Dao Qi Wu Zang Guan Guan: I became a Daoist Master in the 1990s

Chapter 52 Black Wind Stronghold (Bonus chapter for those who love reading and keep reading!)
The scarred man shouted and herded Qi Yun and his group into the village gate.

Under the eaves of the Hall of Gathering Righteousness, a thin, middle-aged man wearing a worn silk shirt and sporting a mustache was picking his teeth, his eyes gleaming with a sinister gaze as he scrutinized them.

"Third Master!" The scarred man immediately put on a fawning smile and trotted over. "The 'tribute' from Song Family Village has arrived. Would you like to count it?"

The man with the rat-like beard, known as the third leader, didn't even lift his eyelids. He lazily waved his hand, pointing with a toothpick to a low but sturdy stone house on the west side of the village: "Okay, got it. Move it to the granary and stack it properly. Hurry up!"

The scarred man nodded repeatedly, then turned and glared at Qi Yun and the others: "Did you hear me? Move them in! Arrange them neatly! If you dare to slack off, I'll skin you alive!"

No one dared to slack off. Enduring their exhaustion and humiliation, they carried grain sacks and made trip after trip between the village gate and the dark granary.

The heavy grain sacks bent their backs, and sweat splattered onto the compacted mud.

Qi Yun silently carried it, his gaze sweeping over the paths and sentry posts throughout the village without making a sound.

Those bandits, including the third leader and the scarred man, just stood by and watched, showing no intention of helping out. They pointed and gestured as if they were watching a group of ants carrying things.

It wasn't until the sun was high in the sky, scorching the valley, that the last bag of grain was finally moved with great difficulty into the cool granary.

Qi Yun wiped the sweat from his face, walked up to the scarred man who had been leaning against a pillar with his arms crossed, bowed slightly, and said respectfully, "Your Majesty, the grain has been moved and stacked properly."

"Look, can't the little people do it?"

"Get out of here! You bunch of useless idiots, dawdling along!"

The scarred man waved his hand impatiently, as if shooing away flies.

As if granted a pardon, everyone relaxed their tense nerves and a hint of relief at escaping death appeared on their faces. They turned to walk towards the village gate.

"stop!"

A sinister voice suddenly came from the direction of the Hall of Righteousness. It wasn't loud, but it pierced everyone's eardrums like an ice pick.

Everyone froze instantly, cold sweat pouring down their backs. Qi Yun's heart sank, and he slowly turned around.

Suddenly, the third leader with the rat-whisker had strolled under the eaves, hands behind his back, his triangular eyes narrowed, and he looked them over with a forced smile. He said slowly, "It's a rare trip to the stronghold, are you in such a hurry to leave? If word gets out, won't it make Black Wind Stronghold seem like we don't know how to treat guests?"

Qi Yun quickly stepped forward, lowering his posture even further: "Third Master, you flatter us! We are just uncultured peasants, and we really dare not disturb the peace of the kings. We will..."

"Hmm?" The third leader snorted a dangerous, rising tone, his triangular eyes suddenly widening, revealing a fierce glint. "I said entertain, so it means entertain!"

"What? You think the food and drink of my Black Wind Stronghold are unworthy of you peasants?!"

His voice suddenly rose, filled with hostility.

Everyone was so frightened that their legs went weak, and they waved their hands and shook their heads repeatedly, unable to speak coherently.

The third leader put on that fake smile again, as if his previous ferocity was just an illusion: "That's right!"

Perfect timing! The village is short-handed lately, so we need to expand the number of houses.

"You guys, stay and lend a hand! Once the job's done, you'll be allowed to go home!"

He gestured to one of his henchmen beside him: "Take them over there! Keep an eye on them!"

The henchman responded and shouted menacingly, "Follow me! Hurry up!"

The faces of Song Laosan and his men instantly drained of color. They dared not speak out in anger, and their eyes were filled with nothing but despair and numbness.

