A small, thin boy ran over from the crowd and hugged Zhong Lin's leg tightly, his eyes brimming with tears.
"I knew you wouldn't die, second brother. They all said you were dead and were going to hold a funeral for you, even have a feast."
Zhong Lin lowered his head and patted the head of the boy, Zhong Shi, whose body was small like a little radish, and threw all the prey on him onto the ground, smiling as he said, "How could your second brother die? I've come back and brought lots of game. I'll roast some meat for you later."
Then he raised his head and swept his gaze across the villagers in the yard, his smile retracting, turning extremely cold.
Might as well call it eating the family into extinction.
With their parents gone long ago, it was only Zhong Shi left. As soon as something happened to me, these people came sniffing around like hyenas. Didn't they realize that if I really died, the leftover grain at home would be the only thing Zhong Shi could survive on?
With Zhong Lin's gaze sweeping over, everyone's faces showed awkwardness, averting their eyes, subconsciously hiding the bowls and chopsticks behind their backs.
"Well...Dalin, we were just being considerate. Everyone thought you were dead, so... so we came to organize a funeral for you, just to make it respectable."
The speaker was Lin San, technically the previous Zhong Lin's uncle, who had watched him grow up.
"Yes! Yes! We meant well, really!"
Once someone spoke, the other villagers began to defend themselves.
They say the law doesn't blame the masses, and besides, we didn't know you weren't dead. It was just a misunderstanding.
"A misunderstanding, a misunderstanding. It's certainly best that you came back alive, Dalin. Lin Laosan, hurry and take down the white funeral banner at the door, and everyone, if you have nothing to do, go home. Don't hamper the reunion of Dalin and his brother."
Liu Erye, the village elder, spoke up, making a final decision.
Lin Laosan quickly nodded: "Ah! I'm on it."
Zhong Lin moved his foot, directly blocking the courtyard door, halting Lin Laosan's path.
"Dalin, what are you doing?"
Zhong Lin's cold smile vanished, replaced by a warm tone: "Turns out it was a misunderstanding! But since the banners are up and the food's been eaten, shouldn't you hand over the funeral money?"
"Funeral money" refers to the monetary gift for the funeral.
Since you attended my funeral, it's only right to hand over the funeral money.
Lin Laosan's smile stiffened, and even Liu Erye, who had just spoken, was breathing rapidly, looking at Zhong Lin in complete disbelief.
The old Zhong Lin wasn't , honest and good-natured, wouldn't say a word even if he suffered a bit, unlike now, asking everyone for funeral money.
You're not dead, what funeral money do you need?
"Get out the way, why are you blocking my path?"
A drunken voice came from the main room, followed by a large, burly man shoving aside the villagers right in front of him.
Even these shameless villagers hurriedly stepped aside, showing expressions of reverence and disgust toward this man.
"Hey! Dalin is back. Truly the Mountain God's blessing, I thought you had died up in the Black Mountain. Good thing you didn't, I'd lose a playmate if you had!"
Memories from his former life sprang into Zhong Lin's mind; this man was named Zhang Kun, son of Zhang Erye from the village, and he was of a senior generation, akin to a grandfather to some kids, yet he never did what elders should do.
He relied on his size to exploit the villagers; it's an exaggeration to say he feasted on them like fish and meat, but he often got drunk, hit people, kicked wide widow's doors, and assaulted handicapped individuals.
The villagers of Lower River Village were angry with Zhang Kun but dared not speak up, as they genuinely couldn't defeat him. He was also a reckless fighter, often going for deadly blows; breaking arms and legs was ordinary. In this era of inadequate medical treatment, breaking a limb could indeed lead to a lifetime of disability.
Zhang Kun drunkenly approached Zhong Lin, towering over him to look down, yawning as the strong stench of alcohol hit Zhong Lin in the face.
"Good thing you're alive. Get out of the way like a sensible dog, I'm off home to sleep," Zhang Kun cursed as he spoke.
As he spoke, he stretched out a hand to shove Zhong Lin aside, but for a moment, he couldn't move him.
Zhong Lin looked directly at Zhang Kun: "Funeral money."
Zhang Kun showed anger, and his originally flushed face from drinking turned even redder from Zhong Lin's refusal to give in, and he swung his fist straight at Zhong Lin's face.
"Damn you for showing no respect..."
Zhong Lin grabbed the machete at his waist without hesitation and swung it at Zhang Kun's neck.
The moment the machete appeared, Zhang Kun reacted, dodging subconsciously. But because he was mid-swing and drunk, his body was too sluggish to move quickly. He barely managed to shift so that his neck wasn't severed, but the machete still cut from his left shoulder blade to his chest.
A scream rang out as bright red blood gushed, and Zhang Kun collapsed on the ground.
The villagers in the yard also shrieked in fright, some timid ones retreating and hiding, eyes filled with fear when looking at Zhong Lin.
They really hadn't expected Zhong Lin to actually take action, and that machete was aimed to kill. If Zhang Kun hadn't dodged at the last minute, his neck would have been half chopped off.
Zhong Lin took a step forward expressionlessly, squatted down, and patted Zhang Kun's face with the machete: "Funeral money."
The fearless intimidate the reckless, the reckless intimidate those who value life. Once the bully, Zhang Kun, faced with Zhong Lin's knife, was now reduced to cowering in fear.
"Da... Dalin, don't...don't be impulsive. We're from the same village, we grew up together, don't kill me, don't kill me."
Zhang Kun trembled all over, urine stench wafting from his crotch.
"I don't want to say it a third time."
Zhong Lin's voice was deep.
"Alright, alright, I'll give it."
Zhang Kun endured the pain, took out a purse from his bosom, and intended to take out some copper coins, but Zhong Lin took the whole pouch.
Zhang Kun opened his mouth but in the end didn't dare ask for it back, only covered his wound as he crawled up and quickly left.
Zhong Lin glanced at the others in the yard. Wherever his gaze fell, people showed terror, afraid to resist.
Zhong Lin repeated the two words, but this time they seemed to carry a kind of magic, making them dare not refuse. After all, the puddle of blood on the ground was still glaringly bright.
Some left two coins, some one, leaving various amounts behind. The sting may hurt, but it's better than getting slashed.
Once the last person left, there were over eighty copper coins on the table.
"Ha, a bunch of bullies who pick on the weak,"
Zhong Lin spat, full of disdain.