C5 He Returned to the Mountain Village

Deep into the night, the small mountain village that had been abuzz for nearly two days had once again settled into silence. Dozens of families resided on this impoverished land, and by this hour, the lights were extinguished, and the doors firmly shut.

The only exception was the old Jing family home at the entrance of the village, where dim lights still flickered, casting shadows of a few figures. In the dilapidated courtyard, two coffins lay side by side, crudely sealed with resin in the absence of proper varnish.

Several elderly individuals sat beside the coffins, showing no signs of fatigue despite the late hour, their gazes fixed intently on the young men opposite them. Periodically, a few older women added coins fashioned from grass rolls to a stone basin in front of the coffins, casting a spectral glow that lent the scene an eerie atmosphere.

After a considerable silence, the middle-aged man seated among the elders hesitated before letting out a lament, "Ah, Dazhu, it's been almost two days now. Do we have any idea whether Little Chong is alive or dead?"

The old man's voice carried a note of concern, but his words immediately stirred the quiet gathering into a frenzy.

The first to react was a middle-aged man who, upon hearing the elder's words, showed a flash of barely contained rage on his weathered face. Casting a brief glance toward the distant woods, he bellowed, "Hmph, Uncle Li, enough with your defenses for Jing Chong. I've said it before, that boy is no good. He committed the unforgivable act of patricide and matricide. He's surely on the run from his crimes. If I ever get my hands on him, I swear I'll beat him to death!"

Dazhu's response resonated with the crowd, and as his words hung in the air, they incited a chorus of bitter agreement.

"Exactly! That boy deserves to die a hundred times over. Brother Jing's death was too cruel, all because of that monster!"

"Who doesn't know about his innate violent streak? There's no question about it!"

One by one, the people in the small courtyard became agitated, their movements creating an uncontrollable chaos.

Uncle Li, clearly taken aback by the uproar his words had caused, frowned deeply. Shaking, he rose to his feet and, after a fit of violent coughing, managed to wave his hands, signaling for calm amidst the turmoil.

The Jing family may have only settled in Dawnbreak a little over a decade ago, but I've watched Xiao Yi grow up before my very eyes. Contrary to what you've all been saying, Xiao Yi isn't as troublesome as you make him out to be. I'm certain there's more to the story that we're not seeing. But let's set that aside for now. Our immediate concern is arranging the funeral for Mr. and Mrs. Jing. What ideas do you all have?"

Uncle Li had spent a great deal of time with Jing Chong, so he was well-acquainted with Jing Chong's temperament. Yet, as Jing Chong became the subject of widespread scorn, Uncle Li found himself at a loss for words in his defense. He had hoped to offer more words in Jing Chong's favor, but the sight of everyone's indignant faces forced him to pivot the conversation to the matter of the Jing couple's funeral.

At that moment, in a secluded corner of the Jing residence, a figure was sobbing in agony just as Uncle Li finished speaking. His dark complexion turned a ghostly pale in the faint light.

Tears streamed down his face like pearls slipping off a string, and his stern features were starkly illuminated by the moonlight. It was Jing Chong, who had hurried back from the mountains without a moment's rest.

On his journey home, Jing Chong had hastily gathered some wild fruits to eat, which had fully restored his strength, leaving him looking revitalized.

Upon his arrival, he caught sight of the silhouettes in the courtyard and overheard Uncle Li and Dazhu discussing matters concerning him. Without realizing it, he paused to eavesdrop in silence.

The reason for his overwhelming tears wasn't just the sight of the coffins laid out in the courtyard; it was also Uncle Li's unwavering trust. By now, he had been vilified by the people as a devil incarnate, yet this elderly man, nearing the end of his days, continued to show him the same affection as always.

"What are we to do? Old Brother Jing may have only been a part of Dawnbreak for a little over ten years, but everyone knows he had a heart of gold. Who among us hasn't been on the receiving end of his kindness? But as the old saying goes, once dead, all debts are settled. With the Jing family facing such a tragedy today, it's beyond anyone's expectations. What can we, as their neighbors and fellow villagers, do? If we all chip in some money to cover the funeral expenses, that should suffice."

After a brief respite, a middle-aged man emerged from the group of youths in the courtyard. Unlike Dazhu, this man exuded a sense of kindness and gentleness. His words were measured and persuasive, and for a moment, no one raised any objections.

It was only then that Uncle Li let out a deep sigh of relief and nodded in agreement. He rose to his feet once more and, after a moment's contemplation, added, "As Lin mentioned, we've managed to cover the funeral costs, but the absence of mourning from filial descendants remains a challenge!" Uncle Li threw up his hands, presenting yet another dilemma.

A local legend held that after death, a person's soul would be seized by the King of Hell's emissaries. During judgment, these spirits would whip the soul mercilessly. However, if the cries of the deceased's offspring were heard, the whipping would be less severe.

Without descendants to mourn, the relentless whipping would cause the soul to disintegrate, making it impossible to transcend to the next cycle of rebirth.

In some wealthy and influential tribes, it was customary to hire professional mourners to uphold their reputation. These individuals made their living through their convincing lamentations, often earning a substantial fee for their services.

Yet, in this impoverished mountain village, such extravagance was out of the question. Even if the entire village pooled their resources, they could not afford to bring in these 'filial sons and virtuous grandsons.'

The Old Jing Family were outsiders, and Jing Chong's mother, Li Shi, hailed from Dawnbreak. Her family was small and lacked close kin, leaving Uncle Li, a man of great esteem, as their closest ally.

Uncle Li, Jing Chong's great-uncle, had no children of his own to fulfill the role of mourning descendants. With his advanced age, he placed his hope in the villagers.

Yet, traditionally, only direct descendants would take on the role of mourners. Few others would willingly invite such sorrow upon themselves.

The adage goes, "As the person departs, the tea cools." It was a significant feat for the villagers to come together and arrange a funeral for the Old Jing Family. To expect more would be asking too much.

Uncle Li's mind abruptly spiraled into reflection. He had reached his twilight years, and the days ahead were dwindling. He couldn't help but wonder what end would befall him a century from now.

At that thought, Uncle Li's gaze softened, and his eyes brimmed with tears. He found solace for his weary heart in his own melancholy and bitterness.

"So be it," he murmured.

Uncle Li, overcome with resignation, lips quivering, was on the verge of declaring his intention to abandon the search for a devoted son and a worthy grandson.

But just then, the gate of the Jing family's courtyard was gently nudged and swung open.

"Squeak!"

The noise of the gate creaking open cut sharply through the stillness of the night, drawing astonished stares from all around.

Blinking away disbelief, the crowd saw clearly who had arrived, and the once subdued air surged with renewed energy.

Dazhu, unable to contain his anger, was the first to storm out. He swung his massive hands, bear-paw-like, and launched an attack at the figure outside the gate.

"Crack!"

The sound echoed sharply, mingling with Dazhu's enraged bellow, "You disgraceful wretch, you have the nerve to show your face again!"