Asumu

Translator: Cinder Translations

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The tall, muscular man had a determined expression, his large frame almost completely blocking the village chief behind him.

In a normal fight, even three or five ordinary people would not be his match. But unfortunately, his opponent this time was a ghost.

A strange existence that he could not understand at all.

It seemed that the ghost was also deep in thought, not attacking immediately.

"Village chief," the tall man stared intensely at the distorted figure, his voice low and hoarse. "How are you?"

His hand, gripping the wooden stick, trembled slightly. It seemed the tall man wasn't as calm as he appeared; he had been stunned when the ghost appeared suddenly.

It wasn't until the ghost made a move toward the village chief that he snapped back to his senses.

The village chief, who had a moment to catch his breath, seemed to regain some clarity. His eyes flickered with light. "Asumu!" he gasped. "Why are you here? Hurry and leave!"

The tall man named Asumu did not move. He gripped the stick even tighter.

"You are different from us!" the village chief urged urgently. "You don't have blood on your hands! Hurry and go!"

"I told you to go!!"

Even though the village chief weakly lifted his arm to push him away a few times, Asumu still didn't move. Instead, he pressed his back against the village chief and pushed him toward the stairs.

"Asumu!" the village chief shouted. "If you keep doing this, none of us will get out! She won't let me go! Your mother was right before she died. Changsheng Tian remembers every debt. Sooner or later, someone will have to repay it!"

With blood-red eyes, the ghost coldly stared at the two, and unusually, it did not act immediately. Instead, it watched as Asumu pushed the village chief to the stairs.

And then, in the next moment, the calm was shattered.

The twisted figure lunged toward them, and in that instant, Asumu shoved the village chief down the stairs. He then raised the wooden stick and charged toward the figure.

"Go!" Asumu shouted.

One figure, a thin, blurry shape about 1.5 meters tall, and the other, a muscular man over 2 meters tall swinging a wooden stick. The village chief stumbled and fell down the stairs.

Victory and defeat came in an instant.

The world before Asumu's eyes blurred. Then, he saw a headless body holding a wooden stick collapse with a "boom."

His vision began to fade.

"Drip! Drip!"

The twisted figure stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at the elderly man sitting at the bottom.

The old man's silver hair was tangled, and his eyes lost their last glimmer of life. He stared at the ghost's hand, muttering, "Asumu."

The twisted figure released its grip, and a huge human head rolled down the stairs, finally stopping at the old man's feet with a thud.

The head came to a halt.

A pair of determined eyes opened wide, gazing sideways at the village chief. His mouth was open, as though trying to finish the words he had not managed to say.

The old man stretched out a trembling hand and, with great difficulty, gathered the head into his arms, holding it tightly as if guarding a precious treasure. "Asumu," the old man cried, tears streaming down his face.

In his eyes, this silent, strong man was his fourth son, even closer than his own three biological sons.

The other three sons were more concerned with gaining favor and secretly wished that he would die sooner so they could inherit the position of village chief.

Only this foolish child stayed by his side, silent and always content with just a meal. He was stronger than any beast of burden, his strength greater than that of a mule.

When grinding soybeans in the late autumn, Asumu could pull the huge stone grinder by himself, so they didn't even need to borrow a donkey from the neighboring village.

He never slacked off, never complained.

He had grown up before the old man's eyes, just like his mother, neither from the village, but both from far-off grasslands, supposedly fleeing from disaster.

Along the way, his mother accidentally stepped on a hunter's trap in the mountains, and it wasn't until the next day that the village's old hunter found her.

Beside the unconscious woman, apart from the child Asumu, there was a wolf's carcass.

The wolf had followed the scent of blood.

They were highly intelligent and knew where the traps were. Often, when hunters checked the traps, they would find only the severed limbs of animals.

The old hunter could only judge from the tracks that the prey had likely been intercepted by the wolves.

But this time, the wolf had miscalculated. It had underestimated the combat ability of the 10-year-old child, and the wolf was eventually strangled to death.

Looking at this clear-eyed child, the village chief felt rare sympathy and decided to take him in.

Asumu's mother passed away not long after, and the village's barefoot doctor said it was due to the suffering she endured on the journey, which had ruined her health.

As Asumu grew up, the villagers couldn't help but marvel at how the men from the grasslands were stronger and more formidable than those from the mountains. Even before reaching adulthood, Asumu was already 1.9 meters tall.

No one in the village could match his strength.

The village chief's oldest son, who was the most combative, once became annoyed with Asumu after drinking and, coincidentally, joined in with a group of local troublemakers. Drunk, he tried to teach Asumu a lesson.

Asumu simply avoided him. If he couldn't dodge, he took a few hits but never fought back or insulted anyone.

When the village chief returned from town and saw Asumu's injuries, he felt heartbroken and almost shed tears. He then told Asumu not to tolerate the oldest son anymore.

But Asumu, being a straightforward person, single-handedly lifted the village chief's oldest son and tossed him into the pigpen.

This made the village chief worry even more for several days.

The oldest son spent four months bedridden before he dared to get out of bed. From then on, he developed a problem of cramps whenever he saw Asumu's calves, a condition that remained with him even after he had children.

But Asumu didn't hold grudges. He treated everyone the same, though he was always kindest to the village chief.

The men in the village whispered that the only reason the village chief managed to hold his position was because of Asumu.

The village chief's sons thought it was because of their own talents.

"Asumu," the village chief, often drunk, would call Asumu for a heart-to-heart talk, smiling as he asked what kind of woman he liked so he could help him when they tried to deceive women into coming to the village.

Kill the men, keep a few of the women—this was a business they knew well.

But Asumu always shook his head. After a few rounds of drinking, he would even try to persuade the village chief to stop doing such things, which made their drinking sessions uncomfortable.

It always ended with the village chief giving up, putting on his clothes, and going to sleep.

Logically, Asumu, strong and good-looking, should have attracted women, but the problem was that they were in Xiao Shijian Village, where there was a past. No woman within dozens of kilometers of the village wanted to marry a man from here.

Not even widows would come.

Business dealings were fine, but when it came to marriage, there wasn't a single door open.

Over time, this delay continued, and the village chief, caressing Asumu's face, seemed to be lost in a trance.

(End of the Chapter)

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