chsdbacks Chapter 20 The Zhang Family
Chapter 20 The Zhang Family
The roar of the plane's engines was gradually absorbed by the clouds. Nie Lingfeng leaned against the porthole, staring blankly at the gradually shrinking, dimly lit cityscape below, a sense of disorientation welling up inside him.
It's been ten years.
Or to be more precise, it was ten years ago in another world—his last flight was to Guangzhou for a tedious industry conference. Back then, the dozen or so hours of flight felt incredibly long and unbearable; the cramped economy class seats made his back ache, and even the airplane food tasted bland. But now, even the smell in the cabin—a mixture of recirculated air, disinfectant, and the cheap fast food opened by his neighbor—felt…familiar. It was a noisy yet real atmosphere belonging to the civilized world.
"First time on a plane?" came Xu San's calm voice from beside him. The deputy head of the North China branch keenly noticed Nie Lingfeng's prolonged reverie.
"Hmm." Nie Lingfeng withdrew his gaze, looked at Xu San, and frankly admitted, "There aren't the conditions in the mountains." This was indeed the truth. Deep within Lingyun Cave, it was difficult to find even a single bird, let alone such a giant steel bird.
Xu San adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his gaze lingering on the man's face for a moment before he didn't delve deeper. Instead, he took a folder from his briefcase and handed it to him: "This is a preliminary briefing on the Zhangzhuang incident. You can take a look on the way to get a basic understanding."
Nie Lingfeng took the folder; it felt like cardboard. Opening it, he found a neatly printed report with several color photos. The photos were low-resolution, clearly taken hastily by on-site personnel with their phones: a roughly dug grave, fresh soil scattered around, revealing a corner of a decaying coffin; several close-ups of the ground showing oddly shaped footprints of varying depths; and a few distant views of the wasteland surrounding the village, conveying an indescribable desolation and eeriness.
His gaze fell on the name highlighted in the report—"Zhang Xilin".
"Zhang Xilin..." Nie Lingfeng murmured the name, his brows furrowing slightly as he tried to portray a sense of déjà vu yet an inability to quite place it. "This name... seems familiar?"
"Perhaps your master mentioned it occasionally before he passed away." Xu San's gaze, through his glasses, calmly fell on Nie Lingfeng's face, as if observing every subtle change in his expression. "According to our intelligence, he may have been one of the participants in the 'Jiashen Rebellion' back then, living in seclusion in Zhangzhuang under the alias Zhang Xilin. We highly suspect that his true identity is one of the Thirty-Six Thieves—Zhang Huaiyi."
Nie Lingfeng's heart skipped a beat, but his face revealed a deeper confusion: "Zhang Huaiyi? The Jia Shen Rebellion? What is that? Master seems... never mentioned these things to me." He made his eyes appear clean and confused, like a mountain boy who was truly isolated from the world and only knew how to practice martial arts.
Xu San looked at him quietly, remaining silent for about three or four seconds, seemingly assessing the veracity of his words. Finally, he withdrew his scrutinizing gaze, his tone returning to its usual calm: "It's an old story from many years ago, involving some secrets and traditions of the supernatural world. After this mission is over and we return to headquarters, we'll arrange relevant background training for you."
"Oh, okay." Nie Lingfeng obediently replied, lowered his head, and pretended to read the briefing seriously, but his heart was in turmoil.
The briefing was carefully worded, only stating that "Zhang Xilin may have mastered some lost special Qi cultivation method or lineage," without mentioning "Qi Body Source Flow" or "Eight Extraordinary Techniques." But Nie Lingfeng knew—Zhang Huaiyi, the comprehender of the Qi Body Source Flow, a mysterious figure among the Thirty-Six Thieves of the Jia Shen Year, and Zhang Chulan's grandfather.
The plot truly unfolded before him in this way.
About two hours later, the plane landed at Jinan Yaoqiang International Airport.
As the cabin door opened, a wave of scorching, dry air rushed in, carrying the distinctive scent of a northern summer—a mixture of dust, asphalt, and the smells of distant farmland.
Nie Lingfeng followed the flow of people down the gangway and onto the solid concrete ground. He took a deep breath—
Then, he froze on the spot.
This taste...it's so familiar.
