Chapter 1920: Chaos in Troubled Times

Qin Sang had pinpointed three possible locations, one of which was west of the Leixiao Sect. They were currently heading in that direction.

Traversing mountains and ranges, they reached new countries. Sometimes they flew through the sky, other times they descended to the ground, either mingling with mortals or visiting deities. Their pace was faster than before, and Qin Sang was eager to find the altars soon to ascertain their true origins and purpose.

The regions they passed through along the way might not have been prosperous, but they were at least stable enough for the common people to live comfortably.

The further west they traveled, the more things began to feel amiss.

Qin Sang instinctively felt the tense atmosphere in some border strongholds, where wars frequently broke out.

Continuing westward, ruined cities and deserted villages began to appear, utterly devoid of human presence.

In the more remote areas especially, temples and statues of deities had collapsed, their incense offerings long gone. Some statues had been decapitated, others had crumbled completely into dust, leaving a pervasive sense of desolation.

As they journeyed on, the power of the divine path grew increasingly weak.

In some places, the strength of a county's City God was no match for Gao Ruoxu, nor even for a typical county City God in the State of Liu.

Some monsters descended from the mountains to cause trouble and prey on mortals, yet the divine path dared not leave its towns to suppress them. When faced with powerful demons, they even had to worry about their own safety.

Qin Sang recalled the warning from the master of the Misty Water Temple years ago: traveling west meant getting closer to the Mulou Mountains, a chaotic region teeming with countless monsters. Cultivators from Yun Du Mountain spoke of it with dread, and even powerful figures like Yun Du Tian had been unable to cleanse the Mulou Mountains.

It seemed the mortal world was also influenced by the cultivation world; areas closer to Yun Du Tian were more stable.

Following this trend, things would only get more chaotic ahead!

Indeed, things turned out just as Qin Sang had expected.

That day.

As they flew through the sky, Qin Sang's gaze swept over the ground. Suddenly, he pointed towards a mountain peak ahead.

"Let's go down."

Marquis Luo immediately ceased his demon wind, gently descending onto the mountaintop. Qin Sang and Xiao Wu dismounted, and the surrounding scenery came into view.

It was clear at a glance that this place hadn't seen rain in a very long time.

The mountain was barren, and even where there was wild grass, it was a scorched yellow color, devoid of any greenery or moisture, ready to ignite at a spark. Yet, it was clearly not autumn yet.

The sun was just beginning to set, and the land still emitted a scorched smell.

Below the mountain lay a dirt road.

Hot winds stirred up the yellow dust on the road, sending clouds of dirt flying.

It was evident that this dirt road was relatively flat and wide, not a rough mountain path used by common folk. It must have originally been a carefully constructed official highway for the state.

Despite the lingering heat of the sun, the dirt road was swarming with people, moving slowly forward like ants, disregarding the scorching sun and the dust.

These people were neither merchants nor soldiers.

Almost everyone was emaciated and sallow-faced, dressed in ragged clothes, covered in dirt. Some were so gaunt they trembled as they walked, looking as if they might collapse at any moment. They had abandoned all their belongings, leaning on wooden staffs for support, driven forward only by sheer determination.

Some had rags or leaves covering their heads, while others were directly exposed to the sun, their expressions blank, like walking corpses.

Clearly, this was a group of refugees.

Behind the official road stretched a long, winding procession of people.

With so many people fleeing their homes, it indicated either a major famine or war ahead.

Qin Sang was not unfamiliar with such a scene; he had witnessed it himself before entering the cultivation world.

'Whoosh!'

A hot wind, seemingly from nowhere, swept up a large amount of yellow dust.

"Cough..."

"Cough, cough!"

Amidst a chorus of coughs, people covered their mouths and noses, closed their eyes, and waited for the oppressive wind to pass.

"Wah!"

Suddenly, a child's cry rang out from the crowd, then seemed to catch in its throat. Once the wind subsided, it wailed again.

Even the child's cries were weak, like those of the people around it; it wailed a few times before losing strength.

Beside the child was a woman with her head wrapped in a square scarf, her face covered in yellow dirt, making her original appearance unrecognizable.

She was likely the child's mother, her rough hand gripping the child's wrist.

The child looked to be only three or four years old, but she no longer had the strength to carry it.

Fortunately, the mother wasn't tall, so the child could still touch the ground with difficulty. But being so small, it stumbled and staggered as its mother dragged it forward, leaving intermittent drag marks on the ground.

The mother's expression was as blank as everyone else's. When the sandstorm arrived, she merely lowered her head slightly, but her grip on the child's wrist was like an iron clamp.

