Chapter 523: Could a Daoist’s Words Be False?

“This year, the wheat ripened too late...”

“Not just late, the yield was poor. In some places, the wheat dried up completely. I couldn’t find any work at all.”

“This damned weather...”

These were the voices of the wheat reapers—migrant laborers who traveled to harvest wheat.

The economy of Great Yan was highly developed, offering many labor opportunities. The northwestern regions were rich in wheat production, but wealthy landlords who owned vast farmlands often lacked the manpower to harvest it all.

So, every year during the wheat season, countless farmers traveled thousands of li to Longzhou to work as reapers. They earned meals and meager wages in exchange for their labor, making it a temporary but vital livelihood.

These seasonal workers were called wheat reapers.

Before coming here, Song You had never seen such a system of migrant labor, even after traveling across Yizhou and dozens of other regions.

This was an eye-opening experience for him.

Some wheat reapers were locals of Longzhou, but since their own region did not grow wheat, they became seasonal laborers when harvest season arrived. Others came from neighboring provinces, traveling over a thousand li from farm to farm, racing against time to earn what little they could before moving on.

But this year, things were much worse.

The changing climate had caused wheat in the northwest to ripen far later than usual—significantly later. Many wheat reapers miscalculated their timing and arrived at the farms too early, only to find that there was no work yet.

Since wheat reapers were itinerant workers, even if they returned to the same farms every year and were familiar with the landowners, they were only fed if they worked. If there was no wheat to harvest, there was no free food.

And these wheat reapers were among the poorest of the poor.

They went out to work just to survive, carrying little to no money with them. If they couldn't find work, they had no food to eat and could end up starving to death right at the doorsteps of wealthy landlords.

This year’s drought had made everything worse.

With poor harvests and barren fields, there was even less work to be found. And now, with bandits also suffering under the drought, even they had started targeting wheat reapers—people so poor that thieves normally wouldn’t bother with them.

These were the lowest of the low in society.

Even an ordinary farmer was better off than a wheat reaper. They had zero ability to resist risk. Any disruption, whether a war or a change in climate, could completely wipe them out.

Song You lay on a slightly slanted dirt slope, staring up at the sky full of stars.

In his hand, he absently tore off pieces of roasted flatbread, eating without thinking as he listened to their conversations.

When suffering reached its absolute extreme, a person gained a peculiar form of detachment toward life itself.

The wheat reapers gathered tonight weren’t just talking about where there was no work, but also about the people they had lost—old companions who had gone from looking for jobs to begging for food.

But with the entire northwest ravaged by disaster, even begging was no longer an option.

The bandits on horses, who used to ignore them, had now begun preying on them, and those who failed to find food simply starved to death in foreign lands—their names erased, their existence forgotten.

Yet, as the wheat reapers spoke, they did not wail or complain.

Their words carried resignation, tinged with numbness—as if they had already foreseen their own fate and had long since accepted it.

“Luckily, the landowners in Bai Commandery are Buddhists. They're kind-hearted. They gave us a few meals. If not, we might’ve starved to death on the way here.”

“Ain’t that the truth? I’ve got my boy with me. If we hadn’t come across a generous landowner, we’d have already starved. I didn’t even get any work, but at least they gave us a couple of bites to eat. If it was just me, starving to death wouldn’t matter much. But he’s my only child. If he dies... our family line ends.”

Those who managed to survive this journey likely had some luck on their side.

As the conversation continued, the topic gradually shifted.

“They say the great drought in Longzhou and Shazhou this year was caused by demons. Is that true?”

“I heard the drought in the Western Regions is even worse!”

“Demons? I heard it was because the fire altar of the Terraflame Kingdom in the Shazhou desert shattered, releasing fire qi, which led to the drought in Longzhou and Shazhou.”

“I heard it was the Fire God of Flame Mountain in the Western Regions who got angry. They say that nowadays, people only worship the Buddha and no longer believe in the Fire God, so the Fire God cast a spell to bring drought to the northwest!”

“The people from Bai Commandery say it’s because the people of the northwest have gradually stopped venerating Daoism and the Heavenly Palace, worshiping only the Buddha. This angered the Great Emperor Chijin in the heavens, so he ordered the rain deities to withhold rainfall, leaving the land dry and unlivable.”

Everyone spoke one after another, their accents differing, but they could still understand each other. They often lowered their voices as they exchanged ideas, eyes wide, as if discussing some forbidden topic, afraid that heavenly deities or night-wandering demons might overhear and bring misfortune upon them.

The Lady Calico, who had been busy catching lizards in the desert, perked up upon hearing a topic of interest. She ran back, sat properly beside the Daoist, and stared seriously at the wheat reapers.

In the darkness, another pair of bright black eyes gleamed.

They belonged to the son of a middle-aged wheat reaper. The boy looked to be around ten years old, yet he was already traveling the world with his father, carrying the marks of hard labor on his small frame.

Tales of gods, spirits, and demons fascinated children the most. No matter how difficult life was, a child was still a child. At this moment, he huddled close to his father, wide-eyed in the night, occasionally glancing at the Daoist in his robe and the calico cat beside him while listening intently to the adults’ solemn discussion about demons and spirits.

“Since last year, the world has been restless. Many people walking at night have encountered ghosts, and those traveling through the mountains have run into monsters. You never know, you just never know.”

“The heavens must be blind!”

