97: Chapter 97 Offering Incense to Duke Ling of Qin

The man's brain exploded with a loud *buzz*.

He let out an "ao" howl and jumped up, dropping the willow twig in his mouth.

The hemp rope around his waist snapped, and his pants slid down with a *swish*.

Fumbling flustered, he bent over to catch his pants, but tripped over the trouser legs, stumbled a couple of steps, and almost fell headfirst to the ground.

He managed to pull his pants up, clutched the waistband, glared at the uninvited guests, and his voice altered completely in pitch.

"Who are you people?! What are you doing?!"

The man howled like a butchered pig, startling the sparrows in the Old Locust Tree at the entrance of the village into flight.

Soon, the people of Qin Family Village trickled out in twos and threes from the alleys, courtyards, and the temple entrance.

Village Chief Qin Zongliang walked at the very front leaning on a cane, followed closely by Qin Yin and Qin Mo.

Qin Yin's hand had already rested on the long saber at her waist, and only after her eyes swept over the dust-covered commoners did she let go.

"What's going on? What's going on?"

Village Chief Qin Zongliang pushed aside the crowd, walked up to the man, and looked him up and down.

He then looked at the group of tattered, tear-stained refugees.

His cane tapped twice rhythmically on the ground.

"Who are you people?"

Village Chief Wang Deshun walked out from the crowd and bowed to Village Chief Qin Zongliang.

Behind him, Village Chief Sun Mancang also bowed.

Village Chief Wang Deshun raised his head, his eye sockets red.

"Old man, we are from Wangjia Village. Last night, our village was struck by those filthy things."

"Roots crawled out from under the ground, entangling people and eating people. These are the only ones of us who managed to escape."

He pointed at the dirt-stained commoners behind him, his voice choking.

"About fifty people left, that's all that remains of Wangjia Village."

Village Chief Sun Mancang continued.

"Sun Family Village is gone too. Just us people, having fled all night, walked here."

He raised his head, looking at Village Chief Qin Zongliang and the surrounding villagers of Qin Family Village. In the end, he couldn't hold back his tears, which streamed down his cheeks.

The villagers of Qin Family Village fell silent.

They could all empathize with this; before Lord Qinling manifested his divine presence, they had encountered far too many such incidents.

Some villagers lowered their heads, some turned their faces away, and some let out soft sighs.

Looking at these completely unscathed villagers of Qin Family Village, Village Chief Wang Deshun suddenly remembered something and asked.

"Nothing happened in your Qin Family Village last night?"

The people of Qin Family Village looked at each other and shook their heads.

The man from earlier had already tied his pants and was squatting under the Old Locust Tree.

With a new willow twig in his mouth again, he mumbled vaguely,

"Nope, slept very well. It's just that last night's porridge was a bit thick, and I had to make two trips to the outhouse."

Someone beside him kicked him, and he sheepishly shut his mouth.

Qin Mo on the side thought for a moment and said,

"I had a stiff neck yesterday, and my neck is still crooked now. I wonder if that counts."

He turned his crooked neck, baring his teeth in pain.

Some villagers of Qin Family Village couldn't help letting out a laugh, then quickly reined it in.

Morality and humor were fighting frantically.

Village Chief Qin Zongliang tapped his cane twice rhythmically on the ground and said to the refugee commoners before him,

"Everyone, do not worry too much. Since you have fled to our Qin Family Village, our Qin Family Village certainly will not stand by and watch you die."

"You all can stay in our Qin Family Village starting today. As for what to do next, we must discuss it thoroughly."

Hearing Village Chief Qin Zongliang's words, many refugee commoners breathed a sigh of relief, their legs turning so weak they almost collapsed.

The string that had sustained them all the way snapped suddenly.

These refugees cried, laughed, sat paralyzed on the ground, or hugged the people beside them.

The people of Qin Family Village began to get busy.

Village Chief Qin Zongliang leaned on his cane, directing the young people to clear out houses.

Qin Family Village was not very large, consisting of only a few dozen households. However, due to various hardships, there were quite a few vacant houses in the village.

Even so, cramming over a hundred people in all at once was not easy.

Some villagers of Qin Family Village cleared out their own rooms and then ran off to sleep on pallets at their relatives' homes.

Other villagers cleaned out small sheds used for stacking firewood and laid down hay. Although crude, it could suffice for a night.

Squeezing and moving things around, they finally settled everyone in.

Village Chief Wang Deshun handed the child over to her mother, sat on a stone stool in the courtyard, and let out a long breath.

Village Chief Sun Mancang sat beside him. The scab on the sole of his foot had split open, and blood was seeping from the wound.

He didn't feel any pain either; he just sat there, staring blankly at that slow-moving layer of black curtain at the edge of the sky.

Village Chief Wang Deshun suddenly stood up, patted the dirt off his trouser legs, and said,

"Let's go, offer some incense to Lord Qinling."

Village Chief Sun Mancang raised his head, glanced at him, and also stood up.

Stepping on the ground with the soles of his feet, he bared his teeth in pain, but he did not sit back down.

Village Chief Wang Deshun had already walked toward the direction of the temple, with Village Chief Sun Mancang following behind.

Further behind, some of the settled refugees also trickled along, walking step by step toward the temple in the center of the village.

However, quite a few refugees had no intention of going to the temple. They crossed their arms and whispered to one another.

A middle-aged refugee man sitting on the threshold said,

"Our village was struck by those things last night, but Qin Family Village is fine. Could it really be that they just had good luck?"

"Do you guys really believe in the so-called talk of deities?"

The person next to him nodded; it was a young man.

He wore a dusty short jacket, was barefoot on one foot, and that foot was caked with dry mud.

Leaning against a pillar with his hands tucked into his sleeves and his neck shrunken, he said,

"I can't say for sure either. You all saw what happened last night—who could possibly block such evil specters?"

"Can the deity of Qin Family Village do it?"

Many refugee commoners chimed in successively.

Clearly, quite a few commoners did not believe in the so-called talk of deities.

If deities truly existed, why hadn't the deities worshipped in their own village manifested their presence to protect them?

On the other side, the refugees going to offer incense had already arrived at the entrance of Lord Qinling's temple.

The temple gates were wide open, and the threshold had been polished smooth and bright by countless pairs of feet.

Incense smoke drifted out from the main hall, thin and straight, swirling in the dark red daylight.

Village Chief Sun Mancang stood at the temple entrance. His gaze pierced through the lavish offerings on the altar table and the joss sticks still burning in the incense burner, falling upon the statue with lowered brows and eyes.

His pupils suddenly constricted.

Because at this moment, the center of Lord Qinling's statue's brow was glowing with a golden light.

This was intentionally done by Lord Qinling to comfort the villagers under the curtain of evil qi, but right now, it shocked Village Chief Sun Mancang into thinking that he might have truly seen a deity.

Village Chief Sun Mancang's legs went weak, and he knelt down.

Village Chief Wang Deshun knelt beside him, and the refugees knelt behind them, stretching all the way from the main hall into the courtyard.

Meanwhile, Qin Ling inside the shrine overlooked this scene, slightly shifting the position of his hands tucked inside his sleeves like a cat.