Startled by the child's cries, the mother's listless eyes subtly shifted. She looked at the child blankly, then instinctively reached out to wipe the child's eyes with the inside of her sleeve.

The child's eyes were irritated, and the sand was still in them, making it hurt more with every wipe.

A gentle blow of air would have helped, but the mother seemed to have forgotten, stubbornly wiping hard, stroke after stroke.

The child cried even harder.

Someone nearby noticed something was wrong.

"What's wrong with you?"

An old man patted the woman, kindly offering to help.

The mother suddenly went wild, pushing the old man away and clutching her child tightly, screaming in terror, "My child! Don't take my child away..."

This scene was heartbreaking, but the crowd merely stirred slightly. Who among them had the strength to feel sympathy for others now?

Not far away, a family was also slowly walking: a gaunt man and woman with three children, each adult leading one, and taking turns carrying the youngest on their back.

For a family to remain intact and survive this far in the refugee column was extremely difficult. But more people also meant more mouths to feed.

As they passed the mother and child, the man glanced at them. When he saw the skin beneath the child's tear stains, a strange image flashed in his mind.

Just yesterday evening, someone had set up a pot by the roadside, from which an alluring smell of meat wafted.

But with a widespread drought, even animals couldn't survive here.

His eyes fixed on the child's face, as if he could smell that scent again. His throat moved, and he instinctively slowed his pace, his gaze growing somewhat strange.

The child seemed to sense something, shrinking tightly into its mother's embrace.

His wife and three children didn't notice the man's actions and continued walking forward.

The man felt a tug on his arm and turned his head to see his own children, but the look in his eyes had not vanished.

The three children had their clothes stuffed with grass and had deliberately rolled in the dirt, making them so filthy that their gender was indistinguishable.

In truth, all three were daughters. Had they not been traveling with their clan until now, they would have been targeted long ago.

Not long ago, they encountered bandit soldiers and got separated from their clan. All their food was gone, and without assistance from their kin, they were starving themselves. How could they possibly raise these three children?

They wouldn't survive.

It was impossible for all of them to survive.

Impossible...

The man repeated this to himself again and again, and his throat suddenly moved again.

He dared not act against others, nor could he bring himself to harm his own children, yet a maddening thought began to fester.

He stood still, and his wife and daughters looked at him, confused.

The couple's hearts were connected; the wife saw something in her husband's eyes. First disbelief, then profound fear.

'Slap!' The wife raised her hand and slapped her husband's face, screaming, "You're insane! They are your own flesh and blood, your own children!" The wife's slap actually didn't carry much force, yet the man fell to the ground as if he had been struck with great force.

"Dad! Dad!"

His daughter beside him was frightened and rushed to help her father, forgetting her parents' previous instruction not to speak.

Fortunately, few people noticed her voice now; everyone's gaze was fixed on the man.

Seeing that the man could still get up from the ground, the expressions on some people's faces turned from expectation to disappointment.

The man covered his face, bowing his head, not daring to look at his daughters, much less his wife's gaze.

Just then, with a sudden thud, another person collapsed by the roadside.

This time it was an old man.

The old man was with a boy of thirteen or fourteen, likely his grandson.

These past few days, the old man's body had grown increasingly weak, and he trembled when he walked. Many had noticed him.

Today, he finally couldn't hold on any longer!

"Grandpa! Grandpa!"

The boy pulled hard at the old man's arm, trying to lift him up, but the old man's head drooped lower and lower, his eyes closed, and his breath became faint.

Suddenly, the boy saw his grandfather's body covered in shadows. He looked up and realized that a circle of people had gathered around them at some point, all staring at his grandfather with wolf-like eyes.

"No!"

The boy was terrified. He threw himself onto his grandfather, shaking his head and pleading, "No! Don't eat Grandpa! Grandpa is just asleep! Grandpa isn't dead! Grandpa isn't dead!"

Amidst the boy's pleas.

Someone grabbed the boy's shoulders, while others seized his legs, pulling him backward forcefully.

Seeing the boy clinging desperately to the old man, refusing to let go, more people squatted down on either side, grabbing the boy's hands and prying open his fingers one by one, starting from the thumbs, with sounds of cracking bones.

Initially, only a few people made a move.

The boy's desperate pleas only attracted more people.

Most people lacked the courage, watching from a distance. Moreover, an epidemic had spread just a few days prior, and the old man's health had deteriorated after that illness.

But there were too many people here driven mad by hunger.

"This is a chaotic era," Qin Sang said.