Qi Yun remained expressionless as he followed the henchman toward a construction site on the east side of the village where logging and earthwork were underway.

Behind them, the third leader's slurred music drifted out.

For an entire afternoon, the heavy sounds of tamping earth, the harsh sawing of wood, and the shouts and whippings of the overseers, mixed with the smell of sweat and dust, overwhelmed Qi Yun and his companions.

Moving stones, mixing mud, and passing timber, they mechanically repeated hard labor, like oxen and horses yoked.

The sun finally began to set in the west. Dusk fell quickly in the mountains.

The western sky was ablaze with a magnificent and dazzling sunset, a tapestry of orange-red, golden-purple, and indigo hues.

It adorns the rolling mountains with a dazzling golden edge.

The birds returning to their nests chattered in the woods, their sounds gradually merging into a chorus.

The evening breeze swept through the valley, carrying the lingering heat of the day and the coolness rising from the depths of the forest, fluttering the tattered flags in front of the Hall of Righteousness.

Qi Yun put down the heavy soil and stones in his hands, straightened up, and stretched his sore and stiff back.

His gaze fell upon the entrance to the winding mountain road.

An equally exhausted group was being driven by several armed bandits, struggling to move uphill along the mountain path they had come from.

The group consisted entirely of emaciated farmers, each carrying heavy sacks of grain on their shoulders.

At the very front of the procession stood a figure dressed in a gray Taoist robe!
The Taoist priest was not tall, and his head was slightly lowered, so his face could not be seen. His wide Taoist robe fluttered in the twilight mountain wind, and his steps were steady. He stood out among a group of hunched farmers.

"Hey, those bastards from Wangjiazhuang, they know how to pick their timing!" Old Song, who was so tired he could barely stand up straight, glanced at the group, recognized the people in them, and couldn't help but spit under his breath, his tone filled with envy and resentment. "They only bring up the grain now, just in time to avoid being forced into hard labor! They're much smarter than us!"

A man next to him quickly tugged at his sleeve and glanced nervously towards the overseer: "Third Brother! Say less!"

Song Laosan realized he had spoken out of turn and quickly shut his mouth, but the resentment on his face only deepened.

At this moment, the hall was filled with the smell of alcohol and oil splattered everywhere.

Roasted pork, stewed chicken, beef and mutton were piled on rough earthenware plates, the rough earthenware bowls clattered loudly, and the table was covered with greasy wine.

The leaders, their mouths glistening with grease, chewed loudly, each holding a peasant woman in their arms, her clothes half-undone, her eyes revealing barely suppressed panic.

In the center of the hall, a dancer draped in a thin veil twisted her waist, her alluring eyes like hooks. The veil was about to fall off, and the spring light, like newly melted snow, flowed dangerously amidst her rough breathing.

At the very top, a towering man sat astride like a mountain—none other than the head of the gang, "Hunshanhu" (meaning "Mountain Tiger").

His neck was as thick as a cow's, his eyes were fixed on the thin veil that was about to slip off, his throat bobbed, and he gulped down a bowl of strong liquor.

The dancer twirled her waist, and the thin veil was about to fall!

"Boss!" A reckless shout broke through the sticky heat in the hall.

A hot-headed young leader barged in, sweating profusely.

Hunshanhu's interest was abruptly cut short, and a fierce glint flashed in his eyes.

"What's all this commotion about?" Hunshanhu's voice was as deep as muffled thunder.

"The offerings from Wangjiazhuang at the foot of the mountain have been delivered!"

Hunshanhu waved his fan-like hand impatiently.

"Is such a trivial matter worth reporting?"

"But the one leading you is a Taoist priest! He said... he said he would personally present you with a treasure!"

"Oh?"

Taoist priest? Treasure? The anger that had been stirred up on his fleshy face subsided slightly, and his eyes darted around in a drunken haze and a fierce glint.

"Bring it up!"

(End of this chapter)