131 Eight-Armed Yama

"Small world, isn't it?"

Zhang Aimin chuckled, a hoe in one hand and a cigarette dangling from his lips as he flashed a grin.

"Indeed. Are you doing some odd jobs around here?"

Du Ruo wasn't as tense as Zhang. He smiled, flopped down onto the lush grass at the edge of the field, and didn't bother trying to figure out if the man before him was Zhang Aiguo or Zhang Aimin.

"Didn't get much schooling. Besides having a bit of muscle, all I know is how to till the earth. When I'm not farming, I pick up odd jobs here and there."

Seeing Du Ruo’s relaxed demeanor, Zhang Aimin eased up as well. He planted the hoe into the ground and sat on its handle opposite Du Ruo. At that moment, he looked exactly like an old farmer. If Du Ruo hadn't met him before and known a little of his background, he might have been fooled.

"I always thought you were a Northerner. I never expected to run into you down here."

Du Ruo had made an assumption; after all, the Xinyiba style was a Northern martial art, traditionally a closely guarded secret of the Shaolin Temple. This region was Southern, where Southern styles reigned supreme.

"I didn't expect to meet the famous 'Eight-Armed Yama' here either," Zhang Aimin said with a smile, stubbing out his cigarette on the ground.

"?"

Du Ruo looked puzzled. He realized that the "Eight-Armed Yama" must refer to him, though he had no idea how such a moniker had come to be.

"You don't know? You've become quite the legend among the mercenary organizations. That performance of yours last time... it was observed from afar. In an instant, it was as if you had grown eight arms, like Yama himself calling out names. The nickname just spread naturally."

Seeing Du Ruo’s expression, Zhang Aimin offered an explanation, though he remained cautious, careful not to reveal anything that should be kept secret.

"Tsk, Eight-Armed Yama. Sounds pretty imposing. But are you really just doing odd jobs, or..."

Du Ruo shook his head, not taking the unflattering title to heart, and began to probe into Zhang’s situation. He was curious about this old man. In his mind, he had pictured him living the life of a reclusive master—a mountain cabin, a few patches of land, far from the bustling world.

"I have a daughter. She has schizophrenia—the kind that can't be cured. She needs medication every day to keep it in check. I don't have any skills that pay well, and I can't leave her alone for long. Farming and odd jobs barely cover the expenses."

Zhang Aimin finished, pulled another cigarette from his pocket, and lit it. There was no shift in his tone. "I just worry about what will happen to her if I die."

"Give me one, too."

Du Ruo felt a pang of silence after hearing this. Not knowing what to say, he reached out for a cigarette, lit it, and smoked in silence beside him.

"Honestly, the mercenary work is just a side gig, and the jobs are rare. My junior brother only introduces me to something once in a blue moon. I'm getting old, and with technology getting better, I'm afraid of being blown to bits for no reason one day. I wanted to make one big score and retire, but the opportunity never came. But maybe this is for the best. Just living like this—taking care of my daughter and doing odd jobs—isn't so bad."

With that, Zhang Aimin took a deep drag, his expression disappearing behind a veil of smoke.

Last time, he had intended to launch a surprise attack to wipe out a small squad, which would have given him bargaining power against the others. He could have walked away with four or five million. The employers only cared about results, and once back in the country, the mercenary factions wouldn't have been able to touch him.

Those mercenary squads weren't a united front; none of them would have minded one less team to split the money with. He just hadn't expected Du Ruo to appear, which made everyone wary and ultimately prevented him from making his move.

Based on the contribution-based distribution, he had only ended up with a few hundred thousand.

A few hundred thousand was a lot—truly a lot—enough to cover their living expenses and his daughter's treatment for a long time. He had only wanted to gamble because he wanted to leave more for her.

"How about it? Do you still need to hoe the field?"

Du Ruo finished his cigarette, tossed the butt, and stood up, brushing off his trousers.

"No, I should head back to make dinner for my daughter. I'm off. If you're ever free, come visit. My place is at the foot of the mountain; there's always tea and a smoke waiting for you."

Zhang Aimin stood up as well, hoisted his hoe onto his shoulder, and walked off along the tricycle path.

"So this is the modern world of martial arts? Quite interesting, indeed."

Watching Zhang Aimin’s retreating figure, Du Ruo turned back toward the orchard, his mind drifting to the other martial artists he had encountered.

Wang Lang, the Praying Mantis master, was apparently a software engineer; he had only gotten into that conflict with the blonde man because he was hiking on Mount Huang with his colleagues.

The old Tibetan lama practiced in his temple; if Du Ruo hadn't seen through him, no one—save perhaps his disciples—would have guessed that the eighty-year-old man was a master of both internal and external arts.

Shi Dong, the master of the Shi family spear, was the director of a proctology department. Despite his supernatural spear skills, he treated them as nothing more than a casual hobby.

