Where the wind chimes sound, there is a god

Chapter 6 The Medium's Murderous Intentions

The sky gradually brightened, and an hour later the sun was at its highest point. The yang energy was growing, making Chen Beimo's whole body feel hot. Naturally, the water in his vagina could no longer enter.

He wiped the sweat from his cheeks with his sleeve and helplessly put away the piece of cloth and the two books. It cannot be said that he gained nothing, but he gained nothing at all.

It seemed that he was not a genius or prodigy in Qi cultivation, so Chen Beimo had to pack up, open the front door and go to the noodle shop owned by the third grandmother next door on his left.

Before he even got there, he saw Boss Wang greeting him warmly: "Ermo, come here. You must be hungry. Come and sit down. I'll ask your sister-in-law to make you a big bowl of noodles."

Chen Beimo smiled a little embarrassedly and said, "Sorry to bother you, sister-in-law and brother. I didn't have enough in the morning and I'm a little hungry at noon."

"Oh, it's okay, come and sit down." Boss Wang smiled and brought a small dish of pickled vegetables to the table outside the door. He helped him sit down and said, "We are neighbors, there is nothing to be embarrassed about.

Remember, come and eat whenever you are hungry. Dahuai and I are old friends. We have entrusted you to our family, and we will definitely not let you starve."

As he was talking, Wang Lao Da's wife came over with a bowl of fragrant plain noodles and said with a smile, "Not bad, come and tell me when you're hungry next time."

"I don't feel comfortable doing this." Chen Beimo pretended to be embarrassed.

"Why, you have grown up under my watch." Boss Wang said unhappily, "You can't let my family take your four and a half acres of mountain farmland for free, right? You are making me angry!"

Seeing that he was really angry, Chen Beimo could only agree reluctantly.

Old Man Wang and Grandma Wang San had two sons and one daughter. The eldest son, Wang Xi, was the most honest and simple-hearted. He married a beautiful wife, Xu Yuan, and he usually helped Grandma San run the noodle shop business.

The second son, Wang He, is only 17 years old this year, one year older than him. He is a carpentry apprentice. He usually works in a carpentry shop a few streets ahead and goes home to sleep at night.

The youngest daughter, Wang Miao, is only ten years old and usually helps in the kitchen in the backyard.

Although this big family has many people, thanks to the good character of the elder, Grandma Wang San, the family is harmonious, and with a harmonious family, the business will naturally be prosperous.

The Yangchun noodle shop they opened is popular with people from the surrounding streets who would come to eat. Two cents for a bowl of noodles may not seem like a lot, but they can sell at least a hundred bowls a day, which adds up to a lot.

While Chen Beimo was eating noodles, Wang Lao Da and his wife were busy entertaining other guests. The front hall was full of people eating noodles, and there were eight small tables in front of the door. In the back hall, noodles were cooked in a large pot of hot soup. When they were served, they were served in a large bowl. Then, they were divided into more than a dozen bowls in the front hall, topped with coriander, one or two drops of sesame oil, and served with a small dish of pickled vegetables. It was refreshing, filling, and affordable.

After he finished his noodles and filled his stomach, he said goodbye and went home.

In those days, people used to have breakfast and dinner a day. However, in recent years, as Jincheng has gradually been influenced by the customs of the Jin Dynasty, workers have to add a meal at noon, making it three meals a day.

But poor people still have two meals a day or even one meal a day. Rich and poor will exist regardless of the era.

Chen Beimo rubbed his stomach, locked the door, and prepared to go to the attic for a leisurely nap.

It's a rare sunny day today, but it's not suitable for cultivating the mysterious Yin Zhong Shui, let alone opening a business.

Because of a recent death in the family, the store cannot be reopened until at least three months later. Otherwise, it would be considered unfilial and the news would spread throughout several streets by the seventy or eighty households in Xishui Street.

The attic window was half open, and soft light and shadow fell in the quiet attic. A string of golden bells hung on the head of the bed, and occasionally one or two crisp bells rang as the breeze blew. Chen Beimo, covered with a thin quilt, fell asleep peacefully.

In the quiet attic courtyard, several snakes were moving silently in the empty yard, either basking in the warm sun or nestling in the shade, patiently waiting for food.

The sun's shadow gradually moved westwards, the yang energy of noon gradually weakened, and the yin energy gradually rose. At two quarters past three in the afternoon, Chen Beimo slowly woke up.

In ancient times, there were no clocks to tell time, but there were sundials, clepsydras and other timekeeping methods. However, he certainly didn't have these things at home. He woke up when he heard monks knocking on wooden fish and shouting "2:00 pm" on the street.

The monks who tell time are mostly from nearby monasteries. They will tell time along the main streets. They will walk once every hour every day, except at five o'clock in the morning.

Don't think that they are being kind-hearted. Every time these monks report the time, they will ask for a penny from each family. If they report seven or eight hours a day, they will give them a penny for each hour.

