Journey to the West: The Immortal Clan Begins by Feeding Monkeys at Five Elements Mountain

Chapter 193 Old but vigorous, the stone statue of the Dao Ancestor

As dawn broke, a sliver of pale light appeared in the east.

The morning mist lingered in the orchard behind the Jiang family's house, like a light veil covering the branches and leaves.

A few bird calls, as melodious as jade, swept across the treetops, waking the slumbering birds.

Several broods of spirit chickens, nourished by the spirit, flapped their wings and climbed onto branches early in the morning, stretching their necks and crowing loudly with clear and melodious voices, less vulgar than ordinary roosters.

Nestled deep within the foliage, the small treehouse and orchard seem to have grown naturally from the surrounding landscape.

With a creak, the wooden door was pushed open.

Jiang Yi, shirtless, stood on the wooden platform, stretching lazily in the morning breeze, his joints cracking softly, as if his old bones had gained a touch of youth.

He took a deep breath of the fresh air from the plants and trees, then slowly exhaled, his eyes clear and his expression relaxed.

Liu Xiulian followed and casually draped her husband's outer garment over her shoulders.

She raised her hand to tidy up the stray hairs at her temples, slowly and deliberately, exuding a languid air.

His gaze fell on the not-so-robust but well-proportioned and powerful back in front of him. His eyes were bright, and the corners of his mouth were slightly raised, a smile that was not quite a smile.

The look in her eyes didn't seem like she was looking at her own man; it was more like she was examining a new and interesting object.

My husband, though he's spent his life toiling in the fields, is still, at heart, an educated and respectful person.

They are usually very disciplined, with a touch of simplicity and refinement.

How could it be like last night?
For a time, he was like a fierce tiger in the mountains, wild and untamed;
For a time, he seemed like a ghost in a dark pool, employing one trick after another.

It was so torturous that even she, a person with accomplished cultivation, almost couldn't withstand it.

Jiang Yi was unaware of what his wife was thinking behind him.

He turned around and saw Liu Xiulian leaning against the door, so he smiled and said, "I'm going to take a walk around the village to check on the drought situation."

At this point, his gaze drifted slightly before he added another sentence:
"When Xi'er comes back later, you should teach her properly. Although this method has its benefits, it ultimately involves the privacy of the bedroom, and it's not appropriate for me, as her father, to get involved."

As soon as he finished speaking, he still carried a bit of the old-fashioned farmer's restraint.

Upon hearing this, Liu Xiulian chuckled and gave him a sidelong glance. That alluring look made his heart flutter again.

"I understand," she replied with a smile, ignoring the unease on his face.

With a gentle wave of her hand, a line of water, as clear as a snake, flew up from the spirit spring pool and meandered through the window.

In a short while, the room was tidied up and cleaned, with only the soft sound of water remaining, as if someone was whispering.

Jiang Yixin walked into the village.

The old locust tree at the village entrance, which used to be lush and shady, now has curled leaves and droops listlessly, like an old man who has been frosted.

It was deserted under the tree.

The old and young who usually gather to chat idly are now scattered along the wall, their eyelids drooping, even speaking seems like a chore.

The scorching sun hung high in the sky, making people feel dizzy. Fine dust floated in the air, and breathing in the lungs filled one with the scorching, earthy smell.

The entire village seemed to have lost all its vitality and spirit.

As we were walking, we heard several muffled thuds ahead, accompanied by low curses.

Several villagers stood at a distance, their expressions numb.

Jiang Yi walked over slowly and saw a shirtless man swinging a piece of dismantled fence wood, smashing it against the newly built rain-praying altar.

His face showed no anger, but there was a restlessness that exhausted his mind.

The smashing was weak and listless, as if it wasn't an act of venting anger, but rather a self-inflicted torment.

The altar was originally hastily pieced together from yellow mud and wood, and it was very unstable. Half of it collapsed in a few moments, and the fruits on the offering table rolled all over the ground and were covered with dust in the blink of an eye.

Jiang Yi stood not far away, watching quietly with a calm expression, showing no surprise.

This scene is exactly as Liang'er described earlier.

When a severe drought strikes, the first thing people do is always to make sporadic prayers and perform a few half-hearted rituals.

If that doesn't work, then we'll have to get serious.

A grand altar is set up, eminent monks are invited, or even the emperor issues an edict of self-reproach to announce it to the world.

I've heard that in some places, people will support the disabled during good years, but in years of drought, they will carry them to the mountaintop and leave them to be exposed to the scorching sun, hoping for divine mercy.

If after all this effort, not a drop of water falls from the sky, then it means the gods and Buddhas are not giving us face.

The awe in people's hearts will turn into resentment.

Therefore, the third step naturally follows.

Smash the Dragon King Temple, demolish the Rain God Shrine, drag out those clay and wooden puppets, and leave them to dry under the scorching sun. Ask them why they only eat and do nothing.

The major cities outside are now likely to be approaching the second stage as well.

Despite its small size, Liangjie Village is free of many formalities.