Compared to the scene before him, the hardships recounted by the people of Fuchun River were nothing.

He took Xiao Wu's hand and walked down the mountain.

By the dirt road, pots were quickly set up and fires lit.

Some held the boy down, while others realized there wasn't enough water. Remembering a spring in a ditch behind them, they gathered waterskins to fetch more.

Several people hastily moved the old man to the side of a pot, intending to strip his clothes.

As they busied themselves, they suddenly heard someone say, "He is merely ill and weak; he has not yet passed away. May this humble Taoist take a look?"

Everyone looked up at the uninvited guest. Three people stood up, blocking the way, glaring fiercely at Qin Sang.

When they clearly saw Qin Sang's attire, their courage immediately dwindled by a third.

In these times, only deities could offer them hope. No one dared to disrespect a Taoist priest, especially one with Qin Sang's dignified bearing.

Some of the madness in their eyes dissipated, and they reluctantly moved aside.

Qin Sang walked to the old man's side, reached out and touched his forehead, then took out a black pill the size of a mung bean and placed it into the old man's mouth.

On the dirt road, everyone stopped, their gazes converging on the old man.

"Grandpa!"

Those restraining the boy also released him. The boy finally broke free and rushed over, crying out.

They watched as, after taking the black pill, the old man's eyelids immediately fluttered, and his barely perceptible breath gradually became more noticeable.

What's more, a faint blush appeared on his face, which had been as dry as tree bark.

It seemed not only had his illness been cured, but his vitality had also been restored.

In an instant, everyone's eyes widened. The boy, full of joyous surprise, wiped away his tears and carefully helped the old man up.

'Cough! Cough!'

The old man coughed violently a few times, then his breathing smoothed. He slowly opened his eyes and saw his grandson.

"Huanlang..."

He raised a hand to touch his grandson's face, opened his mouth as if to speak, then suddenly realized something was different with his body.

The sharp pain in his throat was gone, the hunger in his stomach had vanished, and his head no longer felt heavy. With just a slight effort, he raised his arm.

It was as if he had just eaten his fill, feeling an endless supply of strength throughout his body.

The old man propped himself up with one hand on the ground, then stood up in an instant, even bouncing twice. He felt no weakness at all, as if in a dream.

Witnessing this, everyone's eyes widened.

"A miracle pill!"

"An immortal!"

"Quickly, bow to the immortal!"

Everyone went wild, rushing from the dirt road and dropping to their knees, prostrating themselves before Qin Sang.

"The immortal has come to save us!"

"Immortal, save us!"

"Save us!"

They shouted with all their might.

The old man, already aware of what had happened to him, pulled his grandson down to kneel and continuously kowtowed.

"May the immortal bless us! May the immortal bless us!"

These people were already utterly weak, and in their excitement, several of them fainted on the spot.

Qin Sang sighed, looking at the surging crowd, and said, "This humble Taoist still has many of these pills. There's no need to push."

He glanced at the iron pot beside him, frowned, and kicked it over. Then he gestured several times at the crowd, saying, "Set up your pots, and those who have strength, go fetch water and gather firewood, the more the better. Start fires to melt the pills. Line up, and everyone will get a share."

Everyone obeyed Qin Sang's words. A line of makeshift stoves was quickly set up, and firewood and clean water were continuously brought over.

Qin Sang ruffled Xiao Wu's hair. "Xiao Wu, you go light the fires."

Xiao Wu nodded and went to start the fires. She didn't use any supernatural abilities, but she also wasn't flustered.

Seeing a young girl in charge of several stoves, everyone felt a little uneasy. More importantly, they worried whether the girl might ruin the divine pills, and if they would still be able to drink the elixir water.

But it was an immortal's command, so no one dared to speak up, silently watching Xiao Wu work.

News spread through the refugee column, and people from both front and back converged, forming a long queue before the stoves, like a coiled dragon.

The family from earlier was quick to react, pushing their way to the front of the crowd.

The wife watched Xiao Wu moving back and forth among the stoves. Her heart stirred, and a glimmer of hope shone in her eyes.

Suddenly, she forcefully pushed her three daughters forward and whispered, "Go help the little immortal."

Xiao Wu looked up briefly, then lowered her gaze again.

The three girls nervously walked over. Seeing that Xiao Wu said nothing and Qin Sang didn't send them away, they timidly picked up firewood from the ground and carefully handed it to Xiao Wu.

Xiao Wu reached out, took the firewood, and added it to the fire.

Encouraged by this gesture, the three girls grew bolder and joined in the work.