret technique, his cultivation was almost completely ruined. He Lingchuan understood that this might be the crucial reason for Wu Shaoyi's defection. Without his former ferocity, it would be difficult for him to command respect among the rebel forces based solely on his past prestige. Furthermore, his health was significantly worse than before; if he continued to hide and flee, he would likely collapse within two years. Submitting to He Chunhua, though perhaps reluctantly, was in fact his best option.

The two walked back and caught up with the main force by the river. The river water was clear. A small wooden hut stood on the bank, broken nets hanging around it, its wooden door closed.

He Yue exclaimed softly, "The flat ground in front of the door is very clean; people must come here often." Otherwise, fallen leaves and weeds would be the dominant feature of this place.

The group continued walking for a while when a guard hurried over from behind to report to He Chunhua: "The riverside hut we just passed contained a memorial tablet for 'Saint Master Jiayuan', and there were offerings on the table!"

He Lingchuan and his brother exchanged glances. Hong Xiangqian's full title was indeed 'Saint Master Jiayuan'! That someone would worship him in such a desolate wilderness was surprising.

He Chunhua paused briefly. "Were they raw offerings, or cooked food?"

"One steamed bun and three sour fruits," the guard replied. "Several bundles of incense sticks had burned down to the bottom in the censer."

He Chunhua waved a hand. "Don't mind it," he said. Since he dismissed it, the Support Army naturally paid it no further mind.

Zeng Feixiong whispered, "My Lord, shouldn't we remove that memorial tablet?"

"Look at the surroundings," He Chunhua replied. "Who would come all the way here to worship him?"

Zeng Feixiong instinctively glanced around. "Country folk?" he murmured.

"It's merely villagers seeking some solace. It won't amount to anything, so leave it be."

Wu Shaoyi, who had been keeping his head down, looked up upon hearing this, only to see He Chunhua looking at him. He was startled, then lowered his head again. Lord He was indeed considering his feelings. Though Wu Shaoyi had already pledged allegiance to He Chunhua, the latter clearly didn't wish to disparage his former master in his presence.

Only after Woling Pass had disappeared from view did Madam Ying finally let out a long breath. "The fighting here was far too brutal," she remarked. "When my lord retook Blackwater City back then, it wasn't nearly as tragic. Oh, by the way, where are we staying tonight?"

"Woling Pass has been abandoned," someone replied. "All passing carriages and horses now stop at Shuanghe Town. The civilians have already relocated there, and I hear a new city will be built."

Shuanghe Town lay less than fifteen li east of Woling Pass. Fengling Ferry was situated exactly between the two locations. As it was already late, the Support Army decided to rest for the night in Shuanghe Town and board their boats the following morning.

Shuanghe Town, originally a small settlement of just over four hundred people, was now tasked with accommodating Woling Pass's population and functions. Upon entering, the Support Army found extensive construction everywhere and the town bustling with activity. Woling Pass had always been a crucial trade route; southern merchant caravans reaching it would switch boats at Fengling Ferry. With Woling Pass now abandoned, everyone had to make Shuanghe Town their stop.

The Support Army had expanded to six or seven hundred people, and the town simply couldn't accommodate them all. They had to make do at the grain drying ground and farmstead east of town. Given the poor conditions in town, the He family also decided to stay at the farmstead. The owner temporarily moved out after receiving two taels of silver, leaving behind a row of four rooms and a threshing ground. Since the grain had already been stored, the empty threshing ground served as a large courtyard.

Supplies were scarce in town, and procurement was difficult nearby, so the Support Army used their own dry rations for dinner. However, Zeng Feixiong was intensely craving meat and called He Lingchuan to join him for a hunt in the mountains. They had initially encouraged He Yue to join them, but Madam Ying forbade it. He Yue could only watch longingly as the ten-person squad vanished into the dense forest.

He Lingchuan's luck held. About an hour later, they had hunted two roe deer and four wild rabbits. On their way back, they encountered a large black wild boar weighing nearly four hundred jin. The group set a trap. Mao Tao provoked the wild boar into a frenzy, and in its relentless pursuit, it fell into the trap and broke its leg. What followed was simple: The Support Army had meat to eat; it was a night where only the cooks were overworked. Alcohol was forbidden during marches, so everyone ate meat, drank soup, and played finger-guessing games until the moon was high in the sky, only then finishing for the night.

He Lingchuan returned to his room, shed his outer clothes, and immediately fell asleep. Having secretly had some wine, he slept more deeply than anyone else. In a semi-conscious state, it seemed as if someone was murmuring something in his ear. He Lingchuan ignored it, wanting to sleep a little longer. Then—

He was violently shaken awake. The force was so great it felt as if his head would be shaken clean off.

"Wake up!" someone bellowed loudly in his ear, sounding like He Yue. "...Get up, quickly, quickly!"

A few words were unclear, but He Lingchuan sensed the urgency in his voice and instantly sobered. He reached for his knife, asking, "More bandits?" He Yue rarely lost his composure like this, so He Lingchuan subconsciously assumed something terrible had happened.

"No!" He Yue exclaimed, dragging him outside, his voice cracking with excitement. "Emperor's Dew! The sky is raining Emperor's Dew!"

Emperor's Dew! He Lingchuan froze at those three words, unable to believe his ears. Yet, his body reacted faster than his mind, and he was out the door in two great leaps, leaving He Yue behind. Though the original body's owner was uneducated, the knowledge about "Emperor's Dew" was deeply ingrained, so He Lingchuan knew instantly what it was: a massive outpouring of spiritual energy from heaven and earth, so concentrated it descended upon the human world in liquid form! For all living beings, it was a priceless treasure.

Every member of the Support Army was restless, clutching every bottle, jar—or, ideally, basin or vat—they could find. They stood in the open, collecting the "rain" while also opening their mouths and stripping off their upper garments, eager to absorb every possible drop!

He Lingchuan stood outside, gazing up at the sky. A full moon shone, its silver radiance like flowing water. He felt a gentle dampness on his face, a fine, silken rain, and a fresh, tranquil scent filled his nostrils. The fragrance was indescribable, like the sweetness of ripe fruit, the scent of osmanthus in August, like fragrant blossoms kissed by the morning sun, and the fresh aroma of a mountain forest after rain and mist. In short, it was invigorating and intoxicating, causing one to forget all worries.

Yet, a powerful yearning arose within him. This yearning was akin to someone starving for seven days suddenly encountering a feast, or a desert traveler on the verge of collapse finally reaching an oasis... It was a heartfelt cry from the depths of his being: "I want this!"

He Lingchuan dared not delay. Imitating others, he swiftly grabbed two broad leaves from a banana tree grove and spread them neatly on the roof. He then took a wine jar from his storage ring, emptied it, and left it to collect the spiritual dew.

He distinctly remembered that Emperor's Dew, like rootless water, would penetrate the moment it touched earth, sinking deep into the ground to eventually form mystic crystal veins through subterranean movements. However, such a phenomenon was unpredictable and highly rare; no one could trace its path. All living beings could only seize the present moment. The most recent appearance of Emperor's Dew had been several decades prior. The fresh dew was incredibly precious; ancient texts claimed that a single drop could equal ten days of cultivation. Beyond improving cultivation, it could also nourish one's fundamental essence, allowing living beings to undergo a complete transformation. Of course, discussing efficacy without considering dosage was nonsensical. He Lingchuan couldn't verify how many milliliters a single drop amounted to, and surely the quality of Emperor's Dew varied, didn't it?