Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Power of Laughter

The car pulled into a residential complex in the old part of the city.

There were already quite a few people gathered, some from Jinlan Furniture Company and others who were family and friends of the store manager. Numerous wreaths lined the way, indicating that the manager was well-liked.

Chen Jin followed his parents, carrying two wreaths up the stairs—no burden at all for him these days. The apartment blocks in this part of town weren’t tall, just seven or eight stories, and none had elevators. Fortunately, the manager’s home was on the third floor, so they didn’t have far to climb.

As they reached the third floor, Chen Jin could hear wailing—a hoarse woman’s voice, likely the store manager’s wife, who sounded as if she’d been crying for hours. The corridor was crowded with wreaths, yet none of the neighbors complained. Instead, they helped Chen Jin arrange the flowers and eagerly reminisced about the deceased, describing him as the model child—endlessly good, filial to his parents, respectful to elders and teachers, always greeting neighbors with a sunny smile. If anyone needed a hand, he’d gladly help, and he was a good student too, able to attend the top high school—a true paragon in every sense.

Who wouldn’t like a child like that?

The neighbors also mentioned the manager’s other son, two years younger, who seemed withdrawn and unfriendly, rarely speaking or interacting with others—a stark contrast highlighted by the loss.

After listening to their stories, Chen Jin entered the apartment.

The home was fairly spacious, about 150 square meters, with four bedrooms, a living room, and two bathrooms. Everything looked new, as though recently renovated, with fresh wallpaper.

The living room was broad; the table that once held the television now displayed the deceased’s black-and-white portrait. Many people stood around, including Chen Jin’s parents, who were conversing with the store manager.

The manager, Huang Zhongbang, was thirty-nine. Chen Jin had met him a few days before—a decent man, well-spoken and rather handsome, something of a distinguished gentleman. He was a longtime employee at Jinlan Furniture and clearly well respected.

But now, Huang Zhongbang’s face was haggard and vacant, his hair neatly combed but his features aged a decade overnight—suffering etched into every line.

Chen Jin exchanged a few words with him, offering condolences, then stepped aside with his parents.

Huang Zhongbang’s wife sat weeping on the sofa, her mournful cries so poignant that they filled Chen Jin with sorrow. Their other child was nowhere to be seen—perhaps hiding in a corner, grieving in his own way. From the neighbors’ accounts, Chen Jin assumed the boy was simply introverted.

After all, with his own brother gone, surely he would shed a few tears.

Though curious about the other child, Chen Jin had no real desire to seek him out.

The body lay in the living room as well—a handsome young man, likely popular at school. Such a pity, taken so young.

After a few more words of comfort, Chen Jin and his parents left, having stayed about half an hour.

Neither parent spoke much on the drive home—perhaps grief left them at a loss for words.

As Chen Jin lapsed into contemplation, his phone buzzed with a message from the chat group.

14:19

Heartsick Drunkard: Special notice—all group members in Xialake County should exercise caution. There have been several recent attacks. Three of our members from Xialake have been assaulted: one killed, two seriously injured and hospitalized. Details are in the file I’ve posted in the group.

Immediately following was a file.

The document described how three group members had been attacked at different times and places in Xialake County, listing their nicknames. The deceased member’s photo was attached.

It was the same young man’s image—just like the black-and-white portrait Chen Jin had seen at Huang Zhongbang’s home.

Chen Jin froze.

What a coincidence.

East Sea Dragon: Group leader, could you tell us where the deceased lived? We’d like to pay our respects.

Heartsick Drunkard: Avoid Xialake County for now. The attacker’s strength may have reached the Foundation Consolidation realm. I advise against any group members going there. Soon, I’ll organize a team of Foundation Consolidation-level members to investigate. All Xialake County members, be extra cautious.

East Sea Dragon: Alright, may the departed rest in peace.

Azure Mist: He may not find peace. Who knows if the Underworld even exists?

East Sea Dragon: ...Let’s hope it does.

…

Chen Jin was truly shocked. He hadn’t expected another cultivator to be so close by—let alone that he’d been killed, and by another cultivator at that. The attacker seemed unhinged, having ambushed two others as well.

14:23

Water Song Laments: Is the attacker a group member?

Heartsick Drunkard: My investigation suggests not, but I’ll need to visit Xialake County for further details.

Heartsick Drunkard: Also, the Xiangcheng branch of the Cultivators Association will join us in the inquiry. Xialake members, lay low and don’t give them any reason to target you.

East Sea Dragon: So the Cultivators Association is finally making a move? (emoji: scared)

Azure Mist: Looks like we’re about to be drafted...

East Sea Dragon: (emoji: scared)

Water Song Laments: We’ll have to see if they're up to the task.

East Sea Dragon: You’re amazing! Lead the way! I’ll cheer you on!

…

The rest of the chat devolved into idle banter, nothing useful, so Chen Jin put his phone away.

When they arrived at the specialty store, Chen Jin’s parents dropped him off.

As soon as he got out of the car, he spotted Zhang Hui.

Chen Jin headed straight for Zhang Hui’s snack shop.

“You saw it too?” Zhang Hui waved him over.

“Yeah,” Chen Jin nodded.

“Be careful. That guy’s reached the Foundation Consolidation realm. Only the group leader and a couple others can handle him—we don’t have anyone at that level in Xialake,” Zhang Hui said.

Chen Jin didn’t know much about the local cultivators. He’d tried to gather information, but everyone kept a low profile. No one strutted down the street shouting, “I’m an immortal—come worship me!” or, well, anything like that.

It had been three years since the world’s spiritual energy had revived, and cultivators weren’t fools—they weren’t about to expose themselves.

“No one knows about me, right?” Chen Jin asked uncertainly.

“I suspect our group member information’s been leaked,” Zhang Hui replied.

“There have only been three ‘accidents’ in Xialake recently, and all three victims were our group members. Would you believe it’s all just coincidence?” Zhang Hui continued.

“Why target cultivators?” Chen Jin asked.

“No idea. Only the attacker knows,” Zhang Hui shook his head.

…

Leaving Zhang Hui’s shop, Chen Jin returned to the specialty store.

Truthfully, he was uneasy.

According to the group’s discussions, the Foundation Consolidation stage was equivalent to the “Stabilizing Qi” to “Stabilizing Spirit” phases in ancient cultivation. The strongest in this stage matched the latter, the weakest the former. No one could say if the attacker was at the higher or lower end—that was still up for debate.

But one thing was certain: he was powerful.

So caution was necessary.

For instance, now there was a child in his office—the very boy from the black-and-white photograph.

He grinned at Chen Jin, showing his teeth.

…