Volume One: The Lonely Closed Beta Chapter Fourteen: The Target Seems to Have Grown Larger

Lin Feng reluctantly left Teng Yan’s embrace, rising to his feet with a lingering look of attachment on his face. Turning, he helped Teng Yan up, holding her delicate hands in his own. “Thank you, Yan’er,” he said softly.

“Brother, as long as you are well, I can be at ease,” Teng Yan replied shyly, her head bowed. She intended to withdraw her hands, but Lin Feng’s strong hands held hers a little too tightly, and the warmth he imparted made her reluctant to let go. It seemed neither of them wished to release the other, and so they stood there, caught in tacit understanding.

Teng Yan was unwilling to part because, ever since Lin Feng had awoken, she’d barely had a chance to be alone with him. Lin Feng, meanwhile, was perplexed: Teng Yan didn’t know that he was no longer the Lin Feng of the past. She assumed he had simply matured, so her deepening feelings were understandable. But he’d only been in this world for two days—how could he have developed such genuine affection for her so quickly?

Was he really someone who tired easily of the old and sought out the new?

No, that was impossible. If that were the case, back in his previous, much more permissive world, he wouldn’t have remained faithful to his girlfriend’s request for chastity, despite all the temptations. Of course, fantasies in one’s mind are only natural, but Lin Feng had always been clear and strict about his own principles. So the idea that he was fickle simply didn’t hold.

Could it be that remnants of the original Lin Feng’s subconscious were influencing him? But he had not the slightest memory of that other Lin Feng—what, then, could explain this?

Feelings could not arise out of thin air. Love at first sight was more a matter of perception than of true emotion. Earlier, his reluctance to leave Teng Yan’s embrace was not just the trace of a scoundrel’s sentiment, but more a sense of familiarity—she felt like someone pivotal in his life.

Then he recalled yesterday’s dream. Of the names he had cried out, he was certain one was his girlfriend, Siwei, but the “Yan’er” he called—could that be Teng Yan before him now?

Lin Zhen believed his sharp gaze had seen through the young pair’s little secret, and thought to himself: Looks like when eldest brother returns, we should arrange their marriage. But isn’t this boy Feng’er a bit too eager? Doesn’t he know what kind of occasion this is?

“Haha, Feng’er, Miss Teng is truly an exceptional young lady! Old Zhang here can’t wait to drink at your wedding feast!” Zhang Meng said with a hearty laugh.

He was a straightforward man, quick to speak his mind; if he were as reserved as Lin Zhen, he wouldn’t be worthy of his nickname “Zhang the Candid.”

As soon as Zhang spoke, Teng Yan freed her hand from Lin Feng’s, picked up a candle from the table, and said, “Uncles, you still have important matters to discuss. It’s windy outside, so I’ll take this candle into the house.” Without waiting for a reply, she walked away carefully, carrying the candle.

“Ah... looks like my future daughter-in-law is shy. Haha...” Zhang Meng said, feigning a serious look. Seeing Lin Feng standing there in a daze, his face alternating between red and white, the three men couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

With that laughter, the heavy mood brought on by the earlier kidnapping was dispelled considerably.

“Uncles, please don’t tease your nephew any further. With my parents in peril, how could I think of anything else? Besides, there are still many people here, and it will be inconvenient to question the man in black. I suggest we let everyone return for now.”

Lin Feng then approached the assembled townsfolk and bowed deeply. “Good people, please rise. I apologize for disturbing your rest tonight, and ask your forgiveness.”

“Young Master Lin—or rather, Immortal Lin—we are already thrice blessed to witness your divine powers tonight. It is we who have troubled you and your honored teacher, and beg your pardon,” replied an elder, sincerely addressing him as “Immortal” again and again.

Hearing these repeated titles, Lin Feng knew there was no shaking off the mantle of “miracle-worker” now. “It was I who disturbed you first. Your presence here only shows your care for the Lin family; there’s nothing to forgive. Please, all of you, rise!”

“Though the departing immortal has already forgiven us, we have yet to receive your pardon, Immortal Lin, and dare not get up,” they protested.

If this went on any longer, they’d be arguing about guilt until dawn. Lin Feng decided to cut it short: “Very well, I forgive you. Now please stand up, or I’ll have to get angry.”

At that, everyone rose, looking at Lin Feng with the utmost respect. He felt uncomfortable under their gaze. He’d always disliked charlatans and tricksters, yet now he had become one himself. Life, it seemed, had its ironies. But to survive in the troubled times ahead, this was undoubtedly a shortcut to power.