As the hushed discussion continued, an unfamiliar voice suddenly cut in, “And what do the legends say about this Terraflame Kingdom and Flame Mountain?”

Everyone turned toward the source of the voice.

In the dim glow of the evening sky, they could vaguely make out a Daoist sitting there, just rising from his rest. They now recalled that a young Daoist had indeed arrived in the afternoon, the only one in this clearing with a horse, a large bundle of belongings, and a cat resting beside him.

“Huh...?”

“Oh, I had only heard vague mentions of Flame Mountain and the Terraflame Kingdom before, but never in detail. Now that you all speak of them in relation to this year’s drought in the northwest, my curiosity is piqued. I was hoping you could enlighten me—where exactly are Flame Mountain and the Terraflame Kingdom, and what makes them so unique?”

Song You sat there in the darkness, not minding whether they could see him clearly. He performed a respectful salute, his eyes reflecting the remnants of twilight in the western sky.

The wheat reapers exchanged uneasy glances, a bit apprehensive.

Their hesitation wasn’t due to the Daoist’s identity, but rather their own self-consciousness—they felt too unrefined to speak on such matters, making them hesitant to answer.

“S-Sir, if you head west from here, you’ll leave Longzhou and reach Shazhou. Beyond Shazhou, deep in the desert, lies the Terraflame Kingdom. It is said that beneath the Terraflame Kingdom, there is a fire altar, a treasured relic. Flames emerge from the cracks in the ground and never go out, burning all year round. The locals rely on these fires for cooking and heating.”

Finally, someone spoke up, though his voice trembled. “B-Beyond Shazhou, not far into the Western Regions, there is a Flame Mountain, where the entire mountain burns without ever being extinguished. That place gets so hot during the day that people can literally die from the heat. A Fire God resides within the mountain. He’s an incredibly powerful being whom the locals have worshiped for many generations.”

After finishing, he hastily added, “This is just what we’ve heard... none of us have seen it with our own eyes.”

“Is the drought in the northwest severe?”

“Severe, very severe. It’s a bit better here, but the farther west you go, the worse it gets. They say that beyond Shazhou, in some parts of the Western Regions, not even grass grows anymore.”

The wheat reaper lowered his voice and whispered, “In some places, people have smashed the statues of the Dragon Lord in anger. Others have sent out groups of high-ranking monks to hunt down demons believed to have caused the drought.”

“I see.” Song You nodded and cupped his hands in thanks. “Thank you.”

The wheat reaper did not respond, only lowering his head in silence.

For a short while afterward, the rest of the wheat reapers quietly observed Song You. They neither dared to question him nor openly discuss anything in his presence. Only after some time had passed did they gradually resume their conversation, continuing their discussion about demons and evil beings.

Meanwhile, Song You’s mind lingered on those two places.

At this point, he had already gathered the spiritual resonance of three out of the five directions needed to consolidate the underworld, corresponding to metal, earth, and water. The only ones left were fire and wood. Given the geography of the northwest, it was highly likely that this region was associated with the fire element.

He wondered if he would find it in one of those two places.

As the last traces of sunset faded, the stars grew even brighter.

Above him, the Milky Way stretched across the sky, visible to the naked eye.

Exhausted after a long day, the wheat reapers did not chat for long before securing their belongings and food, then drifting off to sleep. Soon, the clearing was filled with the sound of snoring, rising and falling in waves.

The Daoist slowly closed his eyes as well.

***

The next morning, before dawn, the sound of voices reached his ears.

As he gradually woke up, the voices became clearer.

It was Lady Calico speaking with a child. Most of the time, only Lady Calico’s voice could be heard, while the child occasionally responded in short, timid phrases—his tone carrying the cautious hesitancy of a child from a poor family. After asking a question, he would quickly fall silent again. He listened as the young girl eagerly explained the origins of the Danxia landform, proudly showcasing her knowledge.

For those who had gone to sleep early the previous night, it was difficult to sleep straight through until full daylight. So even though the sky was still filled with stars in the early morning, many of the wheat reapers were already awake.

Some remained silent, while others, finding the conversation interesting, quietly listened to the girl’s storytelling.

Of course, her knowledge was simply what she had overheard on the road the day before.

“Are... Are immortal's elixirs really multicolored?”

“Of course they are! When immortals refine their elixirs, they have to add the celestial five-colored auspicious clouds. So the pills they create are naturally multicolored, and they even glow!”

“Then... then do those clouds, the auspicious ones and the ones in the evening sky, really have pigments inside them?”

The child’s voice was hushed, filled with apprehension.

“They do!”

Though the little girl spoke softly, her tone was firm and unwavering, without the slightest hesitation. “The pigments come from the sun. Every morning, the sun sends pigments over, and at different times of the day, they dye the clouds different colors. By evening, the pigments are collected back. If the sky shatters, and the pigments fall to the ground, they’ll dye the mountains in all sorts of colors!”

The child lay pressed against his father, eyes wide with wonder as he listened.

Seeing this reaction, the little girl was immensely pleased.

Song You, however, remained utterly silent.

“You’re making that up...”

“I am not!”

“Then how... how do you know?”

“My Daoist priest told me! My Daoist priest is amazing. He’s more powerful than even the immortals in the heavens! He never lies!”

“...”

Lying nearby, Song You grew even more silent.

His eyes, which had just opened, simply closed again. He decided to go back to sleep.