The Unruly Immortals

The child Yang sleepily opened his eyes, and when he saw some light seeping through the paper window outside, he threw off his quilt and began to get dressed.

"Creak~" The door to the kitchen opened, and he went over to the water tank to check the water inside. Feeling it wasn't enough, he picked up the carrying pole and hoisted two empty wooden buckets to head out the door.

"The seniors will need to wash up after they get up, and I still need to cook porridge, this water isn't going to be enough."

As a Taoist Boy at Qingfeng Taoist Temple, although Yang was only ten years old, he was proficient in cooking, washing clothes, and mending garments, and he even had a smattering of knowledge about the medicinal properties of some alchemy ingredients.

These skills were all forced out of him, and those that weren't forced out had already died.

In that dark and dreary Taoist Temple, the only thing he learned was that people had to be useful; those who were useless were trash.

If the seniors ever decided they no longer wanted to carry a burden, they should kick out the one who was still snoring in bed first.

Yang actually had a secret that no one else knew, which was that the location of his family he reported was false; he had no home at all.

Now he just hoped that he could keep going on this path, so he could always have a meal to eat.

He was different from the others; when he first went to Qingfeng Taoist Temple, other children were either sold or stolen away, but Yang went willingly, simply because someone had told him that he could get enough to eat there.

Just out of the gate, Yang greeted the woman practicing swordsmanship in the distance with a bow, "Good morning, senior sister."

At this moment, Chun Xiaoman didn't have the spare time to pay attention to him, her whole focus was on the Sword Manual in front of her.

Yang had long been accustomed to this; recently, this senior sister, covered in black hair, had been practicing her swordsmanship all the time, except when eating and sleeping.

Accompanied by the damp morning mist, he walked alone on the deserted path.

"Could I ask senior sister to teach me swordsmanship? If I learned it, even if I went back to begging, others wouldn't dare bully me."

"But would senior sister be willing? Senior sister Xiaoman is usually very indifferent."

Lost in thought, Yang arrived at the village pond and began to draw water.

Suddenly, a large mass of dark shadows emerged from the morning mist in the distance, giving him a scare.

But soon he was no longer afraid, as those shadows were people, a group of ragged beggars with black faces, among whom he had once been a part.

Seeing them sniffling and trembling, it was clear that they hadn't managed to light a fire the previous night to keep warm.

Compared to Yang's reaction, the beggars were also startled.

Once they confirmed it was indeed a living person, the group of beggars pushed a small one out to the front.

This small beggar, with only one ear, was very dull and hesitantly shuffled on the spot.

Just as Yang was about to leave with his water, an old beggar came over and shoved the young one onto the ground, and then, crouching down as much as he could, asked Yang with a hope-filled smile, "Little kid, can I ask you something, is this Wu Family Village?"

"The person you're looking for isn't here, everything here is empty, nothing is left."

Yang's words, instead of reassuring, seemed to excite the other man, whose ruddy, rosacea-nose became even redder.

A trembling finger circled around everything in sight. "So, these houses and all the land around here, they have no owner now?!"

Yang didn't wish to converse with this beggar picker, so he turned around and left.

Upon returning to the kitchen, he poured the water from the buckets into the tank, wiped the sweat from his forehead, picked up the carrying pole, and continued heading towards the door.

Such a large vat, one trip won't be enough; it will take several trips.

By the time he came out again, one could see the beggars breaking into the vacant houses around, searching for something.

They definitely wouldn't find anything valuable; anything of value had long been taken by those who had left, and what wasn't taken was collected by himself and his fellow disciple Dogwa.

But these beggars didn't care about that, even if they found a torn piece of clothing, they would jump for joy.

When Little Yang came out for the third time, he saw some beggars fighting, though it was unclear what they were fighting over.

"Don't stay here, this place is cursed, it's easy to run into trouble!" Little Yang warned the passersby, but no one listened to him.

By the fourth trip, Little Yang was so exhausted his face turned pale, but he still persevered to the courtyard. Once inside, he put down his shoulder pole, caught his breath, and quietly waited for something.

He waited until the sound of footsteps came from inside; then Little Yang quickly picked up the shoulder pole and hurried in.

It wasn't long before the little boy carrying the shoulder pole ran into his fellow disciples. "Good morning, Brother Cao Cao."

"Hey, hey, kid, fetching water again? You sure are sensible, let the fool do this kind of heavy work," Dogwa patted his head and headed outside.

"Brother Cao Cao, the pot is already boiling porridge, breakfast will be ready soon," he shouted after Dogwa's retreating figure.

"Mmm, I'll go wake up the fool."

When the sun rose and shined into the courtyard, everyone gathered in the great hall.

The breakfast was simple, just white porridge, served with pickles Dogwa dug up from a village cellar, along with their own dry rations, and unleavened bread. There was even a bit of meat—a small bowl with two eggs in it.

At this moment, no one moved their chopsticks, all waiting quietly for something.

Just then, Chun Xiaoman, who had been practicing swordsmanship at the doorway, also hurried in. Dogwa teased, "Sister, how's your training paying off with your 'winter practice three-nine, summer practice three-fu'? Teach your brother when you master it, huh?"

"Not bad, at least it's better than flailing around blindly. The bodyguard's master said there's no special trick to this, just have to practice. I've whittled down two bamboo swords, eat your meal then you can practice with me," she replied.

Dogwa's face instantly turned into a grimace.

After Chun Xiaoman hung her sword on the wall, she too sat down by the table, waiting with the others.

Hearing footsteps and smelling the stench of blood in the air, Little Yang tensed instinctively, hanging his head low, not daring to glance in that direction.

It was Brother Li Huowang.

He knew Brother Li wouldn't harm him, he was even picked up by him, but he was still afraid, especially after seeing what had happened along the way.

Li Huowang, supported by Bai Lingmiao, took the seat of honor at the Eight Immortals table and began drinking porridge. Only after he started eating did the others begin.

Even Li Huowang himself hadn't noticed when this rule had come into being.

As they ate, the sound of salivating and the sight of several beggars gazing longingly and craning their necks came from outside the courtyard.

"Why are there still beggars? I thought there was no one left in the Wu family village?"

Hearing Li Huowang's query, Little Yang stood up nervously and recounted everything he knew.

"Haha, these people are really well-informed, knowing that this place became vacant. But daring to stay on the chopping block day of the twelfth lunar month, they aren't afraid of bad luck, are they? I'm full, you all eat at your own pace."