And then there was Zhang Aimin, just an old farmer. Perhaps, if not for the pressures of life, he would have spent his whole existence tilling the soil, never letting his hoe be stained with blood.

"They all have their own lives. Martial arts is just a choice for them. Will I end up the same?"

Du Ruo thought to himself, opening his system interface. He looked at the 9.99 rating for his "Essence, Qi, and Spirit" attributes and dismissed the thought.

"I am different. I can stand higher and see further. My future will never be a life wasted."

Du Ruo’s steps grew firmer. If he had a system and still couldn't set his sights on the long term, then the system had been wasted on him.

"Du Ruo! Come over here! There's a huge one up here that we can't reach!"

In the distance, Xiang Yuanyuan spotted him and waved, a large snow pear in her other hand, taking a bite as she called out.

"Coming!"

Du Ruo smiled and quickened his pace. He couldn't give up on martial arts, but life had to go on.

...

"Dongdong, are the vegetables in this garden also grown by your grandparents?"

On the way back, Xiang Yuanyuan looked at the vegetable patch and asked curiously.

Du Ruo followed with a large basket, while Xiang Yuanyuan and Li Qiyao carried smaller ones that Dongdong had fetched for them, all filled with snow pears.

It wasn't just for Xiang Yuanyuan to make fruit wine; Du Ruo also needed to bring some back for Yang Chenguang and Yang Ling to taste. If it weren't for the fact that his parents and sister were away on a trip, he would have needed even more.

"Yup! This is garlic sprout; you can stir-fry it with meat," Dongdong said, pointing at a patch of garlic.

"It looks really good," Xiang Yuanyuan crouched down to take a closer look.

"These are eggplants; you can stir-fry them with green beans." Dongdong seemed to know quite a lot, introducing the plants as they walked.

"These are cowpeas; they're good stir-fried with pork belly."

"These are okra; you can stir-fry them with eggs."

...

"That's Xiao Hei..."

Dongdong was in the middle of his introduction when he spotted a large black cat sitting under the eaves. He pointed at it happily to introduce it to the three of them.

"What can you stir-fry that with?" Xiang Yuanyuan asked instinctively.

"?"

Dongdong turned to look at Xiang Yuanyuan, his face a picture of pure childlike confusion.

"Yuanyuan, don't talk nonsense. Dongdong, pay her no mind. I haven't seen this Xiao Hei before, though."

Li Qiyao shot Xiang Yuanyuan a look, fearing she might be a bad influence on the boy, and quickly walked over to distract him.

"Hahahaha..."

Only Du Ruo laughed. Ever since he had met Xiang Yuanyuan, his life had seemed to change significantly—mostly for the better—and he was happy to enjoy the lightness of it all.

At noon, the old couple treated them to a warm, enthusiastic meal. They had slaughtered a chicken, prepared cured meat, and served fish that wasn't commonly found on the mountain. It was an exceptionally lavish feast.

The three of them ate happily. When it came time to leave, the couple refused to show a QR code for payment, and even kept telling Li Qiyao to stay happy.

"We're off, then!"

The three waved goodbye to the couple and drove down the mountain.

"Looks like I need to carry some cash next time," Du Ruo said, looking at the pears on the seat with a sigh. Fruit farming wasn't easy, and he was beginning to regret picking so many.

"It's fine. Qiqi already gave them cash. While you were chatting, I snuck in and left the money on the coffee table," Xiang Yuanyuan whispered.

"I knew they wouldn't take payment, so I prepared cash yesterday," Li Qiyao added as she drove, speaking nonchalantly.

"That's good. Oh, and Qiyao, are you coming back with us?" Du Ruo asked, finally relaxing.

"Not yet. Summer break is almost over. I need to start preparing to recruit students for the next semester. I'll come visit you guys once school starts in September." Li Qiyao shook her head.

"Huh? You're not coming? What am I supposed to do?" Xiang Yuanyuan frowned, her tone turning into a pout. She had finally found a best friend she hit it off with, and the thought of separating was hard.

"Isn't Boss Du here? You're worried about having no one to keep you company? You, listen to me—when I'm not around, remember to watch what you drink." Li Qiyao teased her, though she made sure to remind her. Even though Xiang Yuanyuan no longer had withdrawal symptoms, she couldn't let her guard down; if she drank too much, her liver could suffer serious damage.

"I might not stay long when I get back, either. I want to travel around the country," Du Ruo said, finally voicing his plan. He had been thinking about it for a while, though he hadn't settled on a date.

"Huh? How about I go with you? Think of it as a vacation." Xiang Yuanyuan frowned, thinking about how her friends wouldn't be around. Wait—no one to nag her? Suddenly, she realized that life might not be so hard after all, and maybe going along wasn't that important.

"I might be heading into deep mountains and forests, so it wouldn't be convenient for you to come. But don't worry, I'll make sure Xiaojuan keeps the wine under control."

Du Ruo seemed to see right through her, offering a calm reply.