[HIATUS + UNPUBLISHED FOR EDITING] When apathetic, famished Tuhu, the "butcher" who served in the warlord Wu De's army, becomes a monk, all he wants is a warm bowl of congee. The last thing he expects is to fall into a crack and land in Hell during...
[number] refers to the corresponding Footnotes item at the bottom of each part, which provides additional information that is not directly related to the plot. So, feel free to read them after! - Dawn
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The Yuan Village Landlord's first and only wife prostrated before Jian Xiaoren. Her thick gold bracelets clanked against cold stones with each kowtow, and her pearl earrings swung with each sob. [1, 2, 3]
"I beg you, lords. Please spare my daughter!" she wailed. "She is but a five-year-old child."
The daughter was standing within arm's reach from Tuhu [4], trembling and breathing heavily. She was so small and slim that her white qipao [5] reminded him of the garments on the larger porcelain dolls he had seen during his rare visits to the city. Short, ebony curls clung to the sweat on her forehead while tears soaked her lashes. Her gaze never wavered from her father's battered and bloodied corpse lying beside her mother.
Xiaoren spat on the head of the dead Landlord.
"Don't try to make us look bad, woman. We are honorable men." He then added the rehearsed line, eyes glinting with glee, "We are simply here to collect the debt that aristocrats like your husband owe the people."
"Debt?" The woman seemed genuinely confused. "Forgive this woman's ignorance. Which debt is this lord speaking of?"
"Stop pretending. We know everything," he replied, stressing on the last word. "The peasant children he starved as your family feasted on lavish dinners and the poor servants he exploited with unfair contracts."
"No, no..." The woman shook her head vehemently. "Our people love us! We've always been fair. None of them is starving."
"Bullshit!" Xiaoren snarled, making the woman jump. He wiped off blood from the stolen sword that he had used to cut down some rickshaw coolie in the streets; he had told Tuhu that the man was an eyesore since he ran "as slowly as a man with a lame leg". "Unfortunately, Xiaoren added in a calmer tone, since my brothers [6] had a little too much fun with your husband, he won't see to the end of your retribution. But you will."
Xiaoren finally motioned to Tuhu, who had been standing idle.
As he approached the quaking child, the mother screamed again, "No! Please have mercy on her!"
With the same deft and strength that Tuhu had used to cut pig ribs, he raised his large meat cleaver in the air and brought it down on the neck of his target. The recently sharpened blade cut through flesh and bones as if they were tofu.
The little curly head fell with a thud. It rolled from the momentum, leaving a bloody trail across the courtyard, then stopped against a young peach tree. The delicate body crumpled to the ground, and crimson spread across white fabric,like ink spilled on rice paper.
Once, after they had invaded an enemy village, General Wu De [7] had praised Tuhu for his ability to free the largest amount of souls from their mortal coils without a single bullet. "Efficient," he had observed after he had watched his man separate countless heads from their bodies.
