“Boss, why are you walking us home?” a little boy asked Ling Huan, who was following behind them.
His tone was filled with puzzled questions.
The other children were equally confused.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s not like we don’t know the way.”
“Boss, do you think we’re little kids? We’re already practically grown-ups!”
“Exactly! Exactly!”
A chorus of agreement followed, but Ling Huan just smiled silently behind them.
He couldn’t very well say, “I’m afraid you might get kidnapped,” right?
That would be too unlucky.
Inside Qingmu City ( Or Aoki City), things were fine, but outside the city, in this wild countryside—who knew how many villains might be lurking out here in this feudal society?
He never wanted the tragedy that befell Yin Luoling to happen to these children.
Alright, alright, what’s wrong with walking a bit of the way home together anyway?
Ling Huan thought so, but suddenly he felt a strong gaze coming from behind him.
He spun around, looking into the depths of the dense forest, but saw nothing.
Was it just his imagination?
Or was it just the wind rustling through the forest?
Ah, suddenly one of the kids couldn’t hold back and shouted, “Oh no! The amulet you made for me—I forgot to bring it back! It’s still by the river, on a rock on the riverbed!”
The boy who spoke was called Yan Qing.
He was small and skinny, with his skin clinging tightly to his bones.
Now that his shirt was off, he looked even more frail.
But he was full of energy.
Even now, in early spring, with the sun only just breaking through the winter chill and the water still far from warm, he could still lively jump into the river to catch fish and swim.
Warming up by the fire on the shore while roasting fish was good, but it seemed Yan Qing rarely needed the fire—he was practically the war god of resisting the cold.
“Should I go back with you? Or maybe we can all go together. After all, it’s not very safe in the wild,” Ling Huan suggested.
“No need, Boss,” Yan Qing refused neatly.
“I’ll go get it myself. You guys wait here for me a bit, or you can head back first, it’s fine.That little path is kind of hard to walk on. It’s probably easier if I go alone. If you’re really worried, Boss, just wait for me here—anyway, it’s only a few minutes.”
The children didn’t say much, but they were clearly tired.
One by one, they squatted by the roadside, not looking like they wanted to go anywhere.
Ling Huan thought for a moment and decided that was reasonable.
It would only be a few minutes, after all.
What could happen in just a few minutes?
There were no wild animals around here—the guards of Qingmu City ( Or Aoki City) had cleared them all out, and even now there were plenty of hunters in the area.
“Alright then, let’s rest here and wait for you.”
Ling Huan made the decision.
Since everyone was tired from playing, waiting a while didn’t matter.
He looked around at the children.
No one objected; they all nodded, clearly too tired to even talk anymore.
“Okay.”
Yan Qing nodded, then ran off toward the dense woods.
Ling Huan sat down on the ground, not caring about whether his clothes would get dirty, and started chatting idly with the children—about family, about when they would start school.
But the answer he got was, unexpectedly, not really a surprise—school was too expensive.
The children all said, “Our families can’t afford it. The private schools are too costly, and no teachers in Aoki City are willing to teach for free.”
Most of them were illiterate and planned to follow in their family’s footsteps—farming, weaving, blacksmithing.
That would be their whole lives.
To them, this was just the way of things.
Ling Huan asked if they wanted to learn to read and write.
Their first response was, “What’s the use of studying? What good is it to know how to read?”
Their questions stumped Ling Huan.
True—what did studying mean to them?
To pass the imperial exam, become an official?
That was the only thing Ling Huan could think of.
But there were so many scholars in the world, so many taking the exams—how many could actually become officials?
And before they could succeed, their families really couldn’t afford that much money.
In this society, if you had no money, you truly couldn’t study.
But he could tell there were a few particularly smart kids among them.
They didn’t know how to read, but their memories were sharp.
When he taught them a game, they’d learn it after hearing it once and could even come up with variations, sometimes playing even better than him.
If they could study, they’d surely accomplish something big.
What if he sponsored them?
He had the system, so he’d never be short on money.
Plus, with how much spirit stones were worth in the mortal world, one stone would last them a long time.
