The Beggar’s Staff of Lao Ba Chapter 22.2

Chapter 22.2:

While Gouzi set up the frame, Wen Heng had already ventured into the woods searching for edible forage. Though he’d found some taro yesterday, the journey ahead was long, and extra provisions were always wise. Luck smiled upon him—this season, he stumbled upon a vast cluster of mushrooms.

It was already autumn, yet here was this enormous cluster—each cap as wide as a bowl, thick and sturdy. The silvery-gray caps crowded together, looking utterly delicious. Wen Heng crouched down and carefully gathered half a basketful. He’d seen hunters in Xiaoyan Town selling these mushrooms before; they should be safe to eat, roasted over a fire.

“When exactly do you plan to let me go?” Leopard growled darkly, pacing restlessly nearby.

Busy gathering mushrooms, Wen Heng didn’t even look up. “We share a master-disciple bond that hasn’t run its course yet. Besides, I never kept you here by force.”

Leopard roared in fury: “Wen Heng! Don’t push your luck! What demonic arts did you use? Why have my limbs lost all vitality?”

It wasn’t just his limbs that were ruined—now even his once-proud, gleaming teeth were broken. Leopard flicked his tail in agitation, convinced he was now a useless cripple.

“You keep harping on this master-disciple bond,” he spat, “but what could you possibly teach me now?” The leopard raged like a woman in the throes of menstrual cramps—one moment resigned to his fate, the next refusing to accept it. Like a bitter wife, he droned on with complaints, daring to vent only to Wen Heng. Doggie treated him like a cat, and Lian Wushang was untouchable.

Leopard had considered using Doggie to pressure Wen Heng, but it remained just a thought. Doggie treated him well. Debts must be repaid to their rightful owners—it was Wen Heng who shattered his limbs. He would fight Wen Heng to the bitter end!

Wen Heng turned his head absently toward Leopard, his brow furrowing. “I just have this feeling…”

Leopard snapped irritably, “Your feelings are worthless!”

Wen Heng turned back to mushroom-picking. “I’m not sure. But my instincts are usually spot-on. Like how you’re about to get hit by a falling branch.”

Leopard scanned his surroundings—nothing but weeds. Where was a branch? He sprinted back hundreds of meters to an open clearing. Now he could see where any branch might hit him.

‘Crack!’ A dead branch snapped off in the wind, falling from the sky and landing squarely on Leopard. He jumped three feet in the air. “Damn it! It actually hit me!”

And damn it was. From Leopard’s observation, Wen Heng hadn’t even mastered the basics of spiritual perception—his divine sense hadn’t been cultivated at all.

The leopard stared at the branch for a moment, still baffled by how it had struck him. Wen Heng emerged carrying a tattered basket brimming with mushrooms.

Still shaken, the leopard watched as Wen Heng scooped him up. “Let’s go. We can make some mushroom soup tonight.”

“Hmph.” Leopard ignored him, lost in thought. Could Wen Heng truly be guided by the Dao?

Throughout history, the cultivation world had seen several great beings who could commune with the Dao. All of them ultimately ascended to immortality. When these great beings emerged, they understood the workings of heaven and earth. Even today, countless cultivators dedicated themselves to communicating with the Dao, seeking its guidance. The path of cultivation was fraught with hardship and peril. Those who received guidance from the Dao were invariably individuals blessed with immense fortune.

These favored children of the Dao had enjoyed a life of luxury and ease since childhood, their cultivation journey smooth and unimpeded—something others could only envy but never attain.

But… never had anyone heard of a favored child of the Dao starting out as a beggar! And not just any beggar, but one who could only muster sheer brute strength!

Take Wen Heng, for instance. He gathered a basketful of mushrooms, and Doggie happily took them to be processed. Wen Heng himself went off to find wood again—he didn’t even know how to make soup.

Leopard’s eyes were filled with doubt. If this guy was truly a Heavenly Dao’s favorite, it must be some kind of dark magic.

Gouzi’s shed had a wooden frame with straw mats covering three sides, leaving the front open. This was partly because they’d run out of mats, and partly because they needed an entrance. They couldn’t find suitable material for the roof, so Gouzi hastily piled on some thatch. He planned to weave thicker, rainproof mats on the cart tomorrow.

After all the fuss, the cart now had a makeshift shelter. Wen Heng praised, “Doggie, did you build this all by yourself? It’s really well done.”

Doggie strung the mushrooms together and placed them beside the rising campfire to roast. He chuckled, “Once I make a better roof tomorrow, we won’t have to fear sleeping out in the wilderness anymore.”

Truthfully, such a thatched shelter couldn’t withstand a single blow from a wild beast. Still, having a place to shelter was better than facing the elements head-on. Many people’s homes were barely able to withstand the battering of wind and rain, yet having a home gave them the confidence to face anything fearlessly.

Wen Heng poked his head forward to look at the thatched shelter. Once erected, it stood over a meter tall. One could sit or lie down inside, and with a slight bend of the waist, one could easily enter. The straw mats that had once lined the cart were now hung on the outside, leaving only a messy pile of weeds inside.

“Cough… cough… ugh…” Lian Wushang started vomiting again. Wen Heng noticed this—Wushang always felt unwell around mealtimes.

Wen Heng hurried outside to pat Wushang’s back, his concern evident. ” Wushang, would you mind if I took your pulse?”

Lian Wushang leaned weakly against the cart, gasping for breath. “It’s an old ailment. You know how to take pulses?”

Wen Heng’s expression turned serious. “I don’t…”

If you don’t know, why are you pretending to know? Wen Heng paused, then added, “I’m not sure if I can do it, but let me try.”

Lian Wushang said nothing. He pressed his lips together and extended his left hand. Wen Heng placed his right index and middle fingers on Lian Wushang’s left wrist.

He remained silent for a long time. Lian Wushang smiled faintly: “I know my own body… Hey, what’s wrong with you?”

Blood dripped steadily from Wen Heng’s nostrils.

Author’s Note:

Wen Heng, utterly smitten by Lian Wushang, finally got to touch his body today!

Lian Wushang: That’s called a pulse.

Wen Heng: Doesn’t matter—it’s still his body.

Silly Author: Seeing you act like such a pervert, I really want to tear you two apart.