Then the next day, the monk would ask the next seven or eight households for a penny. Fortunately, there were eighty or ninety households in Xishui Street, and it only cost three or two cents a month to know every hour of the day, which was very convenient.

Chen Beimo had not yet fully woken up from his deep sleep. He tossed and turned for a while before slowly getting up and muttering to himself, "I'm alone at home, so I'm too lazy to do anything, not even cook."

The attic window was open, and the afterglow illuminated the archways and tiled houses on the 12th Street of Xifang. Looking to the east, there were tall houses with green tiles and jade-green eaves.

Among the four districts of Jincheng, the East District is where the nobles live, while Xishui Street including the entire West District is where common people and even poor beggars live.

Under the setting sun, Dongfang is tall and noble, like a mountain pressing down on the common people. I heard that Jincheng will also start collecting business taxes and land taxes from next year, and even start collecting corvée labor in two or three years.

The reason why there was no taxation before was that Jincheng was in constant war fourteen years ago and was taken back from Wu by Jin State. In order to quell the war and stabilize the people's hearts, taxes and labor service were exempted for fifteen years.

But starting next year, the collection will begin.

Thinking of this, Chen Beimo shook his head. He was still an ordinary citizen and could not avoid these problems. Although the family assets left by his master and senior brothers were not small, they could not afford to be eaten without spending. He still had to learn the skills of making food.

Chen Beimo lazily took some tools, sat under the long rain gallery and started to continue working on the unfinished oil-paper umbrella.

As the sun sets, the sunlight in the yard fades, leaving only tranquility. Three or five snakes are moving freely. Chen Beimo is threading the needle back and forth on the umbrella stand. There is no noisy voice of people, nor the chaos of being on the run. Even though wandering around the world is thrilling, living alone in a small family has its own charm.

The first day after my senior brother left home passed in such an uneventful manner.

……

On the second day of March, Chen Beimo got up early in the morning and began to repeat what he had done yesterday. However, it took him five full hours to sit by the well and try to draw in the Qi. The Qi penetrated the thirty-six acupoints of Yin Zhongshui intermittently, but he was never able to complete it in one go.

If you can't do it in one go, the Qi will not enter your body and form water.

Chen Beimo stood up slowly in the night, feeling sore in his back, waist and buttocks.

No wonder people often say that spiritual practice is lonely. As time goes by, he can hardly endure a day. If he sits for a long time, he will inevitably have distracting thoughts in his mind, or he will feel drowsy. He has very little time to maintain a calm mind.

He slept soundly that night and did not wake up until noon. However, he felt refreshed, far from the groggy feeling he usually felt when waking up.

Chen Beimo was in a good mood after feeling this change, which was probably the effect of practicing the ancient method. However, he did not devote himself to practice today, but went out alone with a bamboo basket, paper money, incense and candles. Today was the seventh day after his master's death, and he wanted to burn incense in front of the grave.

Walking through Xishui Street, the street is very lively with people coming and going.

Then he remembered that today was the third day of March, when most temple fairs in Jincheng were held. There were many businessmen dressed in their best on the streets, as well as popular mediums among the people!

Chen Beimo has always been taboo about these things, because when he first came to this world, he was tortured by a witch in many ways. She said it was to exorcise evil spirits but in fact it was to cheat money. But the witch believed in it and he could only endure it silently.

Now that I’m getting older, I don’t have any good feelings for him anymore.

He came to a small stall. The stall owner was a kind-looking lady. When she saw him, she smiled and said, "Ermo, are you going up the mountain?"

"Auntie Zhou, you guessed it right. Today is the seventh day since my master passed away." Chen Beimo also stepped forward with a smile and said, "It's a long way to the mountain, so I thought of buying some steamed buns to eat. Your cooking skills are the best in these streets."

"Oh, it's the seventh day." Aunt Zhou's eyes curved even more when she was praised. She took four or five soft and sticky dough balls from the steamer in front of her, wrapped them in oil paper and handed them to him, saying, "Take them to eat on the way. Dahuai has gone on a long journey and you are the only child without anyone to rely on. Any help from the neighbors in the village will be appreciated."

Chen Beimo still took out five coins from his sleeve and stuffed them into her pocket, saying, "Auntie, I know you care about me. But who doesn't make a living with these coins? Just take them."

Aunt Zhou refused several times before accepting it, but she also gave him two more millet dumplings and said, "These are rice dumplings from the east, they will satisfy your hunger.

Eat more on the way, it's good for you to grow taller. You look so thin that even my grandson is stronger than you."

In the eyes of simple country people and ordinary people, being physically strong is something to be boasted about, and only those with ample financial resources can eat to have a strong body.

Chen Beimo smiled and said, "Brother Pier is very capable of growing. I'm afraid he'll be taller than my senior brother in a few years."

