The deep winter had arrived.

The north wind was like a whetted blade, scraping across the bare treetops, emitting mournful howls. The end of the year was approaching, yet Su Family Village was permeated with an oppressive atmosphere unlike any previous year.

The papermaking workshop at the village center, however, was bustling with activity. Its scale had doubled compared to three months ago. The newly built chimney spewed white steam all day long, and the smell of alkali water and bamboo pulp was so thick it enveloped most of the village, as if soaking the entire settlement in a kind of metallic-tinged vitality. As the year-end approached, the volume of goods shipped out had multiplied.

The over twenty newly hired men made the workshop shed feel cramped and overcrowded. They worked diligently, their clothes soaked with sweat, but their eyes lacked the reverence of the earliest batch of workers, replaced instead by poorly concealed calculation and ambition.

Su Ming walked through the workshop shed, carrying a stack of freshly calculated account books. Several of the new villagers huddled together, whispering in low voices. When they saw him pass by, they immediately fell silent, their gazes falling upon him in unison, as if weighing a valuable object. Su Ming’s expression remained unchanged as he walked past with steady steps.

Lin Yu spoke lazily in his mind, “Disciple, see that? This is human nature. The first batch of people got to eat meat, and they were grateful. This second batch came smelling the meat. They’ll only complain about getting too little, and might even wonder why they aren’t the ones dividing up the pot of meat.” His voice held a trace of weariness that was hard to detect. During this period, he had been desperately suppressing that latent Ghost Lantern power, and now he had finally achieved considerable success, able to relax a little.

“This disciple understands,” Su Ming responded in his heart.

“Good that you understand. Don’t meddle in matters that aren’t your concern,” Lin Yu advised. “Since Village Chief Zhao Dequan dares to hire so openly, he has his own methods. We just need to watch and wait.”

When the account books were delivered to Zhao Dequan, he was leisurely polishing his ever-present pipe with a soft cloth. With the New Year approaching, he was dressed more formally than usual, his dark cotton robe starched and impeccable.

“Uncle Zhao, these are the accounts up to the twentieth day of the twelfth lunar month. A total of thirty-eight thousand sheets of paper were produced. As you instructed, fifteen thousand were sold piecemeal, and the remainder have been stored in the warehouse, waiting for the merchants to collect them after spring arrives,” Su Ming reported.

Zhao Dequan gave a noncommittal “Hmm,” took the account books, but didn’t open them, casually setting them aside instead. He lifted his eyelids, his gaze pausing on Su Ming’s face. Those deep-set eyes seemed capable of seeing through a person’s heart. “There’s been… quite a bit of idle talk in the village lately, hasn’t there?”

Su Ming’s heart tightened slightly. He replied, “There have been some discussions. Mostly about the workshop.”

“Hmph, more than just discussions,” Zhao Dequan snorted coldly, tapping his pipe against the corner of the table with deliberate force, producing a dull thud. “Some people have stretched their hands too far, and their hearts have grown too wild.”

Su Ming recalled earlier at the village entrance, catching a glimpse of Su Lai huddled furtively with a few of the new villagers. They had scattered immediately upon seeing him approach. Su Lai’s triangular eyes had been gleaming with malicious intent, like a venomous snake hiding in the shadows.

He hesitated for a moment, then spoke up, “Uncle Zhao, I saw Su Lai earlier…”

“No need to say more,” Zhao Dequan interrupted with a wave of his hand, his tone flat yet bone-chillingly cold. “A stray dog that only knows how to scurry in the gutters, can it really overturn the heavens? The more he jumps around, the faster he’ll die.”

He picked up his pipe again, slowly packing it with tobacco shreds. His movements were steady, without a trace of agitation. “You’re still young. Don’t concern yourself with these matters. Your duty is to study the Sage’s Books well, keep the accounts clear, and provide technical guidance. As for other matters, even if the sky falls, I’ll be the one holding it up.”

Su Ming acknowledged the instruction and left.

The cold wind hit his face, making him shiver, but the unease in his heart did not dissipate. The festive atmosphere of the New Year seemed unable to dispel the oppressive feeling of an impending storm.

At night, the small earthen house of the Su family exceptionally lit two oil lamps. The dim, yellowish halos added a touch of warmth to this impoverished home.

