12: Chapter 12 The Assassin's Side Job

Aunt Mei hunched over, busy in front of a dimly lit stove. She was pouring something into a pitch-black cauldron, which was bubbling and emitting an indescribable, strange odor.

"Almost there, almost there…" she muttered to herself. "Tonight, I'll send you two little bastards to the afterlife. Hehe, that'll be enough to keep me going for a while."

Just then, there was a knock at the courtyard gate.

Aunt Mei turned to open the door, the hinges letting out a harsh, creaking sound.

Standing outside was a scholar holding a portrait, with three people behind him, all wearing matching blue short-sleeved jackets with swords tucked into their waistbands.

"Ma'am, have you seen these two?" The scholar held the portrait forward.

Aunt Mei squinted. The portrait depicted Wu Xi, Niu Fei, and Yuwen Shou; it was quite a good likeness. She shook her head. "Never seen them."

The scholar didn't move, saying slowly, "You'd better think carefully, old woman. Don't refuse a toast only to be forced to drink a forfeit."

Aunt Mei immediately widened the crack in the door, plopped down onto the threshold, and slapped her thighs, wailing, "I told you I don't know! And you're still giving me a hard time! Have you no shame? It's all because my husband died early that you all take turns bullying an old woman like me!"

She cried, snot and tears streaming down her face, her hands flailing in the air.

The scholar took a half-step back, frowning. The young men standing behind him all turned their heads away.

The scholar glanced inside and saw only her. He waved his hand, his voice filled with impatience. "Let's go, let's go. Let's check the next location."

The footsteps faded away, but Aunt Mei remained sitting on the threshold. Only when the sounds had completely vanished did she wipe her face with the back of her hand, which was covered in snot and tears. She casually wiped it on her pant leg, stood up, and bolted the door.

The scholar stood at the edge of the Dead Bones Marsh, his brows tightly furrowed as he pondered the whereabouts of Wu Xi, Niu Fei, and Yuwen Shou—they had managed to escape together, leaving no trace behind.

His subordinates had searched every location associated with the three, yet they found not even a single clue.

"If there is no news within three days, I will have no choice but to stake out this place for a long time," he muttered to himself.

Just then, the jade tablet at his waist suddenly grew hot, and a low voice rang out: "This Cave Master has activated the Cultivation Technique marks on those three. They are currently in Luoquan City."

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"Just in time," a guard shouted, his tone filled with the arrogance of those who rely on power. "It's you two brats. Don't just stand there, come over and help serve the porridge."

Another guard joined in, tapping his whip lightly but firmly against Niu Fei's shoulder. Niu Fei's brow furrowed, but Wu Xi reached out to press his arm, shaking his head slightly.

Just then, a middle-aged man walked over from the porridge stall.

He was wearing a gray cloth gown; the material was very ordinary, but it was washed clean, and there were patches at the cuffs.

As soon as the two guards saw him, their expressions changed immediately. They bent their waists, and the arrogance on their faces vanished.

"Mr. Xiangli," the two guards called out in unison, their voices filled with respect.

Mr. Xiangli waved his hand, signaling them to leave. He walked up to Wu Xi and Niu Fei and cupped his hands in a salute, a gentle smile on his face. "My two young friends, please don't take offense. We are indeed short-handed at the porridge stall. Could you come and help out? I will provide your meals."

He spoke at a measured pace, his voice not loud, yet it made one feel his sincerity. Wu Xi noticed that although this man was dressed simply, there was a natural air of dignity in his every move.

Wu Xi and Niu Fei exchanged a look. Niu Fei shrugged, implying he would follow Wu Xi's lead. "In that case," Wu Xi nodded, "alright."

Mr. Xiangli smiled and turned to lead the way. The porridge stall was not far away. Hanging from the roof of the stall was a flag with the character 'Mo' written in white on a black background.

Under the stall, several large cauldrons were set up, steaming hot. The fragrance of the porridge mixed with the scent of firewood drifted over, tickling their noses.

A dozen or so people were already busy in the stall; some were stirring the porridge, some were handing out bowls, and others were maintaining order among the starving people queuing up.

Mr. Xiangli brought Wu Xi and Niu Fei to a cauldron and handed them two long-handled wooden ladles.

"You are responsible for this pot," he said. "One ladle per person, don't give too much. There are still many people behind."

Wu Xi took the wooden ladle; it felt heavy in his hand, and the handle was worn smooth. He glanced into the pot. The porridge was very thin, with few rice grains, but at least it was hot.

The heat hit his face, carrying a faint scent of rice. The work of serving porridge was monotonous and repetitive. Wu Xi stood before the cauldron, ladling porridge one scoop at a time into the broken bowls offered by the starving people.

Those starving people were all sallow and emaciated, with deep-set eye sockets. Some couldn't even stand steadily and had to rely on those beside them for support. When they received the porridge, their eyes were fixed intently on the bowl, fearing that even a single drop would spill. The Old Woman's hand shook violently, and some porridge spilled onto her hand; she quickly licked it off with her tongue.

Niu Fei, at the next cauldron, muttered while serving, "This porridge is too thin. It's like drinking water."

"It's good enough that there's anything to eat," an old man stirring the porridge nearby heard him and sighed. "There isn't much grain left in the city. To be able to boil up this much porridge is already the result of Mr. Xiangli scraping together resources from everywhere."

Wu Xi kept an eye on his surroundings while serving the porridge. Mr. Xiangli walked back and forth between the several porridge stalls, stopping from time to time to speak to people or stepping in to help personally.

By the afternoon, the porridge serving was finished. Mr. Xiangli walked over to Wu Xi and pulled a piece of dry rations from his bosom, handing it to him. "Tired? Eat something to fill your stomach."

Wu Xi took the dry ration, broke off half for Niu Fei, and took a bite himself. The ration was very hard and difficult to chew, but it at least filled his stomach.

"Where are you from, young friend?" Mr. Xiangli asked casually. "From the south," Wu Xi answered vaguely. "Just passing through."

Mr. Xiangli nodded, his gaze turning toward the crowd in the queue, and he suddenly sighed. "I don't know how many more people will die this year."

Wu Xi asked in a low voice, "I heard that not long ago, outside the city, there were cases of cannibalism?" Mr. Xiangli, who was bending over to add firewood, paused at these words.

"Have you heard of the Xu family in the city?" His voice was very low. "Ten years ago, they were a medical family. A family of four, all eaten by others."

"During that plague, none of the four members of the Xu family fell ill." Mr. Xiangli looked at the figures in the distance queuing for porridge, his gaze vacant. "Rumors spread outside that the Xu family possessed a Spiritual Root and were immune to all poisons, and that eating their flesh could cure all diseases."

"And then?" "And then?" Mr. Xiangli gave a bitter smile. "A group of starving people stormed in and… they…" He didn't finish, only shaking his head.

"The authorities are now investigating such incidents strictly. The incident of 'swapping children to eat' a few days ago was stopped in time." Mr. Xiangli turned his head.

"It is said that the group of starving people back then was incited by someone. Someone was spreading rumors in the shadows, saying that the Xu family's flesh could cure the plague. When people are driven mad by hunger, they believe anything and will do anything."

"Who was it?" "It's still unclear." Mr. Xiangli patted Wu Xi's shoulder and stood up, walking toward another porridge stall. "But as far as I know… this matter has an inseparable connection to an evil cult."

Wu Xi held his empty bowl, his gaze landing on a wooden sign next to the porridge stall. The sign was swollen from being soaked by rain, and the handwriting on it was crooked, but it was still legible—the character 'Mo' was carved especially deep.

"'Mo'?" Wu Xi put down his bowl and pointed at the sign, asking Mr. Xiangli, "What is it?"

Mr. Xiangli was tidying up the spatulas and didn't look up at the question. "'Mo' is the Mohist school, an assassin organization."

"Huh?" Wu Xi froze in place. The people queuing outside the porridge stall gradually dispersed, and several men in coarse cloth clothes began to dismantle the stall.

Mr. Xiangli scraped the last bit from the bottom of the pot and poured it into a broken earthenware jar.

Wu Xi followed him. "Aren't assassin organizations supposed to hide in dark corners? You know, the kind of… pitch-black rooms, lit by candles, where a few people talk in hushed voices."

Mr. Xiangli tucked the earthenware jar into his arms and turned to look at him.

"Haha, our Mohist school has always been one of the Ten Great Schools recognized by the imperial court," Mr. Xiangli laughed heartily, his tone open and firm.

