At dawn, everyone worked together to deal with the remaining Hellvine branches.
The Hellvine’s main trunk was about half a meter thick.
Because it had been scorched by fire, its main trunk extended outward for more than ten zhang, all appearing withered and lifeless.
However, the branches at the far ends were untouched and still vigorous.
Song Xian and the others used fire and blades to cut the main trunk and the finer branches, trimming them all to the same length.
The dormant branches were piled together, while the vigorous ones were stacked separately.
Each type served its own purpose and could be used as needed in the future.
“So many branches piled up look like firewood. I’ll build a shed for them later.”
“These Hellvine branches are impervious to knives and spears, afraid of rain? Leaving them as they are won’t hurt.”
From cutting to carrying, Song Luyuan had put in the most effort.
Song Xian felt sorry for his hard work and didn’t want him to do more.
“That won’t do. These are rare treasures and must be properly stored.”
Song Luyuan carefully stroked one of the thick Hellvine branches, his face practically pressed against it.
This was excellent material for making Divine Weapons, perfect for crafting many of his beloved Great Broadswords.
“Let him do it; he’s got endless strength.”
Song Hancheng handed Song Luyuan a large bowl of water.
Song Luyuan drank it all at once.
“But first, I need to head to the village to ask Chief Chen to make me a Wooden Sword for fun.”
He had already picked out a piece of Hellvine and couldn’t wait to see it shaped into a Great Broadsword.
Song Luyuan waved at the two of them and left.
“Wait.”
Song Xian quickly went inside and grabbed the Money Pouch, handing it to Song Luyuan.
“If it’s not enough, just talk to Chief Chen. I’ll repay him in a couple of days.”
Song Luyuan felt the heavy weight of the pouch in his hand and was momentarily stunned.
This money was all painstakingly earned by Song Xian, picking mushrooms one by one.
In Song Xian’s eyes, he wasn’t some martial arts master—just a curious kid wanting to learn swordsmanship, and making Wooden Swords was mostly for fun.
Yet, without a single complaint, he gave all the money he had earned to Song Luyuan to play with.
“No need.”
Song Luyuan awkwardly pushed the money back.
“You brat, how can you make someone work for nothing? Of course, you have to pay. Are you going to threaten Chief Chen with force again?”
Song Xian stared at him intently, his gaze pure and sincere, conveying one simple truth: be kind and honest.
Song Luyuan scratched his head irritably.
He understood—if he refused the money, his good “dad” would probably give him another long “heart-to-heart talk.”
“Alright, but I won’t need this much.”
He tried to take out just ten wen, but Song Xian stopped him.
“Keep it all. There’s also money for the wooden wedges; pay Chief Chen together.”
“Do you think he’ll accept it?”
Song Luyuan muttered as he walked away, clutching the pouch.
“What did you say?”
Song Xian didn’t hear clearly.
“Nothing.”
“Remember to be polite when meeting people and say goodbye properly when leaving!”
“Got it, you’re so naggy.”
The last words were very quiet, as if he were speaking to himself.
Song Xian turned around and saw Song Jimin and Song Hancheng sitting side by side on bamboo chairs. Another bamboo chair was placed opposite them, as if they were waiting for him to sit.
Song Xian carried over the freshly killed mountain chicken and sat down.
While skewering the chicken with a bamboo stick, he asked if the two brothers had something to say.
“Dad wants to abolish the Evil Custom of Steaming and Eating Children, right? We want to support him and help find a way!”
Song Jimin said enthusiastically, clenching his fist with determination.
Song Xian was momentarily stunned and met Song Jimin’s eyes.
The youngest son looked so obedient, his passionate eyes shining brightly like a beam of light that reached deep into his heart.
Suddenly, that familiar nausea surged up his throat, countless images flashing through his mind.
Children being sold in bamboo baskets at the market… babies kept in containers for experiments in the laboratory… one after another dying… failure after failure… rows of test tubes filled with red blood… long, sharp needles gleaming coldly…
Every time he thought of those unbearable childhood memories, Song Xian couldn’t help but feel physically sick.
“Dad, are you okay?”
Song Jimin’s fair little hand immediately held Song Xian’s arm and handed him a handkerchief.
