Chapter 8: Origins and Background

Upon hearing the woman's shrill scream, Ermao turned over irritably. Ever since he could remember, the old man had been up to similar tricks, but the old man had a knack for always slipping away just in time, never getting caught.

Before long, the old man came back from the north, swaying unsteadily with a bundle of cattails in his hand. There were many mosquitoes in the summer nights, and this was something that could drive them away.

The next morning, the two of them set off again. The old man never sought his livelihood in county towns or villages; he always went to remote villages. According to him, there were already blacksmith shops in county towns and villages, and competing with them would just lead to trouble.

On this journey, Ermao pushed the unicycle cart quickly, for they were approaching the boundary of Laizhou. If the old man hadn't lied, Laizhou's Wanghai Village was where Ermao was born. Over the years, the old man had been very harsh on him—he had made him suffer a lot, both in terms of hardship and punishment. Because of this, Ermao had always suspected that he had been kidnapped by the old man. If he could get to Wanghai Village and confirm that the old man's story was true, then he would have to acknowledge that the old man had done him a great favor, and he should treat him better in the future.

Not far down the road, the sound of galloping hooves came from behind. Knowing that there were many people coming, the two of them quickly moved aside. Soon, seven or eight martial artists on horseback rushed past them and disappeared into the distance.

Around the time of Chen, the two of them encountered another group of people riding eastward. Their horses were also not ordinary, and they were in a hurry, looking anxious.

By noon, they encountered another group. In recent years, many cultivators and martial artists from various sects had formed their own schools in different parts of the Nine Provinces. The way they dressed was often different depending on the sect. Having traveled with the old man for many years, Ermao had learned to recognize these things. "These people look like they're from the Xuantian Sect of Yongzhou."

The old man, who was eating sour apricots he had picked by the roadside, nodded and clicked his tongue, "Yes."

"Yongzhou is several thousand miles away from here. What could they possibly be doing here?" Ermao was puzzled. Qingzhou was the easternmost province of the Great Xia, far from the Central Plains. People generally didn't come here unless there was something important to do.

"I don't know. Why don't you catch up with them and ask?" the old man casually suggested.

"Yesterday, I overheard those three people talking," Ermao said. "It seems they are going to the seaside to find something. Since we've already encountered three groups this morning, these people probably have the same destination."

"Wanghai Village is by the sea," the old man said, tossing an apricot into Ermao's mouth. "If they start fighting, we might get dragged into it. Maybe we should avoid going there."

Ermao, biting into the sour apricot, frowned and quickly spat it out. "Are you avoiding taking me to Wanghai Village because you've got something to hide?"

"I've got no secrets," the old man said smugly. "Your background is perfectly fine. You are from Wanghai Village, and your name is Li Ermao. No one will question it."

"Who would even bother checking on me?" Ermao asked, still confused.

"Stop asking questions. Hurry up, we're almost there," the old man changed the topic.

As they neared his birthplace, Ermao felt a surge of excitement, as if he had endless energy. He pushed the cart quickly, while the old man, with his lame leg, struggled to keep up and shouted for him to slow down.

In the afternoon, they crossed a ridge, and the refreshing sea breeze blew toward them.

When Ermao stopped to rest and enjoy the breeze, the old man came up from behind and pointed northeast. "See that village five miles away? That's Wanghai Village."

Following the direction of the old man's finger, Ermao saw the small village nestled at the foot of a mountain. The village wasn't large, with only about a hundred or so households. Behind it was a great mountain, and in front, the land flattened out with the vast sea stretching three miles beyond.

His hometown was right in front of him, and Ermao felt a great sense of excitement. He hurriedly ran with the cart.

The old man limped behind him. "Why are you running so fast? You don't even know where your parents are buried."

"They must know in the village," Ermao said, eager to get there.

By the time they reached the entrance to the village in the late afternoon, many villagers were gathered at the village entrance, enjoying the cool air.

Instead of rushing to take Ermao to visit his parents' graves, the old man had him set up a forge and arrange his tools, then urged him to shout out loudly to attract business.

Since Ermao was eight, he had been yelling to attract customers. At first, he was shy about speaking, but the old man had pressured him, saying it was for his own good. "A grown man can't be too proud to suffer, and he shouldn't shrink away when there are people around."

Wanghai Village was very remote, and rarely did blacksmiths come here. Once Ermao started shouting, a crowd quickly gathered—farm tools needed repairs, and knives needed sharpening.

As the villagers asked for the prices, the old man, who was usually very money-minded, unexpectedly said, "No charge. Whether it's forging or repairing, it's free."

The villagers, usually cautious about money, were stunned by this response.

Just then, the old man asked, "Do you remember Li Shuan Zhu from our village?"

"Shuan Zhu?" A woman replied, "Didn't he die a long time ago?"

"Yes," the old man said. "Many years ago, during a big storm, his house collapsed. His whole family—four... three people—died."

An old man recognized the old man. "Ah, I remember now. You're the one who took the little one from Shuan Zhu's family, right?"

"Yes, that's right," the old man laughed.

"It's been so many years. Have you changed jobs?" the old man asked.

"No choice, had to make a living," the old man replied.

Before the old man could introduce Ermao, a few village women gathered around him. "Ah, this is Ermao, he's all grown up now!"

Ermao had always been curious about his origins, but seeing this scene, he had no doubts anymore. He had traveled with the old man for as long as he could remember, and he had learned to talk in a way that pleased people. These women weren't strangers to him—they were either distant cousins or aunts from the village.

As the villagers spoke with Ermao, the old man listened carefully. He had once told Ermao about the time he had taken him away, but Ermao had always been skeptical. Now, hearing the villagers confirm what the old man had said—how, after the big storm, the villagers had rescued Ermao from the collapsed house, and the old man had offered to adopt him—Ermao could no longer doubt it.

Even though the villagers had been very detailed, Ermao still asked for more specifics. The villagers explained that he had been trapped under the house's beams and that several strong men had lifted the beams to free him.

By the time the story was over, the old man interrupted and told Ermao to get back to work, repairing tools for the villagers.

The old man didn't charge any money, and the villagers didn't hold back, bringing in all sorts of things that needed fixing.

Ermao, feeling relieved and in high spirits, worked tirelessly. The villagers, not wanting to take advantage, also brought some salted fish and seaweed as a gift.

They worked until evening, and by then, most of the villagers had left. Only two women remained near the stall. They were matchmakers and, seeing Ermao's handsome appearance, had taken an interest in finding him a wife.

When Ermao didn't respond, one of the matchmakers spoke up, "Why are you being shy? I used to carry you when you were a child, I remember your little backside..."

Before the matchmaker could finish, the old man hurriedly interrupted, "Hey, little sister, come over here and take a look. Do you need this vegetable knife?"