Chapter 255: Is Mr. Hong There?

The tall man hurried to the pharmacy next, where he picked up a prescription. The attending physician told him that if the old medicine wasn't working, he should try a new formula for ten days.

The new formula was more expensive, and he didn't have enough money, but he could only nod and agree.

The butcher shop was ahead, and he didn't want to go near it, so he deliberately took a long detour home.

As he stepped into the alley, he heard shouts of anger. Mr. Hong turned his head to see his neighbor at the alley's entrance holding a child and crying heartbrokenly. The few pieces of furniture in their yard were overturned and scattered, as if they had just been ransacked.

Could it be? His heart tightened, and he hurried home with long strides.

Along the way, the sounds of weeping and angry shouts from his neighbors filled the air.

Mr. Hong rushed home, taking huge strides. As soon as he pushed open the door, he saw the benches in the yard overturned, the bundles of firewood stacked against the wall gone, and the house door standing wide open.

He ran into the house to find his wife and the quilt on the floor. Everything in the room had been turned upside down, and even the bricks in the corner of the wall had been pried open—

He had hidden some emergency loose change in there, and now it was gone too.

"Are you alright?" he asked, carrying his partially paralyzed wife to the wooden bed. "Who dared come in and steal things?" Although he asked this, he already understood most of what had happened.

His wife's lips were pale. She clutched his arm tightly, but still spoke fluently: "The soldiers came in and looted our grain, saying we had to return it. I told them we hadn't taken any grain, but they took everything anyway!"

As a frail woman who couldn't move, with several burly men suddenly barging into her home, rummaging through everything, and even tossing her onto the floor, it was a testament to her strength that she hadn't fainted or burst into tears.

Mr. Hong's lips thinned into a straight line.

That's right. Those three young men who were beheaded, after stealing military grain earlier, had distributed it to the villagers at night, thinking they were heroic bandits helping the poor.

Naive!

Now that they had been caught and executed, the military grain distributed to the town had become the perfect excuse for the soldiers to go house-to-house, seizing grain!

You think you can just touch military grain? Hand it over!

Mr. Hong's family's grain was stored in two halves — half in the kitchen, half under the bed — but now it was all gone. What's more, anything of value in the house, no matter how small, had also been taken by the soldiers, such as the bundle of firewood in the yard.

There was nowhere to voice their grievances.

Though his heart was heavy, he quietly comforted his wife: "It's alright, there was nothing valuable in the house anyway, so they couldn't take much. Oh, I got my wages today. I'll go make you some porridge to eat."

His wife let out a bitter chuckle. "Where would you get porridge?"

After Mr. Hong said this, his own face fell.

The rice had been stolen, so where would the porridge come from?

They might as well drink the northwest wind.

A surge of bitterness rose from his heart. In the past, when he was full of youthful vigor, when had he ever suffered such humiliation?

His wife's eyes were a little red, but she held back her tears and instead comforted him: "I'm not hungry. You rest for a bit and calm down. Even if the soldiers hadn't come to steal, the old woman next door would have taken things anyway."

Mr. Hong saw her emaciated face, forcing a smile, and his heart ached. He had once been determined to give her a good life.

Yet, she had never enjoyed a single day of peace and comfort.

Mr. Hong first gave her some water to drink. Just as he was wondering how to get some food from outside, with a clang, the half-open courtyard gate was violently flung open, and noisy footsteps sounded from outside.

He had just finished wrapping his wife in the quilt when he saw three constables walk in from outside. They scrutinized him from head to toe. "Are you Hong Chenglüe?" they asked.

Hong Chenglüe slowly stood up. "What is it, constables?"

The constable in front tilted his head toward his two colleagues. "Take him away!"

The two constables, rattling the chains in their hands, were about to step forward and shackle him. Hong's wife turned pale with fright. Hong Chenglüe waved his hand. "Wait," he said, "first explain what law I've broken!"

"The authorities just discovered that your residency permit is forged!" the constable sneered. "Do I need to explain what that means these days? Be smart and come with us, and you'll suffer less!"

The Great Yuan dynasty prohibited the free movement of commoners. To register as a resident in another area, one needed a document from their original place of residence proving consent, known as a "residency permit." Now, a major war had broken out in the north, and Xia Prefecture had become a war zone. The prefectural government had ordered a strict investigation into spies and informants, starting with official records.

Precisely at this critical juncture, Hong Chenglüe's permit was found to be fake. What good outcome could there be for him?

Knowing the local government's typical behavior, if he were truly shackled and taken away, being thrown into a jail cell or forced into hard labor would be considered light punishment. The most likely outcome was being conscripted into the army.

Just a few days ago, the prefectural government's conscription order had been posted in Bailu Town, requiring each village to send five hundred soldiers to Dunyu to serve as a unified force for prefectural military training.

The pay offered in the announcement was quite high, and Hong Chenglüe had been somewhat tempted at the time, but the thought of his bedridden wife needing care made him abandon the idea. Moreover, weren't there plenty of examples of Haotian village officials not keeping their promises? Even if the pay was issued, how much would truly reach the families of the soldiers?

But if he were shackled and taken away by the constables now, he would likely be directly sent to join the army without receiving a single cent.

Hong Chenglüe's expression was blank. "My wife has been bedridden for years and cannot be left alone," he said. "Constables, please be kind and act as if you haven't found me."

"Heh, heh. A tiger brought low," he thought. He flexed his right hand, producing a few cracking sounds.

Among the three constables, one looked at the bare walls of the house with a flicker of pity, but the other two were unmoved. "These days, who doesn't have unspoken difficulties?" they said. "Let's go, stop dawdling!"

With a rattle of chains, they moved to put them around Hong Chenglüe's neck.

Constables used them to apprehend people year-round, as skillfully as herdsmen lassoing horses. With just one loop and a click, a suspect could hardly break free.

But Hong Chenglüe reached out and somehow grabbed the chain, pulling it back.

The constable lost his footing and was yanked forward, chain and all. The other man pulled him with the ease of grabbing a chicken. Before he could react, Hong Chenglüe's fingers, like eagle talons, pressed lightly on his neck.

Snap! His Adam's apple shattered.

Another constable instinctively drew his sword and was about to shout when Hong Chenglüe swung the chain and ensnared him instantly. It was too late to call for help now; the chain tightened around his neck, and the pain in his cervical spine intensified...

With a soft crack, his cervical spine broke.

The last constable, still standing, stared in shock. He knew that with their official badges and their inherent energy enhancement, ordinary strong men were no match for them. But this lean, tall man before them...

It wasn't until Hong Chenglüe's gaze swept over him that he snapped out of it and turned to flee.

Hong Chenglüe hesitated for a moment, not wanting to deal with him.

However, just as this constable fled into the courtyard, he suddenly flew backward and, with a thud, landed directly by the foot of the bed, flailing, his head split open.

He didn't make a sound throughout the whole ordeal.

Watching the mix of red and white spill across the floor, Hong Chenglüe frowned and took two steps back to block the doorway.

Suddenly, someone outside gently knocked on the courtyard gate. "Is Mr. Hong home?"

The courtyard gate was open, making the fact that this person knocked at such a moment both polite and eerie.

"Who is it?" Mr. Hong stepped out to look. The newcomer was over forty, with a round face and nose, possessing a benevolent appearance as if he brought good fortune, and carried a bundle on his back. He looked like an itinerant merchant.

Yet, it was this very person who had thrown the constable back, killing him instantly.

He reached back to close the door, and then, with a solemn expression, bowed to Hong Chenglüe and said, "My name is Wu Qing. I was entrusted by another Lord Hong on his deathbed to deliver his belongings to you!"

Hong Chenglüe narrowed his eyes. "Another... Lord Hong?"

"He was your blood brother, but his name is a taboo, so I won't mention it," Wu Qing said. "These are the things he wanted delivered to you." He took off the bundle from his back and presented it with both hands.

Hong Chenglüe opened the bundle. Inside, there weren't many things: just a thin leather box, a stack of talismans, a folding fan, and a letter sealed with wax.

The drawings on the talismans were very familiar; they were indeed from his elder brother's hand.

He first opened the box. Inside were ten folded silver notes of varying denominations, any single one of which was enough to lift him out of poverty and into a comfortable life with land and a house. There were also several mystic gems in the box, ranging in color from dark green to reddish.

These were concentrations of the world's spiritual energy, treasures that couldn't be bought with money. Even the new Governor of Xia Prefecture, who had just taken office, couldn't match the wealth represented by these few mystic gems.

But Hong Chenglüe set them aside without a glance, because beneath the silver notes lay a wooden toad carving, just slightly larger than a fingertip. The carving was exquisite, with even the tiny warts on the toad's back meticulously rendered.

He used his index finger to pick up the wooden carving and stared at it for a long time, seemingly lost in thought.

Wu Qing did not speak, careful not to disturb him.

Only when Hong Chenglüe had seen enough did he close the box.

His wife in the inner room, having heard no sound for a while, grew worried. "My dear Hong?" she called.

"I'm here," he replied. "My brother sent someone to bring some things. Please wait a moment."

Silence returned to the inner room.

Only then did Hong Chenglüe pick up the letter, break the wax seal, and unfold it in the courtyard.

The handwriting was very familiar; it was indeed his long-unseen elder brother's. The letter was also written in a code that only he and his brother could understand.

As he first unfolded the letter, a mix of emotions welled up in him. After all, their last meeting had been ten years ago, and now he could only 'see his face in the words,' separated by life and death. But the further he read, the more his emotions surged.

The signature on the last page of the letter, when deciphered from the code, was two characters:

Forward!

And next to the name, a remarkably lifelike toad was drawn in cinnabar.

Hong Chenglüe remembered his childhood, when his elder brother took him to play by the river. He loved catching dragonflies and small shrimp, but his hands were clumsy, and in the end, he usually only managed to catch toads...

"Claiming to follow heaven's will? Heh!" he scoffed, and then sighed deeply. "Do you know what's in the letter?"

Wu Qing shook his head. "Only you in this world know."

"My elder brother is dead," he said. "Who is your master now?"

Wu Qing bowed deeply, not daring to straighten up.

Hong Chenglüe's gaze sharpened. "What does this mean?"

"Before I tell you the truth," Wu Qing said, "please grant me immunity from death, Mr. Hong."

Instead of getting angry, Hong Chenglüe chuckled. "Alright, alright, tell me."

"I came from the north," Wu Qing said. "I was once ordered to serve Lord Hong for three years."

"From the north?" Hong Chenglüe scrutinized him more closely. "Are you a subordinate of Nian Zanli?"

Wu Qing shook his head, his demeanor surprisingly showing a hint of arrogance. "What is Nian Zanli?" he scoffed. "He's just an insignificant nobody!"