Song Hancheng handed over a pack of sour plums, suggesting Song Xian try one to suppress the nausea.
After putting the sour plum in his mouth, Song Xian indeed felt much better.
“Maybe I caught a cold. My stomach feels queasy.”
Song Hancheng and Song Jimin nodded simultaneously, seemingly believing him, yet also somewhat doubtful.
Song Xian looked at his two sons, wanting to say something but unsure how, so he buried himself in skewering the chicken.
“I thought of a good way to abolish the custom!”
Song Jimin suddenly jumped up, eager to propose.
“I can write a story and spread it around, letting everyone know that eating children brings retribution—not longevity, but a miserable death.”
Song Xian nodded.
“That’s a good idea, but just verbal warnings aren’t strong enough. They can’t solve the root problem.”
Song Jimin puffed up his chest confidently.
“Don’t worry, it will definitely scare people.”
He didn’t mention the next step: whenever someone steamed their child, he’d have the second brother kill them, more and more, then spread the news.
Naturally, that would scare the ignorant villagers.
Song Hancheng also thought the scope of Song Jimin’s plan was too small and obvious in its shortcomings.
He proposed another:
“In Yongzhou Prefecture, the highest-ranking person is the Liang Prince, who only recently had a grandson at the age of forty. Soon will be the grandson’s hundred-day banquet. Why not plan to steal the Liang Prince’s grandson then, leaving a note that he will be steamed and eaten? The Liang Prince would be furious and issue an edict to punish this evil custom.”
“That’s a good idea, too, but it’s too risky. We’re just ordinary folks—how could we steal the Liang Prince’s grandson? Even if we succeeded, if caught, we’d all die.”
“No, no, I’ll never risk that with you guys. We’re all good kids; we won’t do anything illegal or harmful.”
Song Hancheng was naturally confident he could pull it off flawlessly, but he couldn’t say that out loud.
“Chen Feng’s bad customs are the hardest to change; only extreme methods work.”
“Dad, do you have a better way to solve this without risks or killing?”
“If you have, I’d really like to learn.”
Song Xian nodded mysteriously.
“Of course, but you’ll have to help a little.”
Song Hancheng and Song Luyuan exchanged glances, seeing strong interest reflected in each other’s eyes.
Song Xian beckoned the two sons closer.
“Tomorrow, we’ll do this and that…”
When Song Luyuan returned happily hugging his Great Broadsword, he found his eldest brother and youngest brother huddled, whispering.
Those two—one cunning and calculating, the other slippery and sly—whispering together meant no good.
Song Luyuan slowed his pace, ready to eavesdrop quietly—
“Old two’s back? Start frying!”
By the stove, Bai Ge tended the fire while Song Xian threw chicken coated with flour into the oil pot.
Sizzle—
Oil bubbles burst instantly, and in no time, the aroma of fried chicken wafted up with the smoke, like a soul-stealing enchantress.
Song Luyuan couldn’t resist and dashed over in just a few steps, abandoning whatever the brothers were plotting.
“So this is deep-frying? Smells amazing!”
“Look at these chicken legs, bubbling and golden—better than gold!”
After the first batch was done, Song Xian called the kids over to eat.
“Eat it while it’s hot so it stays crispy. It won’t taste as good later, but be careful not to burn yourselves.”
Song Hancheng and the other three carefully examined the fried chicken before putting it in their mouths.
Crunch!
So crispy!
Crisp on the outside, tender inside, full of fragrant oiliness—completely new to their experience.
Especially the crust—it was irresistible.
How could something taste this good?
The four sat around the ceramic basin on the ground, wishing they could eat the chicken without spitting out the bones, all enchanted by the aroma.
Song Xian soon brought over the second basin of fried chicken.
Among the four kids, Song Hancheng had the most refined manners.
But eating gracefully meant eating slowly, and he wouldn’t be able to get as much as the others.
So Song Xian reserved two chicken legs for him in a bowl, with a solid excuse so the other three wouldn’t complain.
“Your eldest brother earned Chief Changting’s favor and will get a bookkeeping position at the government office. This is a reward in advance.”
Song Hancheng sat elegantly, accepting the chicken legs.
At the same time, he discreetly pressed down the hem of his robe to hide the six pieces of fried chicken stashed beneath.
Grace always wins out.
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