"Brother Rongzhou is truly reliable."
"Fortunately, we discovered it early. Otherwise, not only would our ancestors suffer, but we might not have escaped unscathed either."
The thieves claimed they only wanted money, but how did that family in Peach Leaf Village get completely wiped out? A single wicked thought from these ruthless people could destroy families and claim lives.
Who would willingly place their hopes for survival on the "mercy" of such vicious criminals? Do they even possess such a thing?
The more they reflected on their close call, the more the villagers admired and trusted Li Rongzhou, while their hatred for the thieves grew stronger.
Under the blazing torchlight, the thieves were bound with tortoise-shell restraints, completely immobilized. The old chief led the young men in conducting an overnight interrogation, beating the thieves until they cried for their parents and wept bitterly, filled with regret.
Of course, their regret wasn't for committing evil deeds, but for believing Zhao Suan's words about Peach Blossom Village being easy prey, never expecting to capsize in what they thought was a tiny ditch.
Now, desperate for a way out, they eagerly betrayed their so-called "brothers" and "friends," hoping for leniency.
"Ding San is skilled at picking locks—just a wire can open your courtyard gates!"
"You bastard selling me out! Let me tell you, this pervert has twisted desires—while others just want money, he specifically enjoys defiling wives and daughters!"
"Zhao Suan was the mastermind behind this plan! He's the ringleader—he's also responsible for the Peach Leaf Village massacre!"
Hearing this, Zhao Suan quickly protested, "Peach Leaf Village has nothing to do with me! I'm not the mastermind either—Wang Li is! He insisted on digging up ancestral graves!"
The group kept shifting blame, each one a real "talent" deserving lifelong imprisonment.
Li Pingcan finally understood why refugees were unwelcome. It wasn't that refugees turned bad, but that bad people always survived extreme conditions more easily than good ones, leaving only these detestable "villains" remaining.
He also noted the "Wang Li" mentioned by Zhao Suan—likely the first grave robber who had fled.
Through his mushroom's perspective, he saw his father and eldest brother interrogate the thieves before digging pits to bury the bodies.
"Wang Li must have revealed something extraordinary for Father to execute and bury them so decisively."
Li Pingcan quietly retrieved his treasure seeds, waiting for Li Rongzhou and Li Pingfu to return.
The Li household's lights were still on.
Lady Qin, relieved to see her husband and sons return safely, placed freshly made hot egg pancakes on the table, saying gently, "Eat."
Men always got hungry after physical labor, so she had prepared the dough and pancakes early.
She hadn't expected to wait until late at night. After hours of worry, seeing her men devouring the pancakes made ripples of joy dance in her beautiful eyes, her heart finally at ease.
"Wife, your pancakes are delicious," Li Rongzhou praised between bites, having already eaten three.
"Mother's cooking keeps improving, and she grows more beautiful too."
Li Pingcan's sweet words made Lady Qin smile warmly, which in turn pleased him. He might not cook, but he could certainly provide emotional comfort.
And the pancakes truly were delicious—crispy at the edges, melting sweetly in the mouth, with the local eggs lending an irresistible aroma that made one crave more.
After the meal, Lady Qin cleaned up and took the sleepy Xie Yuan to bed, while the Li men discussed matters.
Li Rongzhou produced two hundred-tael silver notes and a thin yellowish booklet, saying, "I told the chief we didn't catch Wang Li, hiding that we intercepted the stolen goods."
Being a thief apparently paid well—their family had never owned silver notes before. Li Pingcan examined them curiously; though just paper like his second brother's books, they somehow seemed to glitter appealingly.
Redeeming the notes might require passwords or codes, but his father was thorough—Li Pingcan trusted him completely, his gaze instead fixed on the "Mystical Records of Blessed Lands."
This was likely the real reason his father had killed to keep the spoils.
"The universe shares one breath, all things possess spirit; observe the energy, see the divine, reach the underworld. Energy is the root of life, the pivot of the Dao, the origin where all methods converge."
This was the art of energy observation.
Li Pingcan's heart raced—this sounded like immortal magic. He looked to his father.
Li Rongzhou nodded. "Wang Li heard about your second brother being the reincarnation of the Literary Star. He wanted to use this energy observation to intercept our family's 'auspicious aura.' This manual was something he obtained after falling off a cliff while fleeing enemies."
He dared target Second Brother!
Hearing this, Li Pingcan felt Wang Li's death had been too merciful. Such evil arts, whether real or not, were utterly malicious.
Well, no use dwelling on the dead. Tomorrow, he'd have Little Black defecate on Wang Li's grave.
Studying the manual closely, Li Pingcan noticed something—strictly speaking, this wasn't the "evil art" he'd imagined, but rather a method for concealing energy.
This energy included spiritual energy, human vitality, talent, and the energy of heaven and earth—a secret technique for hiding from immortal detection.
But Wang Li wasn't a cultivator. Unable to see energy directly, he could only intercept "auspicious destiny energy" at specific locations through underground energy channels, hence his midnight grave digging.
In wicked hands, even the noblest art becomes a curse.
'Wang Li couldn't see spiritual energy, but I can. Though my leaky body can't retain it, with these techniques from the Mystical Records of Blessed Lands, could I precisely intercept spiritual energy?'
The uses for spiritual energy were endless—if nothing else, as a "mana potion" for skill cooldowns, an infinite "blue bar," leveling skills would be effortless.
Moreover, when he eventually began cultivation, such concealment methods would prevent immortals from recognizing him as a cultivation-world fugitive from the Great Yu Dynasty.
"Father, let me keep this Mystical Records of Blessed Lands to study," Li Pingcan said, clinging to the manual.
"It's yours," Li Rongzhou smiled.
This manual clearly contained immortal secrets. With his youngest son's clever mind and mysterious abilities, he might actually achieve something with it.
By noon, all thieves had been apprehended. The most vicious home-invading murderers were beheaded at noon, while lesser accomplices were sentenced to hard labor in the mines, facing endless toil.
The Li men specifically attended the executions. Xie Yuan insisted on coming too, but shut one eye at the falling blades and avoided red candied hawthorns for days afterward.
The next day, tax collectors arrived. Peach Blossom Village families mobilized en masse to deliver rice, fearing delays would invite harassment and extra levies.
Li Pingfu helped Uncle Li Fang load rice, while Li Pingcan held Xie Yuan and Li Qian's hands tightly, protecting them from the jostling crowd.
The entire village buzzed with activity. The normally spacious drying ground overflowed with people as the chief checked household registers, while officials stood by the official measuring vessel. One kicked it sharply, sending golden rice cascading like rain into the dirt.
"Such good rice—why kick it into the mud?"
Li Fang's face twisted in pain. What farmer could bear seeing grain wasted? He knelt in the mud, arms outstretched to gather the scattered rice.
"Who said you could pick that up? You! I'm talking to you!"
The official cursed, rushing over to deliver a sharp kick toward Li Fang's waist.