If they really succeeded in the exams, their gratitude would be a great help to his family.
Even if they didn’t make it, giving away a stone or two meant nothing to him.
And if, by chance, they ever struck it rich, wouldn’t that be great for him?
Or if they had some stroke of luck—he’d be set, with another powerful connection.
Isn’t that what you call an angel investor?
Plus, if the system ever went crazy and made him do something truly outrageous, these big officials and nobles might even help him out, haha.
Becoming a person with connections was the most satisfying thing in the cultivation world!
But most importantly, Ling Huan didn’t want their talent to go to waste.
It was painful to see talented people with no chance to show it.
And even if they didn’t become high officials, being an advisor or strategist was still great.
Of course, all of this would depend on them.
So Ling Huan asked for the children’s opinions and explained in detail the benefits of learning to read and write.
Of course, he was just a modern guy who had transmigrated here and didn’t really know much more about the system than the kids did.
But at least he could offer them a broader perspective.
The children thought about it, but not many of them were willing in the end.
How about if I find a teacher willing to teach you all to read and write for free?
Would you want to study then?
Of course, I’ll also find a way to persuade your parents.
The children hesitated for a while—well, seriously considered it—and slowly raised their hands.
Though not many raised their hands, there were at least a few.
It was impossible to convince everyone at once, and it wasn’t realistic to promote this idea to everyone right away.
What he needed was to get it started, then let it spread gradually.
Those who benefited would naturally spread the word for him.
One child asked curiously, “Boss, why are you doing these thankless things? Isn’t studying expensive?”
Facing this question, Ling Huan thought for a bit.
He couldn’t exactly tell them he wanted to invest in them so they could succeed and work for him in the future.
That would sound too low-class.
So he grinned and said, “I’m your boss. Of course I should do things for you. And besides, I have a dream.”
“A dream?” someone asked.
“My dream is to become a sage—a sage praised by everyone. So I want all of you to be able to study, then spread my good name far and wide, so the whole world knows I’m a great person, a worthy boss. If you follow me, you’ll live the good life, eating well and drinking well under my leadership.”
As he spoke, Ling Huan gave the child a thumbs up and winked, half-joking as he answered.
“Of course, if you run into trouble, you can tell me, your boss. I’ll help if I can.”
That much was certain.
These children doubted everything—they wondered if studying was useful, wondered if learning to read would help their future.
But there was one thing they didn’t doubt: that Ling Huan would help them.
After all, which one of them hadn’t been helped by Ling Huan?
From chasing away their boredom to helping their parents put food on the table, everyone held Ling Huan in their hearts.
If anything, the title “Boss” was something they truly meant from the heart.
At this moment, Ling Huan had no idea that this little joke of his was already deeply engraved in the children’s hearts.
Now, Ling Huan realized that Yan Qing had been gone for quite a while.
Although Yan Qing was small, he ran fast.
It had already been almost two or three minutes.
He should be back by now—that kid was always full of energy, never seemed to tire.
Ling Huan found it odd.
He said to the children, “You all wait here. I’ll go check on Yan Qing, see if he ran into any trouble.”
The children nodded and continued to rest where they were.
Ling Huan walked into the forest and soon arrived at the spot where they had been playing.
On the gray pebbles of the riverbed, the campfire was burned out, fish bones lay scattered, but now on the gray ground, there was a color that shouldn’t be there—so glaringly out of place.
And there was an adult who should never have been here.
The man was dressed in black, tall and slender, without a mask, turning slowly around. His hands were stained bright red.
At a glance, Ling Huan recognized who he was, and saw that vivid red on his hands.
Ling Huan’s pupils shrank sharply.
It was that man from the Flowing Cloud Pavilion, the one he had humiliated…?
“It’s you!?”
Ling Huan’s voice was hoarse and cracking.
“You’re from the Flowing Cloud Pavilion? Where’s Yan Qing? The child who was here just now—”
The question froze in his throat.
Among the riverbank stones, a gray shirt was half-caught on a rock, soaked by the current.
From the torn hole at the collar, crimson was steadily seeping out, staining the stones mottled red.
The answer was clear as day.