Chapter 141: Uncle Fu

In truth, Zhang Pu could see that even though he wanted to head down the mountain, Uncle Fu seemed unexpectedly reluctant to let him go.

Uncle Fu had said, "A-Pu, it's getting late. Don't go down the mountain today; stay here for the night. There are beds ready."

Actually, even if he hadn't asked, Zhang Pu had already decided to stay. When Zhang Pu agreed, he caught a flash of subtle, heartfelt joy on Uncle Fu's face.

Zhang Pu didn't overthink it at the time, merely assuming that Uncle Fu had been lonely in the mountains for the past few days and was in desperate need of company. Ever since his parents went missing, the workers had scattered, leaving Uncle Fu alone on the mountain for several days.

Having long made the mountain his home, Uncle Fu had never married in his youth for reasons unknown, and consequently had no children or close kin; his distant relatives were effectively strangers. Honestly, Zhang Pu felt deep sympathy for Uncle Fu’s plight.

Uncle Fu’s only friends in the forest had been Zhang Pu’s parents and the workers, but now that everyone had dispersed, he was truly alone. He was currently acting as the caretaker for his parents' leased land. Once the lease expired, he had no means to pay off their debts. If Zhang Pu couldn't handle it either, the land would either fall into the hands of others or be reclaimed by the township. If the township took it back, they might allow Uncle Fu to continue living there, but if a private party took over, whether or not they would keep him on was another matter entirely.

In truth, Uncle Fu’s prospects were bleak. Had Zhang Pu remained the mediocre person he was in his previous life, there would have been nothing he could do to help. Yet, Uncle Fu could not have imagined that the current Zhang Pu was more capable of saving him than a Bodhisattva.

For now, however, just as he had initially planned to keep his true abilities hidden from his parents, Zhang Pu would not reveal to Uncle Fu the extent of his power. Although Uncle Fu was slightly surprised that Zhang Pu seemed far more mature than his peers, in his eyes, the boy was still just a high school student.

Nightfall was approaching quickly. Uncle Fu prepared dinner for Zhang Pu, remarking that the mountain was abundant in resources and that one could live quite well if they were diligent.

Even without the wages from Zhang Pu’s parents, Uncle Fu could forage for food. He was skilled at hunting, at least enough to catch pheasants and hares; in fact, he had bagged a wild boar just a few days ago. Because everyone else had left—some missing, others returning home—he hadn't been able to finish it all. He had traded a large portion of the boar with villagers for rice, salt, and daily necessities, and the rest he had cured and smoked, hanging it in the smokehouse to be sliced whenever needed. In some places, this was called bacon.

Zhang Pu had actually eaten this smoked meat of Uncle Fu’s when he was younger. Uncle Fu was truly a master at curing meat, and Zhang Pu found it far more delicious than the braised delicacies he bought in Qingwu City.

The main dish for dinner was the smoked wild boar. Once served, the rich, savory aroma was truly mouth-watering. Zhang Pu couldn't help but ask how it was made.

Uncle Fu explained that the wild boar meat was salted and then hung whole or in large slabs within a dedicated smokehouse. Beneath the meat, he would light branches from spice-bearing trees—like pepper trees or fragrant citrus—and then extinguish the flames, letting the remaining branches smolder into smoke. This smoked, cured meat, occasionally sun-dried and kept in a ventilated place, could last for three years without spoiling.

Aside from the meat, there were plenty of vegetable dishes: bamboo shoots, mushrooms, and various wild greens—all top-tier mountain delicacies, some of which couldn't even be bought in Qingwu City.

Zhang Pu ate with a hearty appetite, partly because this land had been his parents' domain. He could see that Uncle Fu intended to spend the rest of his life guarding these mountains. If someone were to force him out in the future, he might even resist with his life. Zhang Pu secretly resolved to help Uncle Fu fulfill that wish. However, as the years passed, if Uncle Fu truly became too old to move, leaving him alone in the mountains would be improper; it would essentially be waiting for death.

Zhang Pu did not want that to be Uncle Fu’s final fate. He pondered that even if the medicinal herb headquarters of the Sea Flower Inn didn't relocate here, he could establish a branch for herb cultivation right on this mountain. It would be simple enough to assign or hire people to manage it, and they could look after Uncle Fu in the process. For now, however, he kept these thoughts to himself.

After dinner, Zhang Pu asked if his parents had shown any abnormal behavior or anything out of the ordinary in the days leading up to their disappearance.

Uncle Fu thought for a long while before speaking hesitantly. He mentioned that he had, perhaps intentionally or perhaps not, noticed that for a period before they went missing, Zhang Pu’s parents often went to a bamboo grove behind the mountain at night. Uncle Fu said he hadn't dared to follow them, but after they disappeared, he had gone to that grove to dig for shoots during the day and had examined it thoroughly, finding nothing unusual. It was just an ordinary bamboo grove.

Although Uncle Fu’s words seemed casual, Zhang Pu listened intently. He realized that since Uncle Fu was their employee, he wouldn't have dared to follow them without permission, which explained why he didn't know what they were doing there at night. Yet, the fact that Uncle Fu found nothing amiss during the day was significant.

Zhang Pu’s mind immediately seized upon the contrast between "day" and "night." In terms of timing, these were two entirely different states. Could the answer lie in this temporal difference? He thought to himself. If Uncle Fu was telling the truth...

If Zhang Pu were still a normal child, he would have assumed his parents' affairs had nothing to do with the bamboo grove, especially since a teenager would usually be afraid to go there at night. But Zhang Pu was no longer the student from his previous life; he was a cultivator who had wandered through the immortal realms. How could he fear a bamboo grove at night?

While others might find Uncle Fu’s description of the grove mundane, Zhang Pu felt he had caught a glimpse of a deeper mystery.