Where Immortals Once Walked-Chapter 212: The Kind Regards of the People of Panlong

A big worm-eaten hole gaped in the roof beam. A string of a dozen white ants was crawling in and out as if up to something indecent. He Lingchuan stared at them for a long while before it clicked that he was dreaming again.

These days, if he was dreaming, that could only mean one thing:

He was back in Panlong City. 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

He tried to get up, but his arms and legs were stiff and uncooperative, like an old car that had been sitting out in the open for five or six years and was suddenly started.

He had only just pushed himself upright when he noticed a stool lying toppled at an odd angle.

A walk around his tiny house turned up more. The firewood pile had been stripped bare, and the two fat fish in the rainwater vat were gone. He hurried back to the bedroom, pried up two bricks in the corner, and took a quick look.

Thankfully, the medicine and silver hidden there were still in place.

In short, he had been burgled. The thief who had snuck in to “fish” might well have spat on the floor on the way out, disgusted by how dirt-poor the place was.

At least his saber was still propped blatantly against the bed; the thief had not dared touch it.

One glance could tell anyone that it was a military issue, complete with markings and a serial number. Under Panlong City law, anyone who stole materiel[1] lost a hand. Even if some small-time crook snatched this saber, there would be no way for them to fence it.

He Lingchuan was scratching his head when the courtyard gate creaked open, and Hu Min stepped in.

Seeing him standing in the doorway, Hu Min froze, then lit up. “You’re awake?!”

Judging by his expression, the question was not simple. He Lingchuan blinked. “Awake. What happened to me?”

“You’ve been out for three days! The medical officer treated you and said the spider venom in you was heavy and needs three to five days to clear. How many times did those burrowing spiders take a chunk out of you?”

I was poisoned, too?

When He Lingchuan just looked baffled, Hu Min rubbed his hands and asked, “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Falling into Zhu Erniang’s den,” He Lingchuan mumbled. “I thought I was dead for sure. How am I still breathing?”

“Everyone thought you’d gone out in a blaze of glory. The Office of Military Merit even issued the condolence payment, but couldn’t find any next of kin to claim it. Turns out you must’ve fallen into the underground river in the spider den and got swept all the way to Baiyang Outpost. A horse herder found you three days ago. He saw you wearing Gale Army gear and death-gripping a saber, so he came to report it. Boss Xiao guessed it was you and personally went to bring you back.”

“Guizhen Stone Forest is a good ten to fifteen kilometers from Baiyang Outpost. If you hadn’t washed up on a shallow bank, who would’ve guessed its underground river connects to the stone forest’s?” Hu Min clapped him on the shoulder. “You lucky brat, fortune’s guarding your head!”

What could He Lingchuan say? He could only tip his face to the rafters and sigh. “When fate won’t let you die, even Heaven lends a hand.”

In his heart, he knew it was just the Panlong Dreamscape pulling a smokescreen. When he previously died at the end of the gorge scene, the dream obligingly wrote in a “fell in the river” epilogue.

“Any chance of a fresh excuse next time?” Do I look like I’m short of water in my Five Elements or something?

Hu Min blinked. “What?”

“Nothing!” He Lingchuan laughed it off. “Right, how did that big battle end?”

“That was eight days ago now. You earned major merits, you know. I hear you burned out the burrowing spiders’ den. Zhu Erniang got so spooked she called off the fight and beat a hasty retreat. That let General Nanke’s army break out of the Guizhen Stone Forest and link up with the relief force from the city. Together they drove Hua Mucuo back.”

He Lingchuan knew the flower had two blooms. “And the other front?”

“While Wei City’s main force was being drawn off by General Nanke, the Red General led us to snatch Wei City. There were plenty of twists along the way, but in the end, we managed to take it.” Hu Min had fought in the battle for Wei City himself, and he poured out everything he had seen.

The Red General’s campaign had been no less torturous than the fight in the Guizhen Stone Forest. Listening, He Lingchuan was absorbed, and he asked without thinking, “Why did Baling suddenly send more troops into the Panlong Wasteland?”

For the last fifteen years, the states of Baling and Xianyou had been Panlong City’s foes. The war had ebbed and flowed—sometimes tight, sometimes slack—and the two sides would even sheath their banners, keep the peace, and trade from time to time.

Panlong City had been a thorn in both states’ sides for so long that they had grown used to it, yanking at it for over a decade without ever pulling it free. In the end, they simply left it alone, even giving the frequent border skirmishes the cold shoulder.

By now, He Lingchuan understood what that usually meant. Those moments only came to be due to either Baling or Xianyou having run into trouble at home and being unable to manage both inside and out, so they eased up on occupying the Panlong Wasteland.

So why had Baling suddenly roused itself and thrown forty thousand troops into the field all at once?

Hu Min shrugged. “No idea.” He was a soldier; he fought the battles. High-level news always took ages to trickle down.

“But after Hua Mucuo gathered up Shao Yingyang’s remnants, he wouldn’t let it go and turned to attack Wei City. The Red General had us hold fast and avoid giving chase. Hua Mucuo did not have any good options. After all, he had reinforced those walls with his own hands, and no one knew better than he did how hard that city is to crack.” Hu Min laughed loudly. “Then the wasteland got hammered by feather-snow for three whole days and nights, plus hail!”