"Mohists never perform assassinations as a devious act—we must first clarify the guilt and proclaim the evil. Everything we do is for the benefit of the world and to eliminate the evils of the world."

He raised the spatula. "Besides, my branch is quite pragmatic. In addition to entering government to rule the world and punishing the violent to eliminate harm, we also do what we can, such as serving porridge to provide relief."

Wu Xi stared at him for a long time, unable to see any sign of joking on his face.

"Then…" Wu Xi put down the wooden ladle and wiped his fingers on his coarse cloth clothes. "Can I join the Mohist school?"

"Sure." Mr. Xiangli was bending over to bundle firewood and didn't look up, answering crisply.

Wu Xi froze in place, his Adam's apple bobbing. "…It's that simple?"

"What else?" Mr. Xiangli straightened up, the bundle of firewood hitting the ground and splashing a few specks of mud. "Having a heart of Universal Love and Non-Aggression is enough."

"Universal Love and Non-Aggression?" Mr. Xiangli didn't stop walking, his boot soles crushing the withered grass in the cracks of the stones. "To love everyone in the world as one loves oneself, to stop war and cease violence, and not to start disputes for private gain—this is the root of the Mohist school."

Beside him, Niu Fei scratched the back of his head and interjected in a muffled voice, "Then… don't you need to check our cultivation?"

"I've already checked." He reached out and casually pressed Wu Xi's shoulder, then flicked his finger against Niu Fei's arm. "One is at the Open Underworld Realm, a bit weak. One is at the Entangled Silk Realm, barely qualified."

Wu Xi gave a bitter smile. "As expected… nothing can be hidden from you." Niu Fei, however, turned his head abruptly, eyes wide. "Wait, who is at the Entangled Silk Realm?!" Wu Xi closed his eyes, the veins on his forehead throbbing.

"However," Mr. Xiangli suddenly stopped and turned around, his gaze sweeping over their faces. "You must undergo some trials. To see which path you two are suited for."

The three turned the corner of the alley, and ahead were the blue-tiled eaves of the Mohist workshop. Suddenly, a figure blocked the center of the road.

"Stop!" Robes billowing with the wind, the person cut off their path.

The person wore wide robes and large sleeves, with a jade belt pulled extremely tight around his waist. His face was flushed red, and he pointed a finger at the tip of Mr. Xiangli's nose. "Mr. Xiangli! Your porridge serving outside the city violates the Rites! As the saying goes, the Son of Heaven loves the feudal lords, the feudal lords love the grandmasters, and the grandmasters love the common people—love distributed layer by layer, that is the Rites! You are overstepping your rank layer by layer and buying the hearts of the people. Do you know your crime?!"

Mr. Xiangli stopped walking, and he slowly raised his head.

"Duanmu Gong, do you know that three more people starved to death east of the porridge stall this morning?"

"Is the Rites a rule that lets those in power enjoy wealth and luxury while watching the common people dig ditches, starve, and freeze to death, without allowing anyone else to lift a finger?"

"Universal Love is the universal truth." Mr. Xiangli said, every word distinct. His fingers were clenched into a fist, his knuckles white. "The hungry should get food, the cold should get clothing, and the weary should get rest. If we do not care for the people, are they just supposed to wait for death? What is the crime in saving the people before my eyes?"

Duanmu Gong's Adam's apple bobbed, and he flicked his wide sleeves violently. "You are distributing favors in private, which is disrupting the social order and usurping the sovereign's power! If this continues, the people will only know you and not their superiors, and the laws of the state will inevitably fall into chaos!"

"The laws of the state?" Mr. Xiangli suddenly laughed, his laughter filled with anger. "Do you mean to say that we should just watch people starve to death and not allow anyone to offer a bowl of porridge?!"

"If the Rites cannot benefit the people, they are harsh rites! If benevolence cannot save lives, it is false benevolence!"

Duanmu Gong's face was gloomy, his finger pointing at Mr. Xiangli.

"Mr. Xiangli, this is demagoguery! I will certainly report you to the Prefect!" He flicked his sleeves violently and turned to leave.

"This person is the Prefectural Assistant, Duanmu Gong." Mr. Xiangli patted Wu Xi's shoulder, his voice returning to its normal tone, carrying a hint of weariness.

"A blockhead raised by Neo-Confucianism, no need to pay him any mind. Let's go, we're almost there."