One lamp was in the main room, where Mrs. Su Chen was using the light to hurriedly sew new clothes for the family. She hummed a tuneless little ditty, and the movement of her needle and thread carried the anticipation of the approaching New Year—the simplest happiness of ordinary folk.

The other lamp was in Su Ming’s room. The dim, yellowish halo illuminated his delicate profile, making its contours distinct. A book lay open before him, but his mind was no longer on its pages.

“Master, can Uncle Zhao… really suppress those people?” Su Ming asked in his heart. “The village is like a pot of boiling water right now. I’m afraid the lid will be forced off sooner or later.”

“And if it is forced off, what does that have to do with you?” Lin Yu’s tone was teasing. “Have you truly come to see yourself as the savior of Su Family Village?”

Su Ming was at a loss for words. “I…”

“Disciple, this master asks you, what has allowed Zhao Dequan to sit firmly in his position?”

Su Ming pondered for a moment before answering, “It’s his prestige, and also… profit.”

“Correct, it’s profit,” Lin Yu’s voice turned more serious. “He can gather people’s hearts with profit, and naturally, he also has harsher methods to deal with those who are restless. This is his ship, carrying the wealth and status of his Zhao family. He fears this ship capsizing more than anyone.”

Su Ming fell silent.

“Therefore, what you need to learn is not to help him steer the ship, nor is it to think about patching it up,” Lin Yu spoke word by word, imprinting them into Su Ming’s mind like a seal. “What you need to learn is to find yourself a plank that can keep you afloat before this ship capsizes.”

Su Ming closed his eyes and concentrated, thinking no more. Following the method taught by his master in the Aura Concealment Art, he gradually slowed his breathing, sinking his mind into the faint point of light within his body’s dantian. Then, he extended his perception outward like a spider’s web.

He tried to imagine himself as a drop of water, merging into the earthen bed beneath him; transforming into a wisp of smoke, dissipating into the air of the room.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when a mysterious sensation surfaced.

He “heard.”

Not with his ears, but a direct perception originating from his mind.

He “heard” the steady, long snores of his father, Su Shan, next door. They carried the rhythm of an old ox pulling a cart, as if he could feel the rise and fall of the airflow within his father’s lungs.

He “heard” the faint, rustling sound of his mother threading a needle in the main room. He could even “feel” the slight resistance as the needle tip pierced the cotton cloth and the subtle friction of the fabric fibers.

He slowly spread his “web” further.

In the courtyard, the old yellow dog was curled up asleep in its kennel, its tail twitching unconsciously. Even the whimpering sounds from its dreams were clearly audible.

In Widow Li’s house to the east, her son was mumbling incoherently in his sleep. The words were unclear, but they carried the childish nasal tone of a child.

At this moment, the entire Su Family Village seemed to transform into a world woven from countless subtle sounds and breaths, presenting itself clearly and three-dimensionally in his mind.

It was then that a furtive figure collided with his “web.”

The footsteps were extremely light, deliberately slowed, each step landing in the shadows at the base of walls, avoiding the moonlight, like a rat moving at night.

It was Su Lai!

Su Ming’s mind tightened.

He “saw” Su Lai creeping close to the wall like a gecko, sneaking all the way to the corner behind the workshop where waste materials were piled—indeed the most poorly guarded spot.

Su Lai stopped, looking around in all directions. Then, he pulled something from his bosom.

It was a fire starter.

He wanted to set a fire!

Just as Su Ming was about to act, he suddenly sensed another presence. Two burly men silently emerged from the shadows. Their movements were crisp and efficient. One covered Su Lai’s mouth and twisted his arms behind his back, while the other swiftly snatched the fire starter away. The entire process took no more than a breath. Su Lai couldn’t even utter a single whimper before being dragged into deeper darkness, vanishing without another sound.

A gust of cold wind swept by, stirring up a few dry leaves, as if nothing had ever happened. Only a faint trace of blood lingered in the air for an instant before disappearing.

Su Ming slowly opened his eyes, a chill running down his spine. He knew that Su Lai, that “stray dog,” had already vanished without a trace. Zhao Dequan’s methods were far more decisive, and far more ruthless, than he had imagined.

Beneath the festive joy of the New Year, the undercurrents in Su Family Village had never ceased. Instead, they grew more turbulent and unfathomable.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep