Chương 43: Chapter 43
Li Qingyang, Lu Yan, and other disciples accepted their martial missions and headed to Qingyang Village to start looking for their targets.
"Ironbone Sect disciples?"
"Jun Changxiao, that pesky boy, when did he take in so many disciples?"
"Under the big banyan tree, there's a boy who looks like a girl, saying he's from the Ironbone Sect, writing letters for us for Zhao Xiucai."
Villagers in Qingyang Village gathered at the entrance, chatting animatedly.
Li Qingyang, sitting under the big tree, felt a pang of hurt at being described as a girl. In truth, he looked very sunny and manly, but the bright martial arts costume made him appear somewhat feminine.
Before long, a white-haired old woman with a cane walked slowly towards him.
"Grandma, do you want to write a letter?" Li Qingyang asked.
The old woman turned her ear sideways, "What did you say, dear?"
"I said, are you here to write a letter?" Li Qingyang repeated, louder.
The old woman still didn't hear clearly. She shook her thin hand, pointing to her ear, "I'm too old to hear well."
Frustrated, Li Qingyang wrote on a piece of paper, 'Are you here to write a letter?'
Just then, Xiao Sinji came down the path carrying two buckets of dung. Seeing Li Qingyang showing the old woman the paper, he almost stumbled.
"Second Brother, what's going on?" Xiao Sinji asked.
Li Qingyang, still holding the paper, replied, "Senior Brother, do you think she can read?"
Realizing his mistake, Li Qingyang smacked his head, "I forgot most villagers here are illiterate. She can't read even if I write it down."
Turning back to the old woman, he shouted, "Are you here to write a letter?"
This time, she heard and knocked her cane, "Dear, can't you speak quieter? You're about to make me deaf."
Li Qingyang slumped over the table in exasperation.
---
In a leaf-covered courtyard, Lu Yan stood gracefully like a water hibiscus, her hands glowing with a touch of spiritual power.
"Brush!"
With a gentle wrist movement, the bamboo broom in her hand snapped under the pressure.
"Why does it keep breaking?" she muttered, looking down at the pile of broken brooms at her feet.
"Auntie... miss..." Wang Dazhen, hiding nearby with a dustpan, said nervously, "Are you here to sweep or to destroy?"
"Hmph," Lu Yan threw the broken broom to the ground, "I said no, but the head insisted."
The thought of Jun Changxiao made Wang Dazhen exclaim, "That rascal, what does he mean by this?"
"Whoosh!"
Suddenly, waves of air swirled around as Lu Yan moved her hands, causing the leaves to gather and form a pile.
"That's much better than a broom," she remarked, casting a cold glance. "Hey, where should I throw this garbage?"
"Out... outside the door..." Wang Dazhen pointed quickly.
"Brush!"
Lu Yan moved gracefully, almost dancing as she guided the leaves out of the courtyard with a wave of her hand.
"Thump."
Su Xiaomo, searching for Xiao Huang in the village, passed by and was hit by the pile of leaves and branches falling on his head.
"Hahaha!"
Other disciples, busy with their tasks, laughed at the sight of Su Xiaomo covered in leaves.
"Move aside, move aside!" Xiao Sinji, carrying the dung, hurried down the path. The buckets swung wildly, splashing dung everywhere.
"Haha!" Su Xiaomo laughed harder, seeing dung splattered on the faces of two fellow disciples.
Reaching the flat ground, Xiao Sinji stabilized the buckets and sheepishly looked back, "Sorry, brothers..."
"Whoosh!"
The two dung-covered disciples, with eyes glowing red, charged at him.
Xiao Sinji, realizing his mistake, fled immediately.
"Don't let him get away!"
The two disciples chased after him, dung in hand, slapping it on his face and laughing, "Gotcha."
"Hahaha," Su Xiaomo was in tears from laughing so hard.
"Thud!" A fresh pile of leaves hit his head, making him roll his eyes and collapse.
---
Qingyang Village, with its few hundred residents, mostly had older folks and children, as the young people went out to work. The disciples' arrival and their house-to-house task completion brought the village to life.
Gradually, the villagers understood that Jun Changxiao had sent his disciples to help voluntarily, and they happily accepted.
"Mr. Li, I need a letter written," a 70-year-old man said, smiling, "To my grandson in the town, telling him to study hard and not just play."
Li Qingyang nodded and began writing.
Within hours, he had written letters for five villagers. They wrote to their sons, relatives in the countryside, mostly simple family updates.
Li Qingyang thought to himself, "I get it now. The head wants me to listen to their hearts, to understand their feelings."
---
"Smack!"
In the courtyard, Lu Yan clapped her hands, "That's enough."
The ground was spotless, much cleaner than it would have been with a broom.
Wang Dazhen, paralyzed at the door, was in tears. The courtyard was clean, but the big tree was now bare, and the vegetable garden was uprooted.
"Do you need help inside the house?" Lu Yan asked.
"No, no!" Wang Dazhen jumped up, guarding the door, "I'll handle the inside myself, no need to trouble you."
"No," Lu Yan insisted, "The head said to help with housework."
Ignoring the protests, she stepped inside. Immediately, the sounds of crashing and clattering filled the hall.
"Ah!" Wang Dazhen, clutching her head, shouted, "You rascal, did you send her to torture me on purpose?"
---
Dusk arrived.
In the hall, Jun Changxiao pinched his nose, "You all smell like chicken dung! Go bathe!"
"Brush! Brush!"
Xiao Sinji and the others vanished instantly.
"Head, the disciples completed their tasks well today," Li Qingyang reported.
"Why is your voice hoarse?" Jun Changxiao asked.
Li Qingyang almost cried, "All the clients were elderly grandmothers, none could hear well."
"Sigh," Jun Changxiao patted his shoulder, "It's tough."
"By the way, where's Lu Yan?" he asked, looking around.
"Boom! Boom!"
Suddenly, the ground shook.
Jun Changxiao looked up, dust falling from the beams, "An earthquake?"
"Rascal, get out here!"
A roar came from outside the hall.
"Wang Dazhen?" Jun Changxiao hurried outside but stopped abruptly, clinging to the doorframe in fear.
On the stage, Wang Dazhen stood, a kitchen knife in one hand and a rolling pin in the other, shaking the ground with each step.
"Head," Lu Yan said lightly from the corner, "She insisted on coming to thank you, and I couldn't stop her."
"Gulp."
Jun Changxiao swallowed hard, "Aunt Wang, there's a misunderstanding... Ah, Wang Aunt, don't kill me!"
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