Village Tyrant

“Get lost! If you weren’t a protected animal, I swear I’d kill you!” Chen Anquan shouted at the wild boar.

The boar seemed to realize it was no match for Chen Anquan. It glanced reluctantly at the rehmannia root in his hand, then turned and disappeared into the forest.

“What would a wild boar want with rehmannia root?” Chen Anquan couldn’t fathom why the animal would eat it—did it know it was good for its health, or did it simply like the taste?

Fresh rehmannia root did have a faint sweetness, but it was far from delicious; in fact, it was rather unpalatable.

From this brief encounter, Chen Anquan also recognized his own shortcomings. The boar had crept up on him without his notice. If it had been a tiger or a leopard instead, his fate would likely have been grim.

He didn’t think his 2.0 attributes would stand a chance against a tiger. A wild Amur tiger could bite down with a force of over 400 kilograms, easily crushing a human skull. Even a casual swipe from its paw would shatter a human arm in an instant.

He wasn’t sure if he could outrun a tiger as he was now, either.

Fortunately, this was the south, where South China tigers had long since vanished—there was no chance of encountering one in the wild.

“Back to digging for herbs, then!” Chen Anquan climbed along the ridge of Aobei Mountain and soon reached the summit.

At the top was a clearing, not thickly wooded but rather like a small basketball court.

“This would be the perfect spot for a temple!” Chen Anquan thought it a shame that there wasn’t one here already. Aobei Mountain had experienced a meteor shower at the same time as thirty-one other famous sites around the world; surely this was a place of rare spiritual energy. To leave it without a temple seemed a waste.

Just as he was about to leave, he stopped in his tracks.

The summit was thickly carpeted with rehmannia!

“So many!” he exclaimed.

In this basketball court–sized area, there were at least a hundred plants, their thick, ginger-like roots as wide as two thumbs.

“These are the finest mature rehmannia roots!” Chen Anquan could tell at a glance that these were old, potent roots, the kind highly prized and often reserved for export.

“I’ve struck gold!” he whispered in delight.

Everyone knew that the very best medicinal herbs were exported to Japan and Korea. This batch could fetch over a hundred yuan per kilo on the market.

“But I’ll keep these for myself—I can’t bear to sell them!” He glanced at the rest in his basket. “The inferior ones can go to market.”

It was the plump rootstock that held the medicinal value; once dug, the plant would die. So Chen Anquan carefully left ten plants to keep propagating.

As a professional herbalist, he knew his duty—never strip an area bare, or there’d be nothing left for the future.

With a full basket of fresh rehmannia, he made his way home.

On his way down, he gathered a variety of other medicinal herbs as well.

By the time he returned, night had fallen.

This trip, he hadn’t only visited Aobei Mountain but had also combed the neighboring two peaks.

He set the three large bamboo baskets at his door and went inside for a drink of water.

“Hey, kid, so you know how to gather herbs!” came a middle-aged man’s voice.

Chen Anquan came out with a cup in hand.

He knew the man—it was Chen Long, the self-styled village chief.

“Is there something you need, Chief?”

“I went to look at the basketball court. Your repair work is awful! Anyone can see there was a missing patch there before. I think we need to get someone to redo it,” Chen Long said.

“What?” Chen Anquan was incredulous.

This annoying Chen Long had come up with the most absurd excuse.

“Come and see for yourself!” Chen Long, wearing a stern expression, marched to the basketball court and jabbed a finger at the ground. “The patch job is obvious—it ruins the whole look of the place!”

Chen Anquan could only think Chen Long was stirring up trouble for its own sake.

He smiled at Chen Long. “Sorry, Chief, but I’ve made the surface perfectly even. As for the color, it’s impossible to get it exactly the same.”

“Hmph! That’s because your skills are lacking—you can’t do a proper job!”

“Give me five hundred yuan and I’ll get someone else to fix it.”

“Five hundred? Why not just rob me!” Chen Anquan knew Chen Long didn’t get along with his second uncle’s family, and was clearly targeting him on purpose.

“These days, a cement worker gets at least three hundred a day, a bag of cement is two hundred, and that’s not counting sand and tools!”

“But we’ve already fixed it. Don’t try to stir up trouble!”

“Just look at your useless uncle’s work—such a glaring patch ruins the village’s image! And he claims to be a builder. Can’t even handle something this small!”

“Chen Long, you’re acting like a village bully. You know the government’s cracking down hard on people like you!” Chen Anquan invoked the law and state policy.

“Haha… a bully, am I?” Chen Long chuckled as if he’d heard a joke. “I’m the village chief. Without me, there’d be no ancestral hall, no basketball court, and the ponds would still be stinking pits. Everything here is my doing, and you call me a bully? That’s hilarious!”

“You used my yard for the basketball court without my permission. I haven’t even asked you for compensation, and now you’re picking on me?”

“Your yard?” Chen Long sneered. “The land deeds are clear—the basketball court is public land, not yours.”

“You—”

Chen Anquan had never seen his own land deed or property certificate; supposedly, they were kept at his second uncle’s house.

“If you don’t believe me, I’ll take you home to see them,” Chen Long offered.

“No need.” Chen Anquan couldn’t be bothered to argue. If Chen Long dared act this way, he must have prepared his excuses.

“Fine, then. Just give me the five hundred yuan. I need to get home for dinner.”

“I won’t pay. You can leave now.” Chen Anquan had no intention of handing over any money—otherwise he’d be branded a pushover.

“Not paying? In a few days, you’ll be begging me on your knees!” With that threat, Chen Long turned and left.

Watching him go, Chen Anquan didn’t know what Chen Long had planned, but he wasn’t worried.

These were peaceful times—what could a petty village tyrant really do to him? The idea was laughable.