46: blood oath

The night was as dark as ink, and the village lights had long been extinguished, leaving only a few scattered barks that sounded particularly clear in the silence.

However, the main hall of Village Head's house was unusually lit by an oil lamp, its dim yellow light filtering through the window paper.

Shadows flickered in the room. Besides Su Shan and Su Ming, father and son, there were five other people. Three were the clan elders of the Su, Zhao, and Wang families in the village, all with white hair and solemn faces. The other two were Village Head's nephews from the same clan, Zhao Dazhuang and Zhao Eryong, both in their thirties, sturdily built, standing on either side behind Village Head like door gods.

The air was so thick it was suffocating.

Village Head did not sit. He clutched the piece of rough paper Su Ming had made and paced back and forth in the not-so-spacious main hall. His footsteps were heavy, each step seemingly treading on everyone's heart. Su Shan hung his head, staring at his old cloth shoes with exposed toes. With each step Village Head took closer, his gaunt shoulders unconsciously tensed up a little more.

"See that? That's a wily old fox," Lin Yu's voice echoed in his mind, with its usual lazy mockery. "Knowing he couldn't stand alone, he quickly tied the most influential old men in the village to his ship. Once on board, they can't get off. Interests are bound, risks are shared. If things come to light later, it will be a disaster for the entire core of Su Family Village, not just Village Head's fault alone. Your father's little schemes are as transparent as white paper in front of him."

Village Head finally stopped pacing.

He slapped the piece of rough yellow paper onto the Eight Immortals Table with a 'pah' sound. The noise wasn't loud, but it made everyone's hearts jump. His gaze, like an ice-tempered knife, slowly swept over every face present.

"Three Uncles, two virtuous nephews, Shanzi."

His voice was low, yet every word was clear, striking the silent air.

"The reason I bothered you all to come so late at night is for this item on the table."

The three clan elders' cloudy eyes collectively focused on the unremarkable yellow paper, filled with doubt and scrutiny.

"Third Son of the Shanzi family, Su Ming, by a stroke of Opportunity, obtained a partial recipe from a tattered ancient book. Using the unwanted young bamboo from the back mountain, he actually managed to concoct this thing."

Village Head's words were concise and unembellished.

"Paper! Paper that can be written on and used to record things!"

"Buzz—"

It was as if a thunderclap had exploded in the ears of the elders. Their withered hands trembled violently, and their eyes suddenly widened, staring intently at the paper as if to see through it. Deep wrinkles were etched with disbelief.

"De... Dequan, is this... is this true?" The Su clan elder's voice trembled, his withered finger pointing at the paper, almost touching it, then suddenly retracting as if it were a hot potato.

"This... this really turned from bamboo? I've lived for over sixty years, and I've never heard of such a strange thing!" The Wang clan elder leaned forward, a terrifying gleam erupting from his cloudy eyes.

Village Head didn't answer, only turned his gaze to Su Ming: "Xiao Ming, tell the grandpas again what you told me earlier today, more clearly."

Su Ming stepped forward, bowing deeply to the three clan elders, his etiquette impeccable.

Then, he calmly and clearly recounted the narrative he had long since memorized. From how he accidentally obtained the partial recipe, to several failed attempts, until the final success, and then to the immense wealth and potential disaster hidden within it.

Finally, his voice, though not loud, was exceptionally firm as he stated the distribution plan for the "Su Family Village business."

"...My Su Family provides the recipe and the technique, taking three tenths of the profit. Uncle Dequan and the three clan elders will preside over the central operations, steer and set the rules, and quell any troubles, taking two tenths of the dry shares. The remaining five tenths will be distributed according to the labor contributed by the villagers who put in the effort."

When his voice fell, the main hall was so quiet that a pin drop could be heard.

Only the occasional faint 'crackling' sound of the oil lamp wick could be heard.

The shock on the faces of the three clan elders had turned into complete horror. They exchanged glances, seeing turbulent waves in each other's eyes. To pull the entire village into a business? And to reward based on merit? This child's thinking was simply... unheard of!

