The day after Chen Fan left, heavy rain fell again in Fenglai Town.

  In the farthest corner of the town, the dilapidated temple collapsed under the downpour, raising a cloud of dust that quickly dissipated in the rain.

  When the rain stopped, the townspeople discovered the ruins of the temple and Chen Fan's departure. They merely sighed.

  Perhaps it was the lingering presence of the temple's spiritual energy, or maybe it was the vitality that Chen Fan brought with him, which allowed the old structure to last as long as it did.

  Speculation abounded, but no one cared much about Chen Fan’s whereabouts.

  Just a cripple, after all—a subject for idle gossip over tea and meals.

  If it wasn’t Chen Fan, it would have been someone else.

  Before long, though, someone discovered the body of the yellow-robed elder outside the local tavern, along with the lifeless, dazed expressions of Er Biao and the others.

  The news of an immortal master being killed—right in Fenglai Town—was earth-shattering for its residents.

  The local authorities were quickly alerted. The surviving Er Biao and his group were taken in for questioning.

  But Er Biao only laughed foolishly and suddenly began convulsing in the yamen. In his frantic movements, he accidentally kicked a doorframe, fell headfirst onto the stone floor, and died as blood pooled around him.

  With Er Biao gone, the remaining disciples in Daoist robes recounted what had happened the previous night.

  Soon, Chen Fan’s portrait spread far and wide, carried by the wind.

  It caused little stir.

  In a world where mortals and immortals coexisted, there weren’t many clear distinctions between right and wrong.

  The dead were simply dead.

  Chen Fan’s image hung on the wanted boards for a time, but wind and rain eventually eroded it, replaced by other wanted notices.

  It was as if none of it had ever happened.

  ...

  With a straw hat tilted in the setting sun, green hills receded into the distance.

  On the main road, the sunset painted a beautiful landscape.

  Exhausted, Chen Fan stopped where he was and looked up at the sky.

  He admired the sunset, occasionally seeing birds flying past, their silhouettes adding to the scene's beauty.

  If not for the empty gourd at his waist, he might have chosen to spend the night here.

  But now, he couldn’t linger—he had to get to the city to buy wine.

  As beautiful as the scenery was, one look was enough for Chen Fan.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  To him, it couldn’t compare to a pot of wine among the flowers.

  Using his crutch for support, Chen Fan resumed his wobbly steps.

  In this time of walking and stopping, he had left the boundaries of Fenglai Town.

  He just didn’t know how far it was to the nearest town.

  Suddenly, the sound of galloping hooves echoed behind him, followed by a loud shout:

  “Hey, cripple! Limping in the middle of the road? Do you want to die?”

  Before Chen Fan could step aside, several black-brown horses rushed past, brushing by him and kicking up a cloud of dust.

  Chen Fan stood still, wiping the dust off his face.

  “Ptooey, ptooey.”

  It must be nice to have a horse, he thought.

  Chen Fan couldn’t help but marvel but wasn’t envious.

  After all, he had made it this far on his own two feet.

  For someone like him, time and perseverance were the least of his concerns.

  The road ahead was long, but it was just a matter of effort.

  But before long, the same group of riders returned, retracing their path.

  At the front was a black-faced man with a wide grin.

  Looking at Chen Fan’s attire, he chuckled and said, “Brother, with bandits roaming the hills, aren’t you afraid of being robbed walking alone like this?”

  Chen Fan shook his head and patted his pockets, which were emptier than his stomach.

  “Afraid? Not really.”

  “Well then,” the man said with a laugh, “it just so happens we’re heading to the city. Seeing as you’re struggling with that leg, why not come with us?”

  “I can’t afford to pay you.”

  “We don’t talk money for lending a hand.”

  The black-faced man grinned and extended his hand toward Chen Fan.

  “Well, thank you kindly.”

  Chen Fan raised his crutch, letting the man grab it and hoist him onto the horse.

  “Hyah!”

  With a shout, the black-faced man spurred his horse forward, the others quickly following.

  “How far is it to the city?” Chen Fan asked.

  “Not far, about half an hour’s walk—or just fifteen minutes on horseback.”

  The man answered, his voice carried by the wind.

  “And what might your name be, good sir?”

  “The name’s Zhang, Zhang Mazi. Those are my brothers—different fathers, different mothers—but we’re all men who do good deeds without leaving names!”

  “Really, Brother Zhang?”

  “Of course!” Zhang Mazi laughed heartily.

  Chen Fan fell silent.

  Warmth surged in his heart. Regardless of everything else, this half-hour journey on foot would have taken him half a day.

  Now, on horseback, it would take just fifteen minutes.

  There were still good people in the world.

  But as they rode, Chen Fan began to sense something was off.

  The once-wide road narrowed considerably.

  On the roadside, discarded sacks and torn clothing became more frequent.

  Chen Fan froze.

  “This isn’t the way to the city!”

  “Hahahaha~”

  The riders behind him, including Zhang Mazi, burst into laughter.

  “Brother, we’ve got ourselves a rookie this time!”

  “This one’s going to be fun. Hey, Third Brother, weren’t you short of a helper?”

  “Yeah, and he’s not bad-looking, even with that limp. He’s got a refined, elegant vibe.”

  Listening to their chatter, Chen Fan was stunned.

  “Wait, didn’t you say you’re men who do good deeds without leaving names?”

  Zhang Mazi grinned wickedly.

  “That’s right—good deeds without leaving lives!”

  “Listen up! There aren’t other bandits in these hills. I’m the bandit!”

  ...

  Qingfeng Stronghold.

  Calling it a stronghold was an insult to the name.

  In reality, it was just a small gang of seven or eight, hiding in a large forest and robbing passing travelers.

  When the authorities searched the hills, they would hide like mice, evading capture.

  A few makeshift huts formed the entirety of their operation.

  Inside, Chen Fan was released without any restrictions.

  The gang wasn’t worried he’d escape—after all, he was crippled. Where could he go?

  Chen Fan adapted quickly.

  Barely seated, he noticed a few uneaten pancakes and a jug of murky liquor on the table.

  Without hesitation, he grabbed them and started eating.

  Seeing this, Zhang Mazi’s temper flared. He raised a foot to kick Chen Fan.

  “Hey, we brought you here to work, not to enjoy yourself!”

  Before the kick landed, Chen Fan blocked it with his crutch.

  “Work? What kind of work?”

  “Guarding, chores, chopping wood, feeding the horses...”

  Listening to Zhang Mazi rattle off a list of tasks, Chen Fan shook his head.

  “That’s too much work. How about I play you a tune on the suona instead?”

  Only then did Zhang Mazi and his gang notice the suona at Chen Fan’s waist.

  A cripple playing the suona—it was certainly novel.

  Grinning, Zhang Mazi saw it as an unexpected bonus.

  He nodded, signaling Chen Fan to proceed.

  And so, Chen Fan lifted the suona to his lips...