There was no powerful figure in the village who could issue an edict of self-reproach, and the village was secretly suppressed by the Gujin Gang, so there was never a scene of the whole village kneeling and begging.

Thus, skipping the intermediate steps, they directly stepped into the third realm.

He prayed to God, but to no avail.

Cursing God became his last thought.

Jiang Yi is now an elder in the village and has always been quite respected.

Along the way, whenever he met a fellow villager, he would stop and respectfully call him "Old Jiang".

Some, unable to resist, approached, their faces filled with pleading hope, and whispered inquiries:
"Old Jiang, you are very knowledgeable. What exactly is happening to the sky? Is there any way to save us?"

Jiang Yi would only glance up at the gray sky, so dry it seemed like it was about to spew sparks.

Then he sighed softly, patted the other person's shoulder, and said with a hint of helplessness in his voice:
"There's always a way out. Just hang in there a little longer, and things will get better."

That being said, he didn't mention a word about where the turning point might be.

Then, the light in that person's eyes visibly dimmed, and he sighed and shrank back into the corner.

Jiang Yi had witnessed this scene seven or eight times along the way.

He took in everyone's disappointment, but remained silent.

Just then, a cool, divine aura, as clear as water, quietly drifted in from the direction of the ancestral hall, untouched by smoke or fire.

Jiang Yi paused slightly.

In an instant, a pale blue shadow drifted out from the shrine, flickered several times, and solidified into Jiang Liang's figure, silently landing in front of him.

The villagers, with their ordinary eyes, could not see such a divine appearance, thus saving them the trouble of concealing it.

“Father.” Jiang Liang nodded, his expression solemn.

Jiang Yi stood with his hands behind his back, without saying a word.

“I’ve already asked,” Jiang Liang said succinctly. “The Liu family patriarch from the Tushita Palace sent down a message.”

At this point, he paused briefly, then his voice suddenly changed, and he imitated the pronunciation perfectly:

"No one cares about Liangjie Village, which is such a small place. Just... don't make a fuss about it."

Upon hearing this, Jiang Yi's tense lips relaxed slightly, almost imperceptibly.

These days, he has remained inactive, holding that bottle of lake water tightly in his hand, letting the village be shrouded in gloom, waiting for this very sentence.

He nodded slightly, then turned around, let out a long sigh, and gestured with his chin towards the villagers who had gathered around him:

"Sigh... If all else fails, let's dig each family's wells even deeper."

Upon hearing this, the excitement on those faces immediately vanished, and they all looked like wilted eggplants.

Someone couldn't help but mutter, "Old Jiang, we've tried this method before. The other day we dug down three feet into my well, but we didn't see a drop of water."

Jiang Yi, however, didn't seem to care, and simply smiled faintly:
"Times change. Underground water veins, like clouds in the sky, can also flow away. Just because they don't appear here doesn't mean they're gone there too. Trying anything is better than sitting idly by, isn't it?"

This sounds like nonsense, but upon closer examination, it seems to make some sense.

The group exchanged glances, seeing the same helplessness in each other's eyes, and finally nodded in agreement.

The next day, as soon as dawn broke, Liangjie Village was unusually lively.

The shouts of "Heave-ho, heave-ho!" rose and fell, creating a lively atmosphere. The young and strong men of the Gujin Gang took the lead, and the men from every household swung their arms, wielding picks and shovels, clanging and banging as they worked hard on their own wells.

Dust swirled, and sweat streamed down his dark back, mingling with muddy streaks.

The women gathered food in baskets, combining the last of their dry rations to cook a pot of thin porridge, which they then took to the well to give the men, who were engrossed in digging, a breath of fresh air.

However, the excitement faded away within half a day.

The sun climbed higher and higher, baking the ground until it seemed to smoke.

One well, two wells, three wells... The excavated soil piled up high, but the bottom of the wells was so dry it crumbled.

That glimmer of hope was completely extinguished as basket after basket of soil was brought up.

By noon, the shouts had become sparse and then disappeared completely.

The men slumped down by the well, staring blankly at the dark opening, their hearts empty.

After all that effort, nothing was gained.

Every courtyard in the village with a well had been ransacked, except for the old well in front of the Lingsu Temple.

This well doesn't belong to any particular family, and it's next to the ancestral hall, so it carries a certain reverence. No one touched it a few days ago.

But now, all the wells in the courtyard have been dug out, morale has plummeted, and the spirits have been completely broken.

Everyone's face was ashen, devoid of any energy.

Digging one more shovelful takes effort, digging one less shovelful also takes effort. There's no water coming out from either side, so why waste it?
Finally, Jiang Jin couldn't bear to watch any longer. She slowly walked out of the school, dressed in plain clothes, with a cold expression.

His gaze swept across the crowd and landed on a few men.

“Protector Niu, Protector Yu, and the rest of you, come with me.”

Protector Niu is Jiang Ming's childhood friend, Da Niu.

Yu Hufa is Yu Xiaodong, the grandson of Grandpa Yu. In his early years, because his family had a lot of fruit, he contributed a lot to the gang and is now considered a veteran.

Upon hearing this, the two men, without saying a word, picked up their tools and followed her toward the old well at Lingsu Temple.

The remaining villagers followed blankly behind, in twos and threes, like puppets being led by strings.

Finding a shady spot under a tree, they sat or squatted, listening to the clanging sounds from the bottom of the well, their expressions still numb.

"Sigh, another wasted effort..."

"Heaven is blind; even if you dig through the earth's core, there's no water."

"Our village is probably doomed."

Complaints and sighs, mixed with the sweltering heat, drifted through the village, adding to the sense of unease and frustration.

This went on for about half an hour.

The monotonous tapping sound at the bottom of the well suddenly stopped.

Immediately afterwards, a soft cry came from the deep well.

The crowd on the ground was stunned for a moment, then tensed up as if they had been pricked by a needle.

All eyes were instantly fixed on the dark well opening, so tense that they forgot to breathe.

The next moment, Da Niu's burly figure leaped from the well opening with the agility of a cat.

He was no longer the same as before; his breath was deep and his movements were light and agile.

He leaped up from the several-meter-deep well with ease, landing silently without even a tremor of his heels.

However, what was even more eye-catching was the object he was carefully holding in his arms.

It was a piece of bluestone about a foot high, with a warm and smooth texture and an ancient shape.

What's remarkable is that a pattern is naturally embossed on the stone surface.

An old man, riding a blue ox, holding a whisk, his beard and hair flowing, his eyes and brows carrying a hint of compassion, yet also a sense of transcendence, looking down upon all living beings.

Its demeanor and appearance bear a striking resemblance to the Taoist patriarch enshrined in the Taoist temple, with seven or eight points of similarity.

There was a deathly silence around the well.

The conversation was broken only moments later by a crude curse:

"Damn it! I thought it was some kind of treasure, but after all this time it's just a broken rock!"

A man suddenly sprang to his feet, the glimmer of hope that had just ignited on his face shattering instantly, turning into rage and ferocity.

His eyes were bloodshot, and he rushed forward in three strides, spitting as he spoke:

"We've worshipped gods and Buddhas for half our lives, and all we got was a drought! Now they're even coming out of the well to mess with us! I'll smash it to pieces!"

Before he finished speaking, he reached out to snatch the blue stone from Da Niu's arms.

Da Niu was startled by the fierce aura and instinctively hugged the stone statue in his arms tighter.

Just as the man's fingers were about to touch the bluestone, an old but steady hand gently rested on his wrist.

It's Jiang Yi.

They were already very close, their expressions indifferent, their eyes like still, deep wells.

"Zhou Laosan," his voice wasn't loud, but it carried an imposing weight, "what's the rush?"

Zhou Laosan had his neck stiff and his throat still burning with anger, but the moment he met those eyes, his arrogance involuntarily diminished.

Jiang Yi released his grip, then turned to look at the blue stone statue in Da Niu's arms, his tone slow, yet each word as firm as iron:

"If it's useless, you can just smash it; it's just an extra effort. But if it's truly useful... how can you treat it so lightly?"

"Useful?" Zhou Laosan scoffed, wanting to argue further.

Jiang Yi ignored him and took off his clean outer shirt. He walked to the stone statue and carefully wiped away the mud and moisture.

After doing all this, he picked up the stone statue with both hands, and walked steadily into the Lingsu Temple.

The light in the shrine was dim, and he placed the stone statue squarely in the center of the offering table.

Then, three sticks of aged incense were taken out and lit with an ever-burning lamp.

Wisps of smoke curled up, barely perceptible.

He took two steps back, slowly bent down in front of the naturally formed stone statue, and respectfully bowed three times.

The entire process was conducted at a measured pace, with impeccable manners.

It was as if they were worshipping not a stone dug from the bottom of a well, but a deity who had truly descended from the Tushita Heaven.

Outside the ancestral hall, the villagers, ultimately mindful of Jiang Yi's long-standing prestige, dared not make any more noise.

I just stood there at a distance, gazing longingly at the swirling incense smoke and at the old figure bowing in worship inside the shrine.

But in their eyes, there was no longer any respect.

There's no point in even talking about despair anymore.

It's a deeper void.

It was as if the last remaining thought in my heart, like the scorching sun of the past few days, had been dried up, crushed, and scattered in the wind with the dust.

His eyes were lifeless.

Inside and outside the ancestral hall, the silence was so profound that one could hear the faint crackling sound of the sun baking the earth.

The smoke from the three incense sticks rose straight up in the stuffy air and then slowly dissipated. The sandalwood scent was faint, but it couldn't dispel the dryness and numbness in everyone's chests.

Just now.

A hoarse shout suddenly erupted from the old well, which had been quiet for a moment.

The sound wasn't loud, but it hit me like a hammer blow!
"water!"

The shouts were broken, tinged with disbelief and trembling, yet also filled with uncontrollable ecstasy.

It was Yu Xiaodong who remained at the bottom of the well.

"Water...we've found water!!"

(End of this chapter)