Chapter Thirty-Six: A Simple and Honest Folk

The cultivators moved swiftly, and before long, they arrived at Baixi Village. Upon reaching the entrance, Yang Cheng and his companions saw children playing and villagers working in the fields. They circled the village and observed that the houses were built according to the terrain, densely packed, with about three to four hundred households. The people here were honest and lived a simple life, rising at dawn and resting at sunset. As long as no monster beasts or bandits disturbed them, this place could be considered a little paradise.

After their circuit, the group sought directions from the villagers, who welcomed them warmly and personally led them to the clan chief’s house in no time.

The clan chief was an elderly man with white hair. Hearing that these visitors were merchants from the city, he greeted them with great enthusiasm, eagerly introducing the village. Baixi Village, he said, did not have any remarkable specialty except for their exceptional skill in taming beasts. The villagers often traveled out to exchange beast meat and hides for necessities, but the roads could be dangerous, with occasional bandits and murderers, making safe passage hard to guarantee. For businessmen to come all the way here was a rare and welcome event.

Baixi Village had over four hundred households, living mainly by farming, and could largely sustain themselves. Only certain daily goods and textiles needed to be bought in town, traded for with grain and the meat or hides of the spotted beasts. These creatures resembled the cattle Yang Cheng had seen before, but with long tusks, greater size, and thick hides with plenty of meat. Though the spotted beasts were fiercely aggressive, generations of the villagers had experimented and succeeded in taming them. Now each household could raise two or three of them.

One spotted beast could yield over sixteen or seventeen hundred jin of meat. However, since the city offered a wide variety of beast meats, these were not considered rare, and trade volume was minimal—they were used mostly for the villagers’ own needs.

Yang Cheng expressed to the clan chief his desire to cooperate with Baixi Village on a large business deal, though he needed to investigate further, having only arrived that morning and taken a cursory look. The old chief was thrilled and arranged accommodation for Yang Cheng and his companions. He personally led them around the homes and courtyards to thoroughly inspect the spotted beasts, observing their growth, meat quality, and milk yield.

After visiting several homes, the group reached a secluded area. From within a detached courtyard came the sound of elegant zither music, immediately piquing Yang Cheng’s curiosity. The village houses were usually simple and practical, but this courtyard, though unadorned, was refined, built among a grove of bamboo. Looking through the open gate, he saw a small pond with lotus leaves, beside which an elderly man with a long beard played the zither in leisure, exuding an air of serene contentment.

The music ranged from cheerful and lively, like pearls dropping onto a jade platter, to urgent and metallic, as if weapons clashed in battle. In the end, the melody grew gentle and soulful, resonating deeply before fading into calm.

This elder’s bearing was extraordinary, nothing like the local farmers. Not wanting to disturb him, Yang Cheng quietly asked the clan chief for more information.

The clan chief said, “We only know that this old man’s surname is Chu, and the villagers call him Mr. Chu. Years ago, a group of armored men came here and frightened everyone, but they didn’t harm us. They simply settled this old man in the village and never returned.”

Yang Cheng exchanged a glance with Lu Baichuan, both understanding at once. Though Mr. Chu carried himself with distinction, it was clear he was weak. Leaving him alone in the village, surrounded by bandits and wild beasts, without any guards, was tantamount to confining him here, drawing a line in the earth to make this place his prison, leaving him to wither away.

The clan chief continued, “All these years, Mr. Chu has kept to himself and gets along well with the villagers. He helps write things for them but isn’t fit for labor. The kind villagers often help him with grain and daily needs.”

Yang Cheng nodded, deciding it best not to meddle in affairs he did not understand and praised the villagers’ kindness. The clan chief smiled, stroking his beard, and said, “Shall we continue? If we climb that hill, we’ll have a view over the whole village. Would you like to go on?”

Yang Cheng had seen enough and already understood the situation—Baixi Village was well suited for large-scale animal husbandry. But since he was already out and had time, he agreed to keep exploring. The clan chief, being elderly and frail, was sent home with two guards, while the rest continued climbing.

Soon, they reached the mountaintop. Looking down, they saw the village shrouded in cooking smoke, fields in varying shades of green and gold—an earthly paradise. As Yang Cheng was enjoying the view, he overheard Murong Tie discussing with his companions. He turned to look in the direction Murong pointed and saw, in the distance, a gorge shaped like a giant gourd, its two bulging sections connected, with narrow passes at each end resembling the spouts of a teapot.

Having participated in many battles, Murong Tie understood terrain. He praised the gorge as easy to defend and hard to attack, suitable for stationing troops, though its remoteness and the cost and risk of building there made it unattractive for families to occupy. Nor would the sects be interested, as it wasn’t a land rich in spiritual energy.

Yang Cheng, not understanding such things, merely glanced and thought little of it.

That evening at the clan chief’s house, representatives of Baixi Village gathered to discuss cooperation with Yang Cheng.

Yang Cheng proposed several points: First, Baixi villagers should select suitable male spotted beasts from their own stock to be used for meat. Any household with eligible animals could contribute as many as they had, with all meat and hides belonging to Yang Cheng. He would pay two hundred silver coins per beast—equivalent to two spirit coins—with the villagers responsible for raising the animals. The clan chief would coordinate which households’ beasts would be slaughtered each day to ensure a steady supply.

The villagers had no objections. The market price for the meat was not that high, and they could not sell much on their own in a year.

Second, the milk from female spotted beasts would be collected by the villagers in standard-sized wooden buckets, paid at one silver coin for every ten jin.

Beast milk was abundant but of little value, used mainly to feed their own children. The chance to earn money from it was naturally welcome.

Finally, Yang Cheng requested that the clan chief and the villagers agree to increase their herds. They could not slaughter all the animals this year and have nothing to offer the next. Supply must at least double year by year until Yang Cheng set a limit.

Given the risks of travel, Yang Cheng would also handle the security for transport. The villagers would help with loading and unloading, while the Yang family’s guards provided protection. Arrangements would even be made for villagers to stay in the city when delivering goods, making it easier for them to shop for necessities before returning with the next escort.

The clan chief and the representatives agreed without hesitation. It was an excellent arrangement, well within their capabilities, and there was no reason to refuse.

In this way, Yang Cheng opened up a new avenue for his business, turning the spotted beast into a valuable resource. Besides supplying his own household, he could now venture into producing dried meat and other preserved foods—a veritable treasure indeed.