Chapter Five: The Middle-Aged Man

Born in a small mountain village, Jiang Chen was all too familiar with these old men who had spent most of their lives leeching off the village. With a few flattering words and an astonishing capacity for drink, he soon had Butcher Wu and the other slick old-timers who usually opposed him dead drunk, sprawled in a drunken stupor.

Of course, thanks to Jiang Chen’s orchestration, Butcher Wu became the most dazzling figure of the day. Though the villagers present all offered their congratulations on the surface, in their hearts, every one of them was seething with jealousy and resentment at having missed out on such a golden son-in-law as Jiang Chen.

Off to the side, Wu Yue watched her man deftly moving among the banquet tables, a gentle smile curling at her lips. Jiang Chen, seeing Wu Yue’s quiet, attentive gaze, felt a warmth stir in his heart.

Suddenly, a crisp shatter of crockery broke the relaxed atmosphere, jolting Jiang Chen’s nerves taut. The sensation was akin to being caught in a searchlight during a midnight covert operation in his past life—a feeling of utter exposure, the primal terror of prey before the hunter.

Cold sweat soaked Jiang Chen’s back as he instinctively darted aside, startled like a frightened rabbit. But coming to his senses, he realized the cause was only a ragged middle-aged man.

The man’s hair was streaked with black and white, and his rugged face, shadowed by stubbly gray whiskers, was etched with weariness. A scar ran from the corner of his eye to his mouth, lending his visage a steely resolve. Yet, in stark contrast, his bloodshot eyes brimmed with grievance and humiliation, creating an absurd and almost comical disconnect that instantly dissolved Jiang Chen’s bodyguard’s vigilance.

On the other hand, the villagers reacted quite differently. Upon seeing the middle-aged man, their faces twisted with derision, and laughter rang out unrestrained.

“Well, here you are again, mooching for food and drink! Look how you scared our young master Jiang!” someone jeered, not even treating the man as a person, punctuating his words with a kick at the man’s empty sleeve.

“Damn soldier! Young Master Jiang is busy here—what the hell are you doing?”

“What bad luck!”

The middle-aged man staggered from the blow, but his large eyes didn’t so much as blink, nor did he utter a word of complaint. Only at the words “damn soldier” did the red in his eyes deepen.

“I... I just wanted to help out, Young Master Jiang... I’m sorry...” he said, looking at Jiang Chen with the plaintiveness of a child caught in wrongdoing.

Yet, seeing his pitiful demeanor, the villagers only grew more overbearing.

“Damn it! Worthless soldier! If you bastards hadn’t lost the war in the north, we wouldn’t be suffering like this!”

“You deserve to beg! You should have died long ago!”

The man’s lips trembled violently, but he uttered not a sound. It was Jiang Chen who felt the flames of anger kindle within him. He was a soldier himself—how could he tolerate such insults to a comrade?

“That’s enough!” Jiang Chen’s voice was cold. “Soldiers risk their lives for your safety, shedding blood and sweat—your words are far too harsh!”

He shot a chilly glance at the offending villager, who was instantly cowed by his fearsome presence. Yet, still somewhat defiant, the man forced a grin and sniped sarcastically, “Young Master Jiang, wasn’t I just helping you teach this scum a lesson? Besides, they fight for the emperor, not for us…”

“When you were down and out, you lived off the charity of every household. Now you’ve got a bit of money, you shouldn’t be shouting at us like this!”

“Exactly…”

The idle villagers, bellies full and nothing better to do, began murmuring among themselves. Jiang Chen had no desire to argue with fools; he was more concerned with who this middle-aged man truly was.

At that moment, Wu Qingshan, having just finished his hosting duties and now drunk as a lord, sensed the atmosphere had soured and hurried to smooth things over.

“Everyone, my brother-in-law and my father have had a bit too much to drink. Let’s call it a day! When my sister’s wedding comes, you’ll all be invited to celebrate.”

With the host’s words and having had their fill of food and drink, the villagers could hardly complain further and left, grumbling.

Watching the dispersing crowd, Jiang Chen narrowed his eyes, a decision forming in his mind. Wu Qingshan, seeing the look, thought his new brother-in-law was upset and moved to comfort him, but Jiang Chen shook his head.

“I’m fine, Qingshan, just a bit drunk…” he replied, staggering toward the middle-aged man’s retreating figure.

When only a few steps remained between them, Jiang Chen suddenly stumbled, falling forward uncontrollably, his hand reaching toward the man’s waist.

In a flash, a glint of sharpness flickered in the man’s previously clouded eyes. He spun around and instinctively raised his maimed arm to strike—but seeing it was Jiang Chen, he instantly softened his movement, turning the blow into support and helping Jiang Chen to his feet.

“Young Master Jiang, are you alright?”

The man quickly resumed his anxious demeanor, though a trace of wariness lingered in his eyes.

“I’m… I’m fine…” Jiang Chen steadied himself, inwardly astonished. That transformation from strike to aid had been instantaneous; the man’s control was exquisite, easily rivaling his own skills from his previous life.

A true master! This man’s abilities were extraordinary—his background could not be simple.

“This wine… it really hits hard. Took this long for it to go to my head…”

The man seemed puzzled at first, then relaxed fully, a faint smile on his lips.

“Who’d have thought our young prodigy Jiang Chen would be felled by drink?”

“Haha! But no wine is as heady as these troubled times. In this world, even gold dulls under a grimy rag—sometimes, it’s better to stay muddled…”

Hearing this, and recalling how Jiang Chen had defended him before the crowd, the man’s eyes lowered, his expression unreadable. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but hesitated.

Jiang Chen’s eyes narrowed, as if he discerned the man’s inner turmoil.

“What is it? Do you have something to say?”

The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he stepped closer, then dropped to one knee before Jiang Chen.

“Young Master Jiang, I’d like to work for you—if you’ll have me…”

“Of course!” Jiang Chen was overjoyed. He had just been pondering how to recruit this man, and here he was, offering himself.

“As long as you earn your keep standing tall, you’re one of my brothers. Meet me at the market tomorrow. By the way, what’s your name?”

Jiang Chen, feigning grogginess, looked at him. The man was silent for a long moment before replying, furtive as a thief.

“Gu Jun.”