“The Baling troops froze half to death. They had no food, no clothes, and nowhere nearby to hole up. They were pitiful as stray dogs on the steppe! Oh, and one Baling unit seems to have slipped away early, probably the result of high command infighting. That’s when the Red General sent men to strike their camp at night and won a tidy victory. Hua Mucuo dropped the act, dumped his armor, and skulked home.” Hu Min was grinning from ear to ear. “They still haven’t finished pulling out. You’ve never seen such a limp, sorry lot!”

He Lingchuan laughed as well.

With Wei City lost, Baling no longer had a foothold in the eastern region of the Panlong Wasteland. How were forty thousand men supposed to live off wind and dew? Retreat was a foregone conclusion.

For the past year and a half, both sides had been fighting guerrilla-style. The wasteland’s realities meant each engagement fielded anywhere from a few hundred to, at most, a thousand or two. Both armies had grown used to that rhythm. When Shao Yingyang arrived, he tried to catch Panlong City off guard: set the snare, move fast against fast, and crush Panlong City’s small detachments beneath a sudden, sky-fallen army.

The lynchpin was simple: win by exploiting an information gap.

By his plan, by the time Panlong City reacted, the Gale Army’s elite would already be wiped out, and perhaps the Red General would be captured as well, and that would shake Panlong City to its core.

But that kind of strategy was high-risk, high-reward. If one failed to swallow the fat morsel already in one’s mouth, one’s supply shortages show at once. Wei City could not even feed a force that size, so what happens when forty thousand men become a roving, homeless host?

After that, you lose heaven’s favor, earth’s advantage, and human harmony all at once, and the entire Panlong Wasteland turns against you.

“So we took back Wei City,” Hu Min said with feeling. “Your homeland is yours again.”

Homeland? The word did nothing for He Lingchuan. “What about that Shao fellow?”

“Dead. The Red General ended him personally.”

What stuck with He Lingchuan, though, were the hints tucked into Hu Min’s account.

Those things Shao Yingyang had said to the Red General... What did he mean by “once Lady Mitian,” and what exactly is a “divine envoy”?

Mitian was the goddess who protected Panlong City. What difference could there be between the past and the present?

When it came to gods, he knew far too little about them.

“Divine envoy,” at least, was easier to parse. Is it talking about a vessel that received a “descent of the god,” the body?

He could then not help but wonder. Is the invincible Red General wholly obedient to Mitian’s will, or does he still retain his own mind and will?

Is it Mitian fighting the war, or the Red General himself?

Just then, Hu Min pulled out a few silver ingots and handed them to He Lingchuan. “Your winnings.”

“My winnings?” He Lingchuan had no recollection at all.

“Didn’t you place a bet with the squad before the Guizhen Stone Forest battle?” Hu Min grinned. “Your squadmates came by twice, but you were still out cold. In the end, a skinny fellow dropped the money with me to pass on.”

He stepped out to ladle water for a rinse and glanced into the vat. Empty. “Huh? You ate the fish?”

He Lingchuan shook his head. “Looks like I was robbed while I was out. The fish and firewood are gone, but the saber’s still here.”

“Even the most clueless thief wouldn’t dare steal a military saber,” Hu Min laughed. “Want to report it?”

“Will I get anything back?”

“Honestly? I doubt it,” Hu Min said bluntly. “City statutes come down hard on thieves, but you were out for three days, so anyone could’ve wandered in. This thief won’t be easy to catch.”

And for a few sticks of firewood and two fish? The loss was so minor that the constables likely would not bother.

“I thought Panlong City was a little paradise outside the world,” He Lingchuan groused. “Turns out petty crooks and sneaks are everywhere.”

“People are people,” Hu Min soothed. “Besides, you earned great merits again. It’s about time you moved. Pick a better neighborhood, and thieves won’t come knocking.”

He Lingchuan looked around the tiny courtyard, which took three strides to cross from the gate to the bedroom. “You’re right. I should change houses.”

Training here was getting cramped; there was no room to stretch his limbs, much less practice his marksmanship.

He stepped out of the gate and stopped short.

The space outside was piled full of things: jars, bundles, and sacks, so many that he could barely find a place to set his foot.

“What’s all this?” He scooped up a clay jar, brushed the snow off the seal of packed yellow mud, and sniffed. “Smells great. Wine?”

The jar weighed at least fifteen kilograms, and the mud seal bore two words: “Spring Terrace.”

One look, and Hu Min smiled. “It’s Spring Terrace wine. It’s from the old shop in the south of the city. Goes down smooth, and it isn’t cheap.”

He helped check a few more jars. The moment he cracked one open, he clapped a hand over his nose. “Whoa, now that’s potent.”

They were packed with pickles of cucumber, cabbage, and turnips. Judging by the aroma alone, they had been pickling for months.

If the Spring Terrace wine had been bought as a gift, these jars of pickles were clearly homemade.

He Lingchuan lifted the cloth off another basket and found five big fish, frozen rock-hard, their eyes bright as beads. A strip of paper lay on top, reeking of fish, with a crooked scrawl: “My son came home alive. Thank you.”

It was signed: Fatty Zhu’s household, Five-Finger Alley.

Another large bundle turned out to be smoked pork, yellow-gold and fragrant, wrapped in oiled paper layer upon layer, bound tight with a straw cord. On the outermost sheet, someone had written directly: “Good deeds bring good returns. Eat up, there’s more where that came from.”

Those two notes were written in charcoal, but at least they had left a message. Most of the other items carried no slip or signature, so there was no way to know who had sent them. Even so, the sincerity behind each gift was plain to see.

1. This is not a misspelling. This is a word that refers to military equipment and supplies. ☜