After all, Zhang Jiao, who led the Yellow Turban Rebellion, and Zhang Lu, who rose to rule Hanzhong through the Five Pecks of Rice Sect, had started in the same way. Though both ultimately failed, their stories proved just how potent the combination of religion and superstition could be in an era of simple beliefs.

A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, and this was the perfect opportunity to take that first step. Lin Feng abandoned the idea of simply sending the townsfolk home. Once he’d made up his mind, he always acted.

“Good people, you all already know of my parents’ plight. The messenger from those bandits is there, and I shall question him shortly. I ask for your help in listening. If what he says differs from what you know, please tell me. If you think of any questions, feel free to ask him yourselves. And if you have any advice, I would be grateful. My thanks to you all in advance.”

At these words, the crowd was overjoyed. How many mortals ever had the opportunity to assist an immortal? By clinging to Immortal Lin’s coattails, perhaps they too might one day find their destiny and ascend to immortality.

Under everyone’s watchful eyes, the questioning of the man in black continued late into the night.

Everyone, it seemed, was eager to participate, vying to ask questions—one finished, another stepped up. The queries ranged from the practical to the absurd; they even unearthed the fact that, as a boy, the man in black had once spied on the neighboring Widow Wang as she bathed—testament to the collective power of the people.

Through this novel interrogation, Lin Feng and his companions found themselves relegated to the sidelines. Halfway through, they called for chairs and sat, becoming spectators, amused by the unfolding drama.

The man in black, now utterly exposed, would remember this as the darkest night of his life—one that would haunt him, perhaps even move him to tears in the future. Yet it was also the turning point of his life; from then on, he would strive to reform.

Seeing that the questioning had reached its natural end—there was little more useful information to extract—it was clear Lin Feng’s purpose was fulfilled: to involve the townsfolk, to make each person feel valued by Immortal Lin, and to foster a bond between himself and them through this shared experience.

Lin Feng rose and addressed them. “You have all worked so hard to help rescue my parents. I am deeply grateful. I have already asked the kitchen to prepare a late-night meal, but with so many of you and limited supplies and hands, there is only plain porridge and broth. I hope you will forgive me.”

“No need for such trouble, Immortal,” the elder replied sincerely. “To help you is already a great honor. Besides, we are but poor folk; we do not eat such fare every day. What little we have done does not merit such generosity.”

“Immortal Lin’s kindness is more than enough to move us!”

“Indeed, what we have done is insignificant. We could not allow you to go to such expense,” others echoed, their words sincere.

Yet, Lin Feng could see from their throats, which bobbed up and down with hunger, that they truly were famished.

Looking at these simple, honest people, Lin Feng was filled with emotion. In his previous world, not to mention plain porridge and broth, even if one offered bird’s nest soup to beggars, they might scorn it—or even curse you. He was struck both by the purity of their hearts and by the poverty of their lives. It strengthened his resolve to lead them to better days.

His mind leapt ahead to a century later, to the era known as the “Five Barbarians’ Invasion of China,” when the people of the Central Plains were slaughtered in droves by foreign tribes. The land fell under their barbaric rule, ravaged by endless war, and the Han people, driven from their homeland, barely clung to survival in the south.

The invaders treated Han men worse than livestock, used Han women as food for the army, calling them “two-legged sheep,” and even, for their amusement, set aside hunting grounds where Han people were released as prey. This was the first time foreign tribes had successfully invaded the heartland, wreaking havoc on Chinese civilization. In that dark page of history, the population plummeted from fifty million to less than eight million—all because of the chaos at the end of the Han, when warlords fought endlessly, weakening the nation and leaving it open to invasion.

Now that fate had placed him in this era, Lin Feng swore he would never let such a tragedy repeat itself. With his understanding of history and two thousand years’ worth of accumulated knowledge and technology, he was determined to avert disaster.

What he did not yet realize was that his goals had fundamentally changed. Where before he had only sought to survive, he now felt a mission: to save the millions of the Chinese people from the calamities of war, to preserve the glory of a strong Han dynasty.

With this thought, Lin Feng’s fists clenched and trembled with emotion.

He had just learned from the man in black that the bandit leaders were from Goguryeo, sent by certain forces from there. This was the perfect opportunity to rouse the townsfolk.

“Everyone, the food is ready. If you don’t eat, it will go to waste. As the saying goes, every grain is hard-earned. Would you have me bear the guilt of wasting food? No matter what, you must eat.”

“Immortal is right. We shall eat, then,” the elder finally replied.