"Oh, that's incomparable." Aunt Zhou pointed at the sturdy young man who was walking by and said, "How can a jerk like him compare to Da Huai? Da Huai is the most promising man in our Xishui Street!"

Chen Beimo was a little surprised. He originally thought that being a martial artist was just a profession, but he didn't expect that in the eyes of the public, his status was so high, comparable to that of a scholar.

Their street was full of small vendors, who were considered merchants and could not take the imperial examinations. Naturally, this included Chen Beimo.

He walked out of Xishui Street and headed towards the West City Gate.

The streets are bustling with people. Jincheng has had an increasing population in recent years and is gradually becoming prosperous. Various temple fairs and cultural customs are being performed at the intersections.

Chen Beimo had no intention of watching, because the more people there are in a place, the more you have to be careful about your belongings, as there are probably countless thieves hiding here.

Unexpectedly, as he just brushed past a patrolling boy, he was suddenly bumped into and almost fell to the ground.

A group of people surrounded him in an instant, and noisy and chaotic voices swept over him.

Chen Beimo looked up, only to see a mighty and domineering officer with a white face and black lines, wearing a crown and a long silk ribbon, and the chief medium was glaring at him.

Then the two mediums who were acting as the gods beside him also stopped and turned their heads suddenly. The gods wearing green crowns and robes with black and white vertical stripes walked slowly towards him with a strange pace.

Chen Beimo was shocked, but he felt that the three mediums in front of him were murderous. There was an invisible aura that suppressed him so much that he couldn't even lift his feet.

"How is this going?"

He had lived in Jincheng for ten years, so he naturally knew that this was the folk culture of mediums summoning gods that had been passed down from ancient times in Guangnan area. However, Chen Beimo always thought that these were just personal beliefs and sacrificial activities.

But he didn't expect to bump into them today. He knew that they were the legendary two generals under Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva, and the one in front was the guide god White Crane Boy.

As soon as the three gods stopped, the people who were assisting them in the parade also stopped and said solemnly, "This may be a ghost!"

"What? Is there something evil about this kid?"

"It looks like he's not going away! Look at the different capitals of several officers and generals!"

The ancients believed in these superstitions about ghosts and gods the most. They even did not believe in what they saw, but only believed in the words of ghosts and gods.

Chen Beimo couldn't help but yelled in astonishment: "Brothers, what are you doing?"

The sounds of gongs, drums and music beside him covered up his words. The sound was as powerful as the clanging of metal and shook people's hearts. The three generals stepping on the Seven Star Zhenggang Steps became more and more powerful and terrifying. The onlookers unconsciously stepped back a few steps and formed a big circle.

The white-faced medium walked seven feet in front of Chen Beimo, and suddenly his body trembled. The pupils under the mask were dilated and vaguely vertical, not like those of an ordinary person. He looked down at Chen Beimo and felt that his whole body was extremely cold. An inexplicable thought arose in his mind: "I will die! He wants to kill me!"

Without time to think, Chen Beimo took out the paper money and incense from the basket and shouted, "My dear family member has just passed away, and there may be residual souls of my dear family members lingering around me. I have disturbed the priest, please forgive me!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the White Crane Boy holding the soul-beating stick paused, and his terrifying vertical pupils stared at him up and down.

Before he could say anything, he suddenly heard a commotion in the distance, followed by the neighing of horses' hooves, and an officer on a horse shouted, "Military situation is urgent, everyone get out of the way!
The military situation is urgent, everyone please get out of the way!"

Three horses galloped into the city, galloping all the way. People made way for them wherever they passed, and the people surrounding the group also dispersed.

Chen Beimo vaguely saw the clash of two energies. When the horse-riding messenger shouted, the three mediums surrounding him shook their heads and moved away.

He took advantage of this opportunity and rushed into the chaotic crowd without thinking and fled towards the city gate.

There was a commotion on the street, with many people complaining that their goods had been knocked over by horses, or that someone had been bumped into by the crowd.

Chen Beimo felt his heart tremble for the first time. He desperately squeezed into the crowd and fled towards the west gate. When he was almost at the gate, he looked back.

In the crowd, the medium with white face and black stripes was standing on a high stool, standing out like a crane among chickens, with his vertical pupils looking down on all living beings like a god. But he suddenly turned his head and looked at him again. In an instant, it was as if it was the coldest day of the year, and Chen Beimo felt cold all over and was terrified even though he was in a noisy crowd.

He swallowed and ran out of the city at an even faster speed. He had no idea why these three mediums wanted to kill him, but he knew that he only had one life.

This official general's head is a kind of folk culture in the southeast coastal area. If you are interested, you can go and have a look. The two generals Zengshen only kill but not cross, stepping on the Seven Stars Zhenggang Step and holding the head of the Green-faced Ghost King.

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(End of this chapter)