Chapter 293 The Mortal World of the Xuanying Continent
After leaving the Immortal Spirit Holy Land, Ye Fan piloted his flying sword, speeding straight toward the border of Qing Prefecture.
The mountain wind whistled, blowing his robes to flap loudly.
Gazing down, villages were scattered like stars around Immortal Spirit City; smoke rose from chimneys, farmers tilled the fields, and children played, presenting a scene of peace and harmony.
"These towns are too close to Immortal Spirit City; relying on the city, they live very affluent lives."
"Getting these people, who live and work in peace and contentment, to migrate is simply wishful thinking..."
Ye Fan shook his head secretly.
Yesterday when leaving the main hall, he had deliberately slowed his pace and heard the plans of many fellow disciples.
"I plan to practice medicine and save the world, first mixing up a reputation as a divine doctor."
"I intend to go to a mortal nation to take the imperial examinations; once I become the National Preceptor, won't it be a matter of a single sentence?"
"Doing business is the most practical! Money can make the ghost turn the mill..."
Ye Fan made no comment on these methods.
Although he had a rough childhood, he still grew up in a cultivation family, and later entered the Immortal Spirit Holy Land directly, knowing almost nothing about the lives of mortals.
After flying over three cities, the scenery gradually became desolate.
Following the collapse of the Great Zhou, the boundaries between mortals and cultivators became distinct once more.
In some remote mountain villages, the common people did not even know that cultivators truly existed, regarding them merely as legends from storybooks.
...
And at this moment, on a vast plain at the junction of Qing Prefecture and Ling Prefecture.
The scorching sun baked the cracked earth.
It had been eight full months since a single drop of rain had fallen here.
In the cracked fields, the withered seedlings were like iron needles stuck in the ground, crumbling into powder at the slightest touch.
The Spirit Stream River, which once surged, now had only a few puddles of murky dead water remaining; dead fish with white bellies floated on the surface, emitting a stench of rot.
Heat waves distorted the distant scenery, as if even the air were burning.
On the official road, the stream of fleeing refugees stretched for tens of miles.
Ragged disaster victims moved like a group of walking corpses, dragging heavy steps.
Elderly men leaned on branches, women carried dying children on their backs, and strong men pushed squeaking wheelbarrows piled with tattered bedding and pots and bowls—this was all their possessions.
"Mother... I'm hungry..."
A girl of about five or six tugged at the corner of her mother's clothes, her voice as thin as a mosquito.
The woman's lips were dry and cracked with blood, but she still took out half a piece of moldy cake from her bosom.
"Be good, endure it a little longer... It will be better when we reach Li City; I heard His Majesty has already sent officials to provide disaster relief, and much grain has been stockpiled there to give porridge to the people..."
Suddenly, a commotion came from ahead.
"Water! There is water!"
The crowd surged forward like madmen. But when they ran near, they discovered it was merely the bottom of a long-dried pond by the roadside, still retaining some mud.
People threw themselves down regardless, digging with their hands, scooping with bowls, or even lying directly on the ground to lick that bit of wet mud with a fishy smell.
Several strong men fought over a handful of mud; fresh blood mixed with the mud, quickly congealing into purple-black scabs under the scorching sun.
Vultures circled in the sky, waiting at any moment for their prey to fall.
...
In the evening, the fleeing refugees rested temporarily in an abandoned village.
Under the dilapidated earthen walls, several emaciated men were discussing in low voices. They would occasionally glance at a group of women and children huddled together for warmth not far away, their eyes gleaming with a beastly light.
"That little one from the Old Liu family... looks quite fair and clean..."
"My wife yesterday already..."
In the darkness came suppressed whimpering, soon scattered again by the night wind.
In a ruined room at the east end of the village, a husband and wife were weeping softly over a comatose child. The child was about seven or eight years old, his cheeks sunken terrifyingly, and his breathing so faint it was almost undetectable.
"Husband... if this continues, Xiao Bao he..."
The woman's voice trembled.
The man gripped a rusty machete tightly, his knuckles turning white.
"I'll go to the village entrance to have a look... I heard Blacksmith Zhang's family is willing to trade for half a bag of millet..."
Before he could finish, both closed their eyes in pain.
The moonlight was pale, shining on a few small bones in the corner of the wall; it was unclear whether they were animal bones or…
The next day, the team of refugees continued to move forward.
Suddenly, the sound of hoofbeats came from the distance.
"Look quick! Someone has come to give porridge!"
Hope ignited in the turbid eyes of the disaster victims, and they dragged their exhausted bodies one by one toward the source of the sound.
More than a dozen ornately decorated carriages slowly drove up; on the carriage bodies hung signs reading "Zhou Merchant Firm" flags.
flags."
At the head, the fat merchant Zhou Deshun sat on a tall horse; his brocade clothes shone brightly under the sunlight, forming a stark contrast with the ash-covered refugees around him.
"Folks!"
The merchant shouted at the top of his lungs.
"I, Zhou, have the kindest heart and cannot bear to see the people suffering! Today I have come specifically to give porridge!"
The refugees knelt down in droves, kowtowing incessantly.
"Great Benefactor Zhou! A Living Bodhisattva!"
Several guards carried down a few large pots, containing rice soup so thin it could reflect a person's shadow.
The starving refugees surged forward like madmen but were whipped back fiercely by the guards.
"Line up! All of you, get in line!"
The guard leader grinned savagely and waved a leather whip, whipping bloody welts on an old man's back.
"Whoever pushes again won't get to drink!"
A child, skinny as a skeleton, lay on the ground, licking up the spilled rice soup.
After the refugees finished drinking the porridge, Zhou Deshun narrowed his small eyes and spoke.
"I, Zhou, do not seek repayment; it is just that the firm is short of some helpers... anyone willing to follow us will get two full meals a day!"
The refugees looked at each other in dismay.
"Of course..."
Zhou Deshun changed his tone.
"If you really are unwilling, I, Zhou, will absolutely not force you."
As soon as his voice fell, the guards began to "maintain order".
They specifically picked out those young, strong men or women with good looks.
"You! Come with us!"
A guard yanked up a young girl of sixteen or seventeen.
"No! I want to wait for my dad and mom!"
The girl struggled in terror.
"Pa!"
A slap knocked her to the ground.
"You don't know what's good for you!"
The girl's parents knelt and begged.
"Master, please have mercy, this is our only daughter..."
Zhou Deshun sneered.
"What? I, Zhou, kindly gave porridge, and this is how you repay me?"
He gave a signal with his eyes.
"Take her away!"
Soon, the girl was forcibly dragged onto the carriage.
On the dry ground, only ten bloody scratches from her fingernails remained.
"Old thing, your son is sickly; he's worth half a bag of bran at most!"
"Master, please add a bit more... he is a scholar..."
"Scholar?"
The guard sneered.
"Nowadays one catty of rice can exchange for three scholars!"
A woman holding a baby cried and pleaded.
"My daughter is only fourteen; she can't go be a maid..."
"Not be a maid?"
The guard chuckled lewdly and pinched her chin.
"Then going to a brothel would be worth more money?"
The young, strong men were strung together by ropes like slaves, walking behind the carriages.
If they hesitated even slightly, the whip greeted them immediately.
And from the packed carriages, the suppressed sobbing of girls came incessantly.
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