Village Head watched their reactions with cold eyes, a nearly imperceptible smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

He coughed heavily, breaking the deadly silence, and his voice was solemn, sealing this astonishing plan.

"Three Uncles, Xiao Ming's words are also my, Village Head's, intentions."

"This item is a treasure trove bestowed by heaven upon our Su Family Village descendants to rise and establish themselves! However, it can also attract a bloody disaster!"

His tone suddenly rose, his gaze sharp as an eagle, sweeping over everyone's uncertain faces.

"If even a hint of this news leaks out, let alone getting rich, I fear our Su Family Village will face the danger of total annihilation in an instant! At that time, all of you present will be the eternal sinners of the entire village!"

The words, filled with Killing Intent, made the clan elders shiver, and the last bit of color drained from their faces. With one foot in the grave, they deeply understood the bloody meaning of the eight characters: "An innocent man is guilty only for possessing a treasure."

"Therefore, if this matter proceeds, your mouths must be welded shut with molten iron! Your hearts must be pressed down with giant stones!"

Village Head suddenly drew a gleaming dagger from his lower back and, with a 'clang,' fiercely plunged it into the tabletop. The blade vibrated, emitting a low hum, reflecting his stern face.

"Today, right here, right now! We shall make a Blood Oath!"

He grabbed a rough ceramic bowl for wine from the table, broke the mud seal of a jar of strong liquor, and poured it until full.

Then, he pulled out the dagger and, without hesitation, slashed his left thumb.

Crimson beads of blood immediately welled up, dripping down and rapidly spreading in the clear liquor, like bizarre flowers blooming.

"I, Village Head, swear to heaven today!"

He held up the wine bowl with both hands, his voice like muffled thunder, reverberating in the small space.

"If even a single word of the papermaking secret technique leaks from my mouth, may I be struck by heavenly thunder, torn apart by five horses! May I not enter my ancestral grave after death, my Soul Flying Away and Spirit Scattering, never to be reborn! May my descendants, sons be thieves, daughters be prostitutes, and be lowly for generations!"

The vicious oath was utterly ruthless, every word piercing the heart, sending shivers down everyone's spines and making them break out in cold sweat.

"It's your turn!" Village Head's gaze was like a torch, pressing down on the three clan elders.

The three old men's faces were pale, their breathing rapid. As their eyes met, they already saw determination. From the moment they stepped into this room and heard Village Head's plan, they had no retreat.

"This old man... will follow!" The Su clan elder gritted his teeth, tremblingly extended his hand, took the dagger, and fiercely cut his withered, age-spotted finger.

"Count me in!"

"Me too!"

The Wang and Zhao clan elders also gritted their teeth and followed suit.

Blood, drop by drop, merged into the wine, staining the bowl of strong liquor a chilling pale red.

It was Su Shan's turn. He looked at the bowl of blood wine, his hands trembling violently. Having been honest and simple his whole life, he had never witnessed such a spectacle.

Su Ming quietly reached out and supported his father's arm, feeling the stiffness and slight tremor beneath the thin limb.

Su Shan looked up, glanced at his son, then met Village Head's undeniable, icy gaze. He took the dagger, closed his eyes, and forcefully cut his calloused fingertip.

Blood dripped into the bowl.

Zhao Dazhuang and Zhao Eryong didn't even blink, swiftly cutting their fingers and squeezing out blood.

One bowl of wine, infused with the blood of seven people.

"Drink!"

Village Head let out a low roar, being the first to raise the large bowl and drink it down.

The others also picked up the wine bowls distributed to them, pouring the pungent liquid, mixed with blood and vows, down their throats.

The burning sensation intertwined with a faint metallic taste, scorching its way down, as if a heavy brand was directly hammered into their internal organs.

After drinking the blood wine, everyone looked up, their eyes now holding a hint of ruthlessness and a conspiratorial bond.

From then on, the seven of them truly became ants on the same rope, sharing prosperity and suffering together.