Chapter Nineteen: The Power of the Divine Weapon

Sun Guiying spoke as she set down the wooden tray of pancakes, gesturing for Yana Li to sit by the table and get ready to eat.

Just as she was about to sit next to Yana Li herself, she suddenly exclaimed in surprise, “Hey? Where’s Little Leopard? Where did that troublemaker run off to this time? Why isn’t he home for dinner yet?”

Lu Song had been watching her face carefully, reading her mood, and now he replied meekly, “Let’s wait a little longer. We’ll eat once Little Leopard gets to the table.”

Dad had become Mom’s loyal hound—whenever she so much as twitched, he knew exactly what she was about to do.

Lu Hu grumbled inwardly, thinking that his younger brother, having just pocketed the money Mother gave him, was surely out carousing. If they waited for him, who knew how long it would take…

Should I tell the family what my brother’s been up to, or should I keep my mouth shut?

Lu Li pointed at the big white fish in the center of the table, practically drooling, “Is this the big white fish Uncle Cui sent from Downriver Shell? It smells amazing, it’s so tempting.” Her words were a bit garbled due to her lisp.

Sun Guiying smirked, “What’s wrong with your ears, child? Your Uncle Cui lives in Xiajihezi, not Downriver Shell.”

“Oh, not Downriver Shell, Xiajihezi then.” Lu Li’s attention was entirely consumed by the food on the table; she couldn’t be bothered to figure out the difference between the two place names.

Right now, the most important thing was to fill her stomach with these delicacies.

Yana Li couldn’t understand what they were saying, nor did she care to. She picked up a spoon, ladled a bowl of fish soup for Lu Song, and tried to feed it to him.

Lu Song hid his right arm in his sleeve and waved his left hand to refuse, but his eyes were on Sun Guiying, his posture saying, “If you don’t give permission, I wouldn’t dare move a muscle, even if I starved.”

Sun Guiying forced a smile, “If she wants to feed you, just eat. She’s made you the top dog now—shouldn’t she wait on you hand and foot?”

She was taking advantage of Yana Li’s inability to understand their language, smiling on the surface but lacing her words with barbs.

With that, she went to the door and glanced outside. The biting wind swept the empty yard; not a soul was in sight.

She muttered something under her breath and returned to the table. “That good-for-nothing—doesn’t even come home for dinner. Let’s not wait for him anymore; if we delay, the food will get cold.”

Even before the words had left her mouth, she turned and went to the kitchen, soon returning with a large pottery bowl. She scooped a portion of each good dish from the table into it, then took it back to the kitchen to keep warm in the pot.

As he ate, Lu Hu debated whether or not to tell his parents about his brother’s behavior.

He was still hesitating when a commotion erupted at the gate.

Lu Hu, worried about the precious item hidden on the roof, had been listening closely for any sounds outside and now dashed out as fast as he could.

To his surprise, the person coming in through the gate was the same courier from Tiger Mouth Fort who’d accompanied him to the county seat.

The big drinker had someone slung over his back.

He staggered under the weight, gasping like a worn-out ox, about to collapse at any moment.

Seeing Lu Hu, he cried out as if seeing his own parents, “General Lu! Quick, help me—Young Master Leopard got drunk and I barely managed to bring him home. Give me a hand, for heaven’s sake—my back’s killing me, I’m exhausted!”

Before he could finish, his legs buckled and he collapsed to the ground.

Lu Hu strode over, lifting Lu Bao with his left hand and cradling the courier with his right, carrying them both inside with ease—the younger like a dead dog, the courier like a log.

This commotion brought Lu Bao back to his senses for a moment. He slurred, putting on airs, “Who… who dares mess with me? I’ll… I’ll finish you off! Who dares bully… your big brother here…”

Sun Guiying, exasperated, scolded, “Look at you! Just look at you—where did you go to make such a fool of yourself?”

Lu Bao retorted boorishly, “Stop yelling, stop yelling—keep it down, will you? Annoying… I just had a drink at the Puke Tavern…”

His voice faded as he drifted back into a drunken sleep, snoring thunderously.

The courier, upon seeing the dishes on the table, immediately perked up—his back no longer ached, his legs no longer wobbled.

