Chapter 100: Yang Xiaohai

Yang Xiaohai groggily opened his eyes. When he saw the paper window outside letting in some light, he threw off his blanket and began to dress.

"Creak!" The kitchen door was pushed open. He went to the water vat and checked the water inside. Realizing it wasn't enough, he picked up a carrying pole, hoisted two empty wooden buckets, and headed out the door.

"My senior brothers and sisters will need to wash up after they wake, and then I still have to cook porridge. This much water isn't enough."

As a Taoist acolyte at Qingfeng Temple, Yang Xiaohai, though only ten years old, was proficient in everything: cooking, washing clothes, and mending garments. He even knew a little about the medicinal properties of some alchemy ingredients.

These skills were forced upon him. Some weren't, and those who weren't had already died.

In that dark and dismal Taoist temple, the only thing he truly learned was that a person must be useful; useless people were garbage.

If his senior brothers and sisters ever decided they didn't want to carry a burden, the one still snoring in bed should be the first to go.

Yang Xiaohai actually harbored a secret no one else knew: the home address he had given was fake. He had no home at all.

He now just hoped this journey could continue indefinitely, so he would always have food to eat.

He was different from the others. When he first went to Qingfeng Temple, other children were either sold or stolen; Yang Xiaohai went willingly, solely because someone told him that place offered enough food to eat.

As soon as he stepped out of the courtyard gate, Yang Xiaohai bowed to the woman practicing swordplay in the distance. "Good morning, Senior Sister."

Chun Xiaoman, however, had no time for him; she was completely absorbed in studying the sword manual in front of her.

Yang Xiaohai was already accustomed to this. Lately, his Senior Sister, who was covered in black fur, spent all her time practicing swordplay when she wasn't eating or sleeping.

Accompanied by the damp morning mist, he walked alone down the deserted path.

"Could I ask Senior Sister to teach me swordplay too? If I learn, even if I have to go back to being a beggar someday, no one would dare bully me."

"But would Senior Sister be willing? Junior Sister Xiaoman usually has a very indifferent nature."

Lost in thought, Yang Xiaohai arrived at the village pond and began drawing water.

Suddenly, a large mass of dark figures emerged from the hazy morning mist in the distance, startling him.

However, he quickly lost his fear because the dark figures were people—a group of ragged, soot-faced beggars. He used to be one of them.

Seeing them sniffling and trembling, it was clear they hadn't lit a fire when they slept last night.

Compared to Yang Xiaohai's reaction, the beggars were also startled.

After confirming again that it was a living person, the group of beggars pushed forward a small, one-eared beggar.

This small, one-eared beggar was dull-witted, hesitating and dawdling there.

Just as Yang Xiaohai was about to leave with his water, an old beggar walked over, shoved the small beggar to the ground, then stooped down as much as possible and, with a fawning smile, asked Yang Xiaohai, "Little child, can I ask something? Is this Wujia Village?"

"There's no one you're looking for here. It's all empty, everything's gone."

Yang Xiaohai's words seemed to make the other person even more agitated; his flushed, rosy nose turned even redder.

A trembling finger pointed around at everything. "So these houses and the land around them, they're all ownerless, right?!"

Yang Xiaohai didn't want to speak to the person who had kicked the young beggar, so he turned and left.

Back in the kitchen, he emptied the water from the buckets into the vat, wiped the sweat from his forehead, picked up the carrying pole again, and continued towards the door.

Such a large vat couldn't be filled in one trip; it would take several.

When he came out again, he could see the beggars had broken into the surrounding empty houses, rummaging for something.

They certainly wouldn't find anything valuable. Anything of worth had long been taken by those who left, and whatever wasn't taken had been collected by him and Senior Brother Gouwa.

But these beggars didn't care; even finding a tattered piece of clothing made them jump with joy.

By the time Yang Xiaohai came out for the third time, he saw some of the beggars fighting, though he didn't know what they were squabbling over.

"Don't stay here! This place is evil, things can easily go wrong!" Yang Xiaohai warned his former companions, but no one listened to him.

By the fourth trip, Yang Xiaohai's face was pale with exhaustion, but he still pushed through, entering the courtyard. Once inside, he put down the carrying pole, caught his breath, and waited quietly for something.

He waited until he heard footsteps from inside, then quickly picked up the carrying pole again and hurried inwards.

Not long after, Yang Xiaohai, carrying the pole, ran into his other senior brothers. "Good morning, Senior Brother Cao Cao."

"Hey, kid, drawing water again? You're so sensible. Leave this heavy work to the fool," Gouwa said, patting his head as he walked outside.

"Senior Brother Cao Cao, the porridge is already cooking in the pot. Breakfast will be ready soon!" he shouted after Gouwa.

"Mm-hmm, I'll go wake up the fool."

As the sun rose and shone into the courtyard, everyone gathered in the main hall.

Breakfast was simple: plain porridge, served with salted vegetables Gouwa had dug out of the village cellar, and their own dry provisions, *guokui* flatbreads. There was also a meat dish: a small bowl containing two eggs.

At that moment, none of them touched their chopsticks, all waiting quietly for something.

Just then, Xiaoman, who had been practicing swordplay by the door, also rushed in. Gouwa teased her, asking, "Junior Sister, how's your training coming along, practicing throughout the coldest and hottest days? Once you master it, teach your Senior Brother a thing or two."

"It's alright, at least better than just flailing around. The escort master's teacher said there's no other secret to this kind of thing; it's all about practice. I've carved two bamboo swords; after we eat, you can practice with me."

Gouwa's face instantly twisted into a bitter gourd expression.

Xiaoman turned, hung her sword on the wall, and then sat down at the table, waiting with the others.

Hearing footsteps and smelling the lingering scent of blood in the air, Yang Xiaohai instinctively tensed up, lowering his head, not daring to glance in that direction for even a moment.

It was Senior Brother Li Huowang.

He knew Senior Brother Li wouldn't harm him; he had even been picked up by him. But he was simply afraid, especially after witnessing all the events that had happened on their journey.

Li Huowang, supported by Bai Lingmiao, sat down in the honored seat at the Eight Immortals table and began to drink his porridge. Only after he began to eat did the others start as well.

Even Li Huowang himself hadn't realized when this custom had started.

As they ate, the sound of swallowed saliva could be heard from outside the courtyard, where several beggars stood, craning their necks, peering in with longing eyes.

"Why are there still beggars? Isn't Wujia Village supposed to be deserted?"

Hearing Li Huowang's question, Yang Xiaohai stood up and nervously recounted everything he knew.

"Heh, these people are really well-informed, knowing this place is empty. But to dare to occupy the chopping block of the eighteenth day of the twelfth lunar month... they really aren't afraid of bad luck, huh? I'm full. You all take your time."