In his past life, his hometown was on the Jiaodong Peninsula in Shandong. Every winter and summer vacation, he would take an overnight train home from the city where his university was located. Stepping out of the train station in the early morning, he would be greeted by this smell—the dry, dusty air, faintly carrying the lingering fragrance of locust blossoms, the smoky aroma of fried dough sticks from nearby breakfast stalls, the earthy smell rising from the water sprayed by street sweepers, and the unique, crisp, and mixed scent of a northern city's mornings. In a daze, he seemed to see his parents' aging but smiling faces peering through the crowd at the station exit, and his brother driving that secondhand Santana, impatiently honking the horn to urge him to hurry…
"What's wrong?" Xu San's voice pulled him back from his brief daze.
"...It's nothing." Nie Lingfeng shook his head, quickly suppressing the complex emotions that flashed across his eyes. His voice was somewhat low. "It's just...the first time I've set foot on Shandong soil. I heard it's my ancestral home. I have...some indescribable feelings."
He silently added in his heart: I hope my parents in that world can slowly get over their grief. I hope my older brother can support that family and take good care of them.
Taking a deep breath, he followed Xu San's steps and headed towards the airport arrival hall.
They were picked up in a black Buick GL8. The driver was a middle-aged man in his forties with a simple face and a quiet demeanor. He was wearing an ordinary polo shirt. When he saw Xu San, he simply nodded, said "President Xu", and then took the simple luggage and put it in the trunk. He didn't say anything extra. After getting in the car, he focused on starting the vehicle and merging into the traffic on the airport expressway.
The car traveled smoothly along the highway leading to Zibo. Outside the window was a typical summer scene on the North China Plain: endless fields divided into neat squares by ridges, corn, soybeans, and other crops gleaming a dark green under the blazing sun; scattered villages dotted the distance, their red-tiled, white-walled bungalows distorting slightly in the heat; on the horizon, the bluish-gray outline of the Taishan Mountains was faintly visible. Everything overlapped with the scenes in Nie Lingfeng's memory, yet due to the temporal and spatial dislocation, it felt both familiar and strange. Leaning against the car window, watching the scenery rush past, a complex mix of emotions welled up inside him.
About three hours later, the GL8 turned off the highway and onto a two-lane county road.
The buildings along the road gradually changed from neat multi-story buildings to low-rise shops, and then to rural bungalows covered with white tiles or plastered with mortar. The road became narrower and the road conditions worsened, with occasional potholes causing the car to bump slightly. The air began to fill with the faint smell of burning straw and the aroma of farmyard manure.
"Zhangzhuang is just ahead." Xu San, who had been resting with his eyes closed, opened them and looked at the navigation on his phone.
The car didn't go directly into the village, but stopped at a relatively secluded open space at the village entrance and turned off the engine.
"Walk in, keep a low profile," Xu San said, getting out of the car first. He took two high-powered flashlights from the trunk, handed one to Nie Lingfeng, and then checked a small black bag he was carrying.
Nie Lingfeng took the flashlight; it was icy cold to the touch. He gripped the Qiankun bag hidden in his sleeve, feeling the extremely faint icy sensation emanating from the Snow Drinking Blade inside, which had become extremely weak due to the spatial barrier, and felt somewhat reassured.
The two walked silently along a dirt road deeper into the village. It was completely dark, and only a few dim lights shone from the windows; most people seemed to have gone to bed. In the distance came sporadic barking of dogs, sometimes near, sometimes far, mixed with the faint sounds of a television and children crying, creating a typical scene of a summer night in a northern rural village.
Xu San walked very slowly, his steps extremely light, almost making no sound when he landed. The powerful flashlight in his hand only illuminated a small area beneath his feet, the beam kept low to avoid alerting any potential sentries. His movements were professional and cautious. Nie Lingfeng imitated him, concealing his aura and applying the light footwork he had gained from the Wind God Leg technique to stealth, and he was just as good as Xu San.
After walking for about seven or eight minutes, Xu San stopped at a three-way intersection. He took out his phone, the faint light from the screen illuminating his calm face. He glanced at the flashing dot on a location tracking app, then looked up to check his bearings, pointing to the narrower path on the left, almost completely overgrown with weeds: "This way."