He slipped free of Lu Hu’s grasp, stood up, and sat himself at the table as if he belonged there.

“Brother, you must be hungry—have something to eat,” Lu Hu began politely.

“Carrying your brother wore me out. I’ll just have a bite to tide me over, if you don’t mind,” the courier replied, not standing on ceremony in the slightest as he grabbed his chopsticks and dug in.

There was no wine on the table, so he unclipped the gourd from his belt, opened it, and gulped down several mouthfuls.

Mother had gone to the inner room to tend to her drunken son. With her gone, Lu Hu felt at ease. “Father, where’s the good wine? Bring it out and fill our friend’s gourd.”

Lu Song had been thinking the same thing. He fetched a clay jar from the kitchen—an aged brew kept for years.

Lu Hu broke the seal, releasing a fragrant aroma, and poured a large bowl for the courier, then carefully refilled the gourd.

“General, you’re a true friend! Come, have a drink with me. Don’t just watch—pour yourselves a cup and join in!” The courier was getting a bit too comfortable.

“Brother, how did my brother end up in such a state?” Lu Hu, not much of a drinker, chatted with him over the wine.

The courier rambled on for half an hour, his story meandering and full of repetition, but eventually it came out:

After receiving Lu Hu’s reward at the post station, he’d gone straight to the Drunken Immortal Pavilion, found a quiet corner, ordered a jar of wine and a couple of simple dishes, and drank by himself in contentment…

Lu Bao and three other young lads had burst into the tavern, making a scene—he’d seen it all, and from the way the other boys flattered Lu Bao, he realized this was Lu Hu’s brother.

General Lu was upright and bold, never bullying the weak. Why was his brother so brash? They hardly seemed like real siblings.

He watched as Lu Bao drank himself sick, prompting others to follow suit and vomit all over the place.

But the courier held it in—he was a veteran drinker, able to down shots by the fingerful, his tolerance impressive.

Holding his breath, he’d hauled Lu Bao onto his back and, after asking directions, brought him home…

“What happened to the mountain of meat?” The courier had dubbed An Shizhu “the mountain of meat.” Lu Hu was curious how the fat pig had fared.

“When your brother started puking, he left. I didn’t see where he went. General, I’ve eaten and drunk my fill—time to take my leave!” The courier, noticing Sun Guiying’s repeated comings and goings and her increasingly sour expression, picked up his wine gourd and departed.

Lu Hu walked him out to the gate, then glanced up at the roof. The battery still lay quietly in the snow; if you didn’t know it was there, you’d never spot it.

He wasn’t sure about its quality, or whether the stun baton could still be charged. Judging by its workmanship, it should be fine.

In this era of cold steel, having such a weapon was enough to dominate anyone.

Of course, that was assuming you could use it before your opponent’s blade reached you.

After helping Yana Li clean up the table, he half-heartedly chatted with his parents until sunset. Then, using the excuse of needing to relieve himself, he sprang onto the roof, retrieved the battery, and slipped into the stable with the stun baton.

His father’s mottled steed munched contentedly on its feed.

This animal seemed to do nothing but eat when idle—no wonder it was so robust. That old nag was a first-rate glutton.

He decided to test the stun baton on it.

The switch had three settings; Lu Hu had already figured it out when the battery wasn’t charged:

Pushing it upward, each setting was stronger than the last—no doubt about it.

He pressed the tip of the baton to the horse’s rump. The horse, thinking he was about to scratch its back, turned its head and gave him a grateful look.

Its mane shook as it posed, trying to look dashing.

Lu Hu moved his thumb slightly and pushed the switch to the first setting.

The baton crackled, white arcs of electricity flickering like tangled threads.

The horse suddenly shuddered, its nostrils flaring, trying to neigh but unable to make a sound. Its whole body convulsed, legs buckling until it collapsed, twitching on the ground.

A stream of hot yellow liquid gushed from its belly, steaming as it pooled.

A foul, musty stench rose from under its tail, and a few fist-sized droppings fell, still warm, vapor curling from them.

Good lord, this thing packed a punch—it made even a warhorse lose all control.

If this was what it did to a horse, what would it do to a